Title: Infatuation
Author: Shinkou
Pairing: Draco/Harry (subtle, and maybe Harry/random-girl if you really want to)
Warnings: weird writing style (2nd person), might be hard to follow.... humor fic maybe, more of a contemplating fic.... yeah. o.O weird idea, but it was a concept that just popped into my head.
Summary: Someone's reading/analyzing Harry's thoughts. Or maybe it's just in his head. (seriously, I have no idea who's talking to him)
Author's notes: ah... yeah. spur-of-the-moment things. Oh and I have no idea what year he's in, or who the Ravenclaw girl is, or what year the Yule Ball takes place and stuff. o.O I just needed something to write there. yeah.
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You were always the first to notice Malfoy.
Like that one time, when you were deep in conversation with the Ravenclaw seventh year every boy wanted to tumble, at a table deep in the center of the library, with just a glimpse of the entranceway.
She had the most gorgeous eyes, clear cerulean blue. Stunning, smashing, completely irresistible. And that beautiful hair. Sight alone suggested a sensation akin to the softest silk in the world. Imagine what it would feel like in reality. The color, too, was breathtaking. Oh that shimmering mass of sunlight, of pure gold shaped into precious strands of lovely, perfumed locks.
But of course, blond hair had automatically reminded you of a certain annoying, moderately-large-prick-at-your-side Slytherin.
Oh and do not forget, you always thought about Malfoy.
Now that your attention had been successfully diverged, you began to wonder the exact texture and suppleness of your school rival's hair. You wondered if it would be softer, rougher, or lighter than the girl's in front of you, wondered if he took care of it just like her. Of course, in your mind, you believed that these thoughts only served as insults, because, obviously, guys never cared about hair.
At least, not you. But then again, your hair is as tamable as, well, Voldemort. Maybe your rat nest will settle into the greatest hairstyle ever known to men the day old Voldie dies.
Or maybe not.
In any case, your attention was redirected when the beauty queen began to speak. She asked what you were looking at. You replied that her hair was quite bewitching. She giggled at the little pun, and it was like crisp jingling bells on a summer day.
But you did not notice, for a distinct and, only to you, unique footstep was drawing nearer, just outside of the library door.
You turn in your chair, and gray eyes locked with green. A second. Eternity. A sneer. A glare. And the mood was broken.
Malfoy strolled lazily toward you, his steps light and measured. Beside him came the thump thump of his thugs, slightly too slow to keep up and slightly too wide to fit between the bookshelves. Your eyes followed his every movement, up to the opening of his lips to drawl out an insult.
"Really, Potter, brainwashing innocent girls again? If you really feel the need to impress someone, do restrain yourself to mudbloods and Weasleys, will you?" He glided beside the Ravenclaw and picked up her hand gracefully. "Beauties like these are reserved for people with higher intelligence and status."
He kissed her hand. She blushed. You pushed your chair back angrily without knowing which caused the reaction. The girl stood up as well, surprised. She glanced from Malfoy back to you, then promptly snatched her hand from his grasp and ran out the door.
Your glare intensified, still angry for the same unknown reason. "I can always trust a Malfoy to send girls running out the door," you spat out.
He smirked. "If I remembered correctly, you were the one who stood up too fast and frightened her sensitive nerves." His thugs snorted with mirth.
Suddenly you noticed a strand of blond hair falling out of his perfection, not enough to disrupt but enough to be observed, and your thoughts were violently thrown back into the track of your earlier contemplation. You tightened your fists, and you could feel the red of anger creeping into your face.
At least, that was what you perceived it as.
"Your childish nagging annoys me," you said, "and thanks to you, Malfoy, I've lost a possible date to the Yule ball." Standing up, you grabbed your books and headed for the door before he could retort.
Yet his voice found a way into your ears the way it always did. "The only dates you can get are my rejects, Potter," followed by a short little laugh.
His eyes burned you all the way out to the door.
You were always the first to notice Malfoy. Oh and do not forget, you always thought about Malfoy. Some might say that your actions resembled infatuation, but of course you would deny that to the grave.
However...
If you had realized that your feelings were not one-sided, that there was much more to those sneering, insulting words, would you have denied it then?
......
I thought not.
fin. (or is it? hm....)
side note: these are all basically stand alone fics.