Author's Note: This one-shot dates from April 2011, but the idea behind it is much, much older. I have this notebook that I use to scribble down all of my random ideas. There are fragments of poetry in there, ideas for one-shots, lines from books or song lyrics that have caught my eye, all sorts of things. One day, I was thumbing through this book of inspiration, and a phrase I'd written down I don't even know how long ago caught my attention: He was everything that was wrong for her. He was everything she wanted. My brain took that prompt and ran with it.
I'm not sure how this turned into a Harry Potter thing. Originally, this was supposed to be incredibly vague; I was never going to name the narrator or the guy she was talking about, so these characters could have been anybody. But whenever I tried to redirect this one-shot, I kept coming back to Hogwarts, so finally I gave in. I realize that the direction this one-shot goes is something of a cliché in the Potterverse, and I'm sorry about that. I left it purposely open-ended, though, so you can imagine whether the situation turns into a fairy tale or not, at your discretion. Originally, the narrator was supposed to be one of those shy, bookworm creatures who blends into the shadows, but by the end of the story she'd kind of morphed into this badass Spanish chick. I'm really not sure how that happened, but I think I like this girl.
OC Play-By: Adriana is portrayed by Naya Rivera [better known as Santana Lopez of Glee].
Disclaimer: Do I really need to say this? I thought not.
He was everything that was wrong for her.
Merlin's beard, she knew that. She liked to think that she had been blessed with a greater-than-average amount of intelligence and common sense. And anyways, it was as clear as day that they suited each other about as well as oil and water. She had sensed this from the night they met, as first years in the vestibule of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had been tormenting some poor boy about losing his toad; she had jumped to the boy's defense when it was clear no one else would. Just like that, the lines had been drawn. And while Hogwarts had spent the next seven years avidly following every single incident involving the arch rivalry between Draco Lucius Malfoy and Harry James Potter, the ever-escalating antagonism between Draco and Adriana Beatriz Magdalena Calderón de la Paz was no less entertaining to keep track of.
He was everything that she loathed.
He was popular- sangre azul and old money would do that for you, however much of an elitist, bullying inbred bastard you might be in actuality. People flocked around Draco— guys who thought that associating with him would mean his charisma and condescending charm would rub off on them and make them more desirable; girls who hoped he'd rub off on them in another way entirely. And he always did; being a manwhore was apparently another perk of being damn near Pureblood royalty.
It wasn't that she wasn't popular, because she was. She might have been a Ravenclaw, but the stereotype of snobby and aloof didn't apply to her. She was damn near Gryffindor-ish about standing up for the underdogs, and she was always available for those who needed academic help or other forms of peer guidance. It won her many admirers and hangers-on, and sometimes it even won her friends. However, she wasn't used for her social status, the way Draco was, and she was good with that. Honestly, if someone had tried to use her in that way, she would have given them a piece of her mind. But yeah, her honorary title of Ravenclaw Queen didn't give her the same kind of renown or perks as the Slytherin Prince.
As previously mentioned, Draco was elitist. A perfect Pureblood prince; if you couldn't trace your blue blood back at least ten generations, don't even bother speaking to him. He held all the tenants of the Pureblood credo— keep the blood pure and the magic unadulterated, the wizarding world belonged to the strong [i.e., the wealthy], Muggles were cockroaches, Muggle-borns were abominations, Halfbloods were embarrassments, Purebloods who married anyone besides another Pureblood were traitors. How he managed to retain his popularity while maintaining his snobbery was unfathomable.
Granted, Adriana could be a snob, too. But her snobbery wasn't based on blood purity so much as character. If you were cruel, crude, or a moron, she considered you just as much beneath her as Draco considered Muggle-borns. Adriana was just as quick to cut people from her social circle as he was, but money and surname had nothing to do with it. Her best friend, Darcy Williams, was a Half-blood; a fact which in Draco's eyes made Adriana a traitor. When he made this sentiment known to her, she had made a point of flaunting the friendship in his face, laughing as she did so.
He was callous, often to the point of cruelty. In that, he was the consummate Slytherin; a slave to his own ambition. Everyone, even those he deemed friends, were ultimately expendable when it came down to it. If there was a choice between advancing his own interests and defending a friend, there was no question what he'd do.
It was a behavior that Adriana found deplorable. She was desperately, passionately loyal to her bevy of friends, a trait they joked came with the Spanish blood. She couldn't imagine living as he did, willing to sacrifice anything for advancement, willing to sell his soul to the devil incarnate [otherwise known to Adriana as He Who Has No Nose— never, of course, when any of her family could hear her]. And while Adriana could be a class A bitch when she thought people deserved it, she was never deliberately cruel simply for the sake of being malicious. She could love or hate more passionately than anyone [again, her friends claimed that was the Spaniard in her], but she could never view people as meaningless or expendable, as pawns on a chessboard. More ways that she was very akin to a Gryffindor.
She hated him. She hated how rude he was, hated how he manipulated and took advantage of everyone around him, treating them as though they were less than the dust beneath his feet. She hated him for his condescension and his arrogance, for his pigheadedness and his utter disregard for anyone else's opinions. She really hated that smirk of his, the sardonic lift of an eyebrow he'd elevated into an art form.
He was everything that was wrong for her.
He was everything she wanted.
