Fire and Ice

Chapter One

A/n: Hello, everyone. I'm back with an all new Dramione. I was going to keep it a secret until it was 100 percent finished but I love the first chapter and the plotline too much to keep it all to myself and a few people for very long. So without further ado, I give you the first chapter of my new story, Comfort With the Enemy.

                                                ~ ~ ~
In the back of Flourish and Blotts, a young witch with chocolate brown hair sat fighting off tears, hoping that one of her friends would not come in to buy their school books and see her in her broken state. The young witch pulled her knees to her chest, trying to concentrate on the book she had in her lap, but it was a fruitless effort. She continued to think about losing her parents, about coming home to find the Dark Mark hovering over her house like a ghost. She closed her book and took a deep breath, still fighting the tears off. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping that the tears would wait to fall until she was no longer in public. After a few moments she opened her eyes once more and saw the one person she wanted to see the least: Draco Malfoy. And he was walking right toward her, a smug look on his face. Standing before her, he opened his mouth to say something that was most likely an insult but he stopped.

“What's wrong, Granger? The Weasel break up with you?” Draco asked, being his usual self. Hermione could tell something was missing from his voice, but couldn't pinpoint what it as. She glared up at him from beneath her eyelashes, eyes blurred.

“It's none of your damn business, ferret. Go away.” Hermione retorted, not having the energy to come up with something witty. Draco looked Hermione over. She was still the same, save her hair. It was now thinned out, in layers, and straight. He smirked, knowing she'd always been a bit sensitive about her hair. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to her and said,

“Oh, I get it. You're upset because someone wizened up and cut that mop on top of your head.”

At the comment about her hair, Hermione closed her eyes and remembered why it had been cut in the first place.

Hermione leaned against her dresser, staring at herself in the mirror. Her brown eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying and her hair was a tangled mess.

My entire life is falling apart, she thought to herself. What am I going to do? She rubbed her face and took a deep breath, turning around to look at her room. She had always known she was different but from the moment she found she was a witch she had felt less of a connection with her parents. Their world had suddenly become far too simple. She would miss her parents, of course, and their death would put an empty hole in her heart, of that she was sure. But where could she go from here? She looked once more at her reflection. Things would be hard but all she could do was return to those who still cared for her and supported her. She would need shoulders to lean on and she knew her friends would be there but for now, all she could do was put everything behind her. She ran her fingers through her hair and laughed insanely to herself.

Suddenly, everything that had happened to her seemed funny. Why, she didn't know, but it was funny. She continued laughing insanely. Had someone known what had happened and had seen her they would have admitted her to an asylum. She grabbed a pair of scissor and began cutting at random intervals, destroying her thick brown curls, continuing to laugh. She cut several lengths on top off, letting the hair fall to the ground. Pausing for a moment to look in the mirror, Hermione stared at herself in horror.

Merlin, what have I done? She thought to herself, sinking to the ground in front of her dresser, sobbing.

Tears began to trickle down Hermione's cheek as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“Woah, Granger. I'm pretty sure this isn't about your hair. What's wrong?” Draco asked, his tone changing to what one would consider a tender voice.

“What's wrong with me isn't really the business of Death Eater.” Hermione snapped.

“A Death Eater? Let me tell you something, Granger. I am not and never will be a Death Eater. Get your facts straight next time you want to insult someone, mudblood!”

Furious, Hermione stood from her chair, grabbed her things, and stormed to the front of the store, ready to leave to buy the rest of her supplies for her sixth year at school. Before she was out of earshot she swore she heard Malfoy mutter a faint, 'sorry'.

~ ~ ~