Hermione stared at Draco. How could he possibly think this way about himself? Didn’t he know that he was, well, Draco Malfoy? He was the man who pushed all of her buttons and challenged her. He spent countless hours in the library just tables away studying so that he could try to outrank her in eighth year, a feat she reminded him repeatedly he would never accomplish. He was so incredibly articulate at times, she could do nothing but be in awe of him. Not to mention, he was fit as fuck and had only grown more into his features the more time that passed away from Hogwarts. He was absolutely everything that Hermione wanted in her life.