The Grass Is Always Greener, a harry potter fanfic

Hi, all!

Another challenge... this one's on colours. I chose green and got this funny Latin-sounding one. I like it. It's kinda rustic and epic. Thanks to Vanity Sinning for the amazing challenge.

Here we go -

I watched her everyday. Not in the stalker kind of watching... It was more like observing her.

It started first year. She'd knocked on the compartment door. Her sweet voice rang through the small little room.

She had asked if any of us had seen a toad. They – Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise – all shook their heads and I snorted. "A toad... who wants a toad?"

"A boy named Neville Longbottom, evidently."

I nodded, disregarding her answer and she left.

To this day, I still don't understand why she affected me so. Her innocence, maybe? Her undying want to help others? Maybe. Who knows?

Second year followed the same, until my father fully explained how dirty Mudbloods really were. Looking back, he was quite a twisted man, but to a twelve year old me – he was a hero.

Third year, my watching grew much stronger after she slapped me. I know what you're thinking, why would I like someone who slapped you? She was the only person that stood up to arrogant, silly-teenage-boy Draco, that's why.

I got her back in fourth year with that teeth-growing jinx, though. Just saying.

I suppose she got me back when she turned up on Krum's arm. Shut me down, didn't it? After saying she couldn't get a date. Krum, for crying out loud... Then again, she was the most stunning girl, that night. Out-shined Delacour, in my opinion.

Fifth year... ah, fifth year. The year "It" held the reins of Hogwarts.

She always trotted in step with Saint Potter and The Weasel King, making a fancy club called "Dumbledore's Army".

Potter's "Holier-than-thou" attitude had him made a teacher... Should've been her. She was smarter. Sure, she wasn't always as skilled as he, but she sure as hell had the theory down.

Sixth year is a year I don't like recounting. She tried to help me, at one point. Kind of like... she wanted to keep me the same as I was. Not a Death Eater. A person. Whole. Human.

Seventh year was a confusing year. I had to stop thinking about her. I thought it would be easy to forget her, because she wasn't even at Hogwarts. It was tougher than I thought. Each day, I'd wonder where she was, and why. Then question myself as to why I cared. I didn't know.

After the Battle, I saw her. Standing amongst gingers, and of course, Potter. Hugs, tears, and silence consumed them, where as everyone else was screaming, crying hysterically or muttering condolences. The world around them had been snuffed out.

She'd caught my eye and I offered a clearly very weak, apologetic smile. She nodded to her "wizard-family" – I'd once heard her call them – and walked over to me.

"You tried to save him. You tried to save Fred." she whispered, staring up at me with teary, wide, chocolate brown eyes. I got a little lost in them and nodded dumbly.

She swallowed and hugged me. "Thank you, Draco. You tried; that's what counts."

I wrapped my arms slowly around her, a little awkwardly. I don't know why, but I had an urge to blush. I held it down, though. Just.

"It's okay..." I whispered, unable to choke out her name.

She nodded against my chest, left my embrace, smiled at me and then walked away.

For a good few years, that was the last I'd seen her.

I'd think about her, constantly. Every night, when I went to bed, and every morning when I woke up, it'd be her face in my head.

We worked in the same wing of the Ministry. I'd heard talk of her office seven rows down and eighteen doors to the right.

I never had the courage to go in and visit her, though.

I guess that's why I wasn't in Gryffindor.

As I sat back in my office chair, thinking about her again, forgetting my work on particular potions and what effect they have on people, I remembered something mother had always told me, when I was young.

"The grass is always greener on the other side."

I never understood what it meant. Looking back from the other side of the war, I understood it perfectly.

Grass meant life, in that sentence. And grass, when healthy, was greener. Healthy people were usually happy people. Therefore, when the grass was greener on the other side, it meant that life was happier on the other side.

Sides being Potter versus Voldemort, that is.

I could think of few good things about being on The Dark Lord's side. Money. Money. Supposed protection. Money.

Many a bad thing came to mind. Death. Torture. Killing. Bloodshed. Tears. Fear.

I couldn't think of bad things from the good side. I guessed death and loss of loved ones was one, but losing faith certainly didn't.

Good things coming from Potter's side? Please! I didn't even have to list them to know there would be an abundance of them.

I knew her "grass" would be a bright, healthy green. With an overwhelming amount love, friendship and support behind her.

Mine, on the other hand, looked like grass that, not long ago, would have been about to shrivel up completely and die. My "grass" looked like it was recuperating. A half-dried up, almost rustic green colour. A green that needed to get itself back on track. Which was what I was doing. Getting my life back on track. A good job and mother out of prison.

All I needed now was a steady woman.

My mind flashed back to her, but I knew she was with that stinking Weasel.

Yes, the grass is always greener on the other side.

If you're on the dark side, that is.

I liked this one.