This is my first published fanfic, hope you enjoy! I really love the idea of Draco having unrequited love for Hermione (or Harry). I dunno, I just like being mean to him I guess. I'm still trying to figure out , so bear with me please! Characters belong to J.K. Rowling and what not, hope it's okay! There may be more chapters if I can figure out how to add them!
Sometimes, you see two people, and you think: They belong together. But nothing happens. It's odd, but the spark doesn't ignite right away. It flickers, and occasionally it sputters out, but it's always there, unyielding. It won't grow, but it won't quite die either. Perhaps something is preventing the spark from catching flame. Whatever the case is, that spark is obvious to those on the outside, but invisible to the lighters.
But then, maybe it's supposed to be that way. Maybe, they don't imagine the two together. It's all in their head, and their second half really belongs with someone else. One is just a wet match by the pile of tinder, and the fire's starting.
It's never meant to be, he realizes, watching two familiar heads slowly lean towards each other. Loving touches, shy glances, the little upturned smiles that decorate their faces. It's clear they're soul mates. Just look at them. There's a nervous laugh, and his hand covers hers. It's simple and chaste, but at the same time, the feeling of intimacy is almost too intense to bear. He says something, and she laughs, her beautiful smile could light up the room...
For a second, he thought her eyes flickered towards his, but with a sinking feeling, he realizes she is looking for her friends. Friends, he almost scoffs. He's never had any, not real friends. She's too radiant, too good to be his friend. Besides, she's in love with him.
A soft, comforting hand reaches his shoulder as the two leave the room to join the third. He looks up, his gray eyes dull and lifeless. It's his mother. He almost hates the sight. "Please leave," he whispers, the pain in his eyes unmistakable. She is the reason why he is not free to love. His mother and his father, both the dictators of his life. They would never accept her as his wife. It's almost painful to realize that if he ever had a chance, it's gone. But then again, he thinks, standing from the table, what sort of chance did he ever have? He insulted her, called her names, cursed her, threatened her, and planned to harm her. There's a lump in his throat that he must swallow down as he sweeps out of the room. Be alone, he thinks. Just be alone.
There's a little terrace outdoors, and that is where he can find solace, he thinks. He must stop thinking about that bushy brown hair, those large front teeth, the clever comments, and those hurtful, hurtful words. He remembers the time she struck him. He'd never seen such hate behind those gorgeous brown eyes. She really is, very pretty. It's a shame, he thinks, bending down to sit on a low stone wall, smashed apart by some unknown cause. He could offer her anything: money, power, his love...
Love she found elsewhere. His love for her was truly amazing. Everyone knew it would happen eventually, and it did. He didn't stand a chance against those big blue eyes and flaming red hair. The bravery her lover had shown was truly incredible. He didn't have that kind of bravery. He was a coward, a snake, a...damn it.
He has to move on. He knows he will, eventually, but she's...exquisite. If only...her blood was different. If only she was in his house. He would have given her the world, anything. And of course, he would have taken back everything. She deserves that. He'll make peace with her, one day. For now however...
He casts his eyes skyward. He should leave now; rebuild a life outside of prejudice and hate. He turns on the spot, gone with the wind, still thinking wistfully of the brightest witch of her age.