disclaimer: i do not own the rights to Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's characters, such as Draco Malfoy or the rights to Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia Ice Cream flavor.
The first time Draco noticed her, she was dancing along the hallways with Loony Lovegood.
He remembered this, first of all, because of her unnatural, bright, candy apple colored hair and her shining emerald colored eyes - and thought that she looked like he hadn't belonged there - and second of all, he hadn't remembered anyone looking so at ease prancing down the hallway to Potions class with Loony Lovegood, much less a Hufflepuff. But as soon as they spun around a corner, they were forgotten and thrust to the back of his mind, where useless things usually dwelled.
The second time Draco noticed her, they were in Ancient Runes. She had dashed in late, quite gracefully, Draco noticed, and gave Professor Babbling quite a scare.
"Charlotte Garcia," huffed the professor. "you are late!"
And the girl just blinked and smiled. "Yes, Professor, I know. I apologize for my tardiness, but there was a big mess by the bathrooms, and I was helping Mr. Filch." Her accent, Draco observed, was utterly and disgustingly American. There was a collective snicker throughout the classroom before Babbling hushed everyone and waved the girl off to find a seat and turned and started her lecture again. Of course, the only empty chair would be right by his side.
Draco Malfoy had been quite a recluse since coming back to finish his education. He was an outcast amongst the whole school, which was really expected. He knew he was hated, and he knew he wasn't going to be forgiven easily. Merlin knew he didn't deserve it. Hell, he'd contemplated Avada-ing himself on more than one occasion. The only thing, really, keeping him alive was his mother. The woman was never directly nurturing or motherly, but she tried and loved him more than anything. And ever since his father had been sentenced to a Dementor's Kiss, she'd clung to Draco more than ever, pressuring him to return to school and restore the Malfoy name. It'd been harder than it seemed, unbeknownst to her.
Charlotte sat next to him, pressing herself against the desk with a lazy smile on her face. It looked as if she'd just gotten the best snog of her life, and Draco rolled his eyes. They sat, listening to the frumpy professor's dull lecture that he was sure she gave three days prior for fifteen minutes before a small piece of parchment appeared in front of him.
Draco blinked before reaching in front of him and opened it. For a second, the paper was blank, and he looked around confusedly. And then, instantly, one word appeared on the page, in neat, loopy script.
Hi there.
When he looked around again, the girl beside him caught his gaze and smiled, blinking her sparkling eyes. Draco furrowed his eyebrows, and before he could speak, she nodded at the paper. Still confused, he looked down at the parchment in his hands. Right before his eyes, letter by letter, words seemed to write themselves in the same loopy handwriting.
You seem a bit bored, just sitting there staring at the teacher, it read. She gave this lecture the other day, no? Thought we could write if you like.
Draco just blinked his eyes, becoming increasingly confused. He snapped his head up to look at the girl again, and this time, she was leaning on her elbow, her eyes flickering back and forth between him and the front of the room, her expression looking as bored as he'd felt two minutes ago. When he caught her gaze again, she smiled, her eyes now flickering to the paper in his hands.
Are you going to write me back? I'm starting to think I'm talking to myself…
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips before he discreetly pointed his wand at the paper, thinking up a quick spell. Words appeared on the note instantly and he silently reached up and slid the paper to her.
How are you doing that without a wand? he wrote. It was a curious thing, writing a secret note to someone like he was in fourth year or something. And to a girl, nonetheless…
Instantaneously, the paper was in front of him, with her reply right below his.
Magic.
At this reply, Draco looked up, eyebrow raised, only to see her wink at him. He felt his ears go warm and looked back down to see words appear, letter by letter.
What's your name?
It was an innocent enough question, but suspicion crept it's way into his mind. Did this girl really not know who he was, he wondered. He flickered his gaze toward her to see her staring ahead, before averting his eyes back down again before he was caught again. Out of habit, he couldn't help but think this girl was simply playing him, like so many others before the war ended.
Girls threw themselves at him, both scared and enthralled at the power his family represented. They knew it was dangerous, but they wanted it. It was mainly the girls in Slytherin, whose mothers and fathers were below his and looking for something to brag about. Draco, while being both a boy with raging hormones and preposterously pompous at the time before he'd taken the Dark Mark, accepted these girls and their questionable intentions for a few months. And then he'd the Dark Mark had been forced upon him, and his resolve crumbled around him.