She refused to use the word love. Love implied emotion, and emotions were simply not something she was willing to associate with him. Emotions were hazardous; they meant giving up your control, and if there was one thing Adriana Calderón de la Paz was not willing to do, it was to give up control to Draco Malfoy. But want him? Yeah, that she could do; it was nothing more than most of the female population of Hogwarts did, whether or not they admitted to it.
She wanted him for his stubbornness, his single-minded determination. He was one of those rare people who, upon conceiving an idea, had the drive and focus to see it through to completion. Granted, he usually used that skill for the forces of evil [and sometimes just mischief], but still, it was something she grudgingly admired in him.
She herself was remarkably stubborn; it was either her greatest fault, or her greatest strength, depending upon who you asked. It was a rare person who could even argue her when she'd made up her mind, let alone get her to change her position. She had the uncomfortable feeling that Malfoy might be one of those people, were she ever to let him try.
She wanted him for his intelligence. Many people forgot it in light of that whole infuriating bastard thing, but he did have brains; quite a lot of them, actually. Lazy and unmotivated he might be when it came to schoolwork, but he never had any problems grasping or retaining information.
They had been paired together exactly once for a school assignment during their seven years at Hogwarts, for a Potions assignment [apparently, Snape's chemical experiments weren't just cauldron-based]. While Adriana had a good head for numbers and potion-making, this particular concoction had included several rare and unusual ingredients, and she couldn't wrap her head around the science involved. He'd been a snarky, condescending bastard about it, but Draco had given her an informal tutoring session while they prepared and mixed ingredients. By the end of two class periods, theirs was the only potion brewed correctly. And while there had been points where it looked like they were going to destroy each other, they had walked out of that experience with a new sort of truce established. They still bitched at each other constantly, still antagonized each other, but some of the hateful heat had gone out of it. They almost— dare she say it?— enjoyed their sparring.
She wanted his sense of humor. Yes, he was sarcastic to the point of cruel, but he never said anything that wasn't the truth, and he made it wickedly funny while he did so. Even if the two of them were the only ones intelligent enough to understand what he was saying…
Not that they ever laughed together, of course. It wasn't like they ever hung out. Accidental similarities aside, he was still the Slytherin Prince, and she was still the Ravenclaw Queen. Appearances must be upheld, after all. No, she would hear his insults and repartee in passing, usually while she was on her way to one of her advanced classes or tutoring sessions. She would sweep past him, quietly laughing to herself as his smooth voice echoed through the hall behind her. Really, had they not hated each other, they might have joined forces and raised hell in a truly epic fashion.
She wanted him for his confidence. Oh, he was a bastard, alright; he was as conceited and arrogant as an aristocrat could possibly be, and it drove her insane how he considered himself the gods' gift to the world. But when he wasn't pushing it— i.e., whenever Golden Boy Potter wasn't around— Draco was simply self-assured, filled to the brim with an addicting charisma. He carried himself exactly like the prince he'd spent his entire life being told he was, and it was quite honestly irresistible. There was a beauty to that careless poise of his, something to admire in his self-possession. Adriana's blood was plenty pure; blue enough to satisfy even a Black. But she didn't have that arrogant dignity that so defined Draco. They called her the Ravenclaw Queen, but she'd never been very regal. Were she interested in living up to her surname and her family's allegiance, there would have been much to be learned from Draco in this instance.
But, even if he was everything she wanted, he was still everything that was wrong for her.
And now, he was everything she was going to get.
The gods were cruel in that way.
She should have guessed that this was coming. She was seventeen, after all, and it was tradition within the Pureblood community to marry as soon as one had left school. And she'd known she wouldn't be marrying a Spaniard; she was too closely related to all the other Pureblood families that were even acceptable to be considered for an alliance of this type.
Besides, Felipe Calderón y de Navarro had a vision for his family. They were descended from the royal family of Spain; Adriana could count the famous Queen Isabella as an ancestress. The Spanish royals had once wedded their children all over Europe to gain dynastic power and wealth, and Felipe had continued on in the family tradition. Both of Adriana's brothers had been married off to girls from wealthy families- Agustín to an Austrian countess named Analise [whom Adriana absolutely adored], Mateo to an Italian girl named Rosaria [whom Adriana utterly detested]. Felipe was already looking for suitable candidates for his three young daughters Lupe, Nohemi, and Paloma. But for his eldest daughter, only one person could be suitable- the crème de la crème of the English Purebloods. What Felipe wanted, Felipe got. It helped that Felipe and Lucius Malfoy had bonded over the years; they shared a passionate interest in rare and unusual— i.e., illegal in England— potion supplies.
Nobody asked Adriana's opinion about her betrothal, and why should they? Marriages weren't made for love, after all, or even compatibility. Marriage was politics, a way to advance status and increase wealth and alliances. He was the English Prince, she was the Spanish Rose, the match was made, end of story.
She knew it would be a disaster. Neither she nor Draco submitted well to authority or others' dictates; both resented relinquishing control. Neither had chosen marriage to a virtual stranger. They would take their anger out on each other, resenting the other's intruding on their life. It would be a loveless marriage, so much less than either wanted or deserved. If they were very, very lucky, they might manage to make it through by civility, or a tenuous friendship, but it wasn't likely. Their resentment of their vows would likely destroy any amicability they might win in the short term. It was sad, really; they could have been so much more than they were going to become, but now they would always keep each other at an arm's length.
He was everything that was wrong for her.
He was everything she was given.
He was everything she wanted.
He was everything she would never have.