It's those lips, I decide. The rest of him is intriguing as well: his platinum blonde hair, those searing blue-grey eyes, his incredible quidditch-toned muscles, but really, it's those lips that I'm most drawn to. I flush brightest crimson at the thought of those lips upon my skin, gently caressing my curves.
I have spent every mealtime memorizing his features, until they became as familiar to me as my own. Each day, I hope against hope that he will feel the heat of my gaze and be pulled to me the way I am constantly drawn to him.
I mentally shake myself. My dreaming is pointless, for he doesn't even know I exist. In all the time I have sat here, watching him adoringly from across the table, he has never once so much as glanced in my direction. I sit here, day after day, watching him with his friends, getting to know him in the only way available to me, but never once have I caught his attention, not even for an instant.
Yet, I can't give up. I can't get him out of my mind. My every waking thought is tuned to him, and even in my dreams, I see nothing but his face.
Draco…just thinking the name gives me endless delight. I know I should give up, set my sights on someone else, but all others pale in comparison with him. My Draco. For him, I will gladly wait forever. I will deny all others for the possibility that one day, I might finally get to feel those lips upon my skin, to hear my name uttered in his magnificent, sultry voice.
I continue gazing at him in adoration, willing him to look my way, to notice me. Then, to my eternal surprise, he does.
He reaches out and his fingers gently brush my skin. He hesitates only a moment before pulling me toward himself. I go willingly, hardly believing my good fortune, but as he spends a moment examining me, my heart sinks. I feel certain that he's noticing all of my flaws, my imperfections. I know I'm not the type he usually chooses; surely he will discard me as quickly as I was chosen, leaving me to rot or be scooped up by some other, less deserving boy.
He doesn't. Instead, he pulls me closer still, until I can feel the warmth of his breath, the press of his lips. A shudder runs through me as I feel his teeth break my skin. He doesn't seem to notice as he continues on.
He devours me and I am lost to the ecstasy of pain and pleasure. It's all that I could have hoped for. He finally chose me.
He lays me down gently and I feel myself begin to fade. He can't mean to just leave me here, used and discarded. I meant something to him, I know I did. I struggle to catch one more glimpse of him. One more glimpse of those lips that inspired such intense love, and brought about such anguish.
As he turns to leave, I see those lips moving and barely catch his murmur.
"I love apples."
Something swells within me as the world fades to black.
He loves me.
A/N: Ever since I first heard about the good ship Drapple, I really wanted to write one. I just find the premise to be amazingly hilarious. Granted, this takes a few liberties (it's a red apple rather than a green one for starters) and I tried to throw in a few bonus clichés just for the fun of it. Please let me know what you think. I'd love to hear from you!