This is my first fan-fiction so obviously, isn't the best in the world. For many years, I have lurked in the shadows reading everyone's stories and thought to myself I should give it a go, so here it is.

His Beautiful Girl

Stormy grey eyes glittered through the slight obscured darkness, barely lit by the constant flicker of her dimming candle. He watched. It became compulsory like clockwork, to stand in the shadows, watching her furious scribbling of quills etching through parchment, her fingertips callous from frenzied abuse.

His girl.

If one was to tell Draco Malfoy a few years ago that he would stare enraptured every evening in the shadowy depths of the library, watching fixedly at Hermione Granger, he would've laughed. Bugger that. He would have had been fuming and hex the person for saying such idiotic things. Yet standing here now, he watched the muggleborn admiringly from afar, yearning for what he knew was untouchable to him.

His beautiful girl.

He shook his head sadly, blonde strands falling from unruly hair as he ran his hands through his once well-preened locks. She was beautiful and she didn't know it. Of course she did have some faults, doesn't everyone? Her hair resembled that of a bird's nest he jested to himself. Yet, the night of the Yule Ball her once unruly hair, cascaded in ringlets down her shoulders and it framed her face so perfectly that it made him realize that night; she was divine. She hid behind dusty old books and her ever-expanding knowledge because that was what was expected of her, she was the brains of the 'Golden Trio' so to speak that she never felt the need to care about her appearance. She never has done, simply because she's never felt she would attract anyone.

He rolled his eyes at the pure irony of it. His raw attraction to her was the mystery cloaking her. He wanted to get under her skin and know the real her. He wanted to be her challenge that would leave her puzzled for hours, leave her constantly pacing as she tried to work out the inexplicable feelings for him before vehemently denying her own attraction to him. Merlin he knew she was attracted to him. Their constant arguments and bickering only proved the fire he could ignite in her. He knew though that despite the attraction, his foul mouth and wretched family pulled him down, yet he wished it didn't. He scowled in the darkness, he could have any woman in the world groveling at his feet for the pure wealth and fortune he carried.

But his beautiful girl hated him.

And he couldn't blame her. He was and still is a git, but only to keep up appearances. He used to believe in Pure-Blood superiority but how would she ever know that he doesn't anymore? He chuckled silently to himself before flickering his eyes to the girl soundly asleep on the table. Moving forwards slowly, he picked up the abandoned book carefully not to ruin the pages and placed it on the shelf, before running shaky fingers gently through her hair finding it shockingly, soft.

He sneered disapprovingly of his pure infatuation and tried to pull away, trying to shake the shackles that Hermione has unknowingly cuffed to him but the more he tried to will it away, the more he fell for the mysterious witch. Her intelligence was something that made him shudder, her own thirst of knowledge was desirable to him, the way her caramel eyes yearned to be satisfied, the small crease between her eyebrows puckering whilst she furiously read. Her determination to strive was a quality of her he admired, yet people like Potter and the Weasel abused that. They exploited her, simply because of her intelligence, used it to their every whim and yet she didn't mind, she felt they were the only people who could care for her.

She's wrong.

Draco himself, knew that he used her in some way, tormenting her with his vile insults which he did not wish to use, just so that he could have those few moments of her attention. It was sick-twisted. Hell he was sick himself but love made people fools. Whilst he was certain he wasn't in love, he was certain he would be despite her hatred of him. Why? Because simply the quality he admired most about her was her compassion and in the future, he would stop being the coward he is. Stop the false pretenses and walk out from the shadow of his heritage and he will sit, willingly and devotedly in the chair opposite her now and spill every one of his secrets. And he knew. He knew she would warm to him eventually because of her compassion and trust.

And maybe, just maybe, she would fall for him too... The same way his wretched heart had been captured by hers. But for now, for the present moment of time he would always watch her, it made him peaceful. As he walked away from her slouched form, he looked back before steadily walking to his room, his robes billowing out as his shoes clicked against the cold floors.

Yes, Draco Malfoy knew his Hermione well.

He knew his beautiful girl very well...

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VintageButterflies
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