But this girl…
He didn't know what possessed him to do it, really. He knew it was crazy, to put even a small amount of trust in someone he'd only seen twice in three months; even more so when they had class together and he never even noticed her (but to be fair, Draco didn't notice much of anything around him anymore).
Draco Malfoy.
The words were on the paper faster than he'd thought magically possible, but his mind was a lot slower these days.
He didn't look at her when he passed her the paper, nor when he heard the familiar soft crinkle as it appeared in his lap. He propped his elbow on the table and read her response.
What an interesting name, it said. Although, I guess I don't have room to talk. Mine is Charlotte, but most people call me Cherry.
He didn't have time to think of a response because the professor dismissed the class as soon as he finished reading. Suddenly, the paper vanished from his hands and when he looked up, Cherry was dancing away, her curly locks swishing behind her as she twirled out of class. Draco sighed and made his way to the great hall for lunch.
That night, when Blaise Zabini entered their shared dormitory, he approached Draco with a smug smirk perched upon his face.
"Fraternizing with Mudbloods, are we now, Malfoy?" he teased, leaning against his own bedpost.
Draco looked up from the book he'd been reading in confusion. His and Blaise's friendship ended when the war did. Not his choice, really, because if anything, Draco absolutely loathed being alone. And his isolation from the other students was not exactly self-inflicted. Aside from a few snide comments about his family here and there, he was generally ignored. Especially by fellow Slytherins and all his ex friends, with Blaise Zabini at the top of the list.
"What in Merlin's name are you on about, Zabini?" he asked dully, arching a slim, blond eyebrow. Blaise's smirk only grew.
"That girl with the crazy colored hair? Yeah, that Mudblood," he replied simply before turning and strutting out of the room.
The third time he noticed her, she was sitting against one of the long, vertical rocks in Stone Circle. Her hair was tied up in a long curly ponytail and she had strange ear plugs in her ears that reminded him vaguely of the Weasley Extendable Ears many of the first years snuck in at the beginning of term. She sat there on the grass, clad in muggle clothing, with a book perched on her lap. He stood, camouflaged by the shadows in the entrance to the covered bridge, just watching her for a moment.
He watched as she looked up from her book, took in a deep breath and stretched, before closing her book, standing up and stretched again. He watched as she lost her footing and to his horror, fell back against the long rock, scraping her arm, and her hands as she caught herself.
As he approached he heard a string of curses fly from her mouth.
"Motherf—ugh! Dios mio, aye, chinga! Ow, ow, ow, fuck, shit, bitch, cunt, ow!" she whined, carefully poking and prodding her arm. Draco was stunned for a millisecond at her sailor's mouth. She didn't look like she had it in her, really. By the time he snapped out of it, he was three yards away from her. And that's when she noticed him.
She stared for a second, her green eyes taken on a bluish hue from the unshed tears pooling in her eyes, before throwing him a grimace and going back to poking and prodding experimentally.
"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling out an old white handkerchief from his back pocket. He gently took her arm and started dabbing carefully.
"If I say yes are you going to go away?" she asked, her eyes flickering between his face and his hands. He stopped his motions and considered her. Did this mean she wanted him to go away? He chose his next words carefully.
"If I say yes, what would be your answer?" he asked, looking back down and continued inspecting her arm. Scrapes descended down her arm and trails of bright red blood trickled out of the scrapes slowly. Her hand had cuts criss-crossing across her palm and he wiped them with caution.
"Um, my answer would have to be no, then." Draco looked up at her to see her familiar smile gracing her lips.
"We should still take you to the hospital wing to get this healed properly," he said. "You probably don't want this to scar."
"Actually," she sniffled, "They're nothing to be ashamed of."
When Draco just stared at her, she elaborated. "I'm a clumsy person," she shrugged. "I don't care. It's who I am. Scars are a part of everyone, right? They make up who you are."
At that moment, Draco couldn't help but think of the scar on his left forearm that he was oh, so ashamed of. He'd do anything to get that thing off of his body, but it was a permanent scar that no amount of healing would get rid of. She didn't know how lucky she was to have a choice.
"You still want to get it cleaned properly, though. Come on, I'll take you there," he said instead, leading her up to the Covered Bridge. She followed, but not quietly, not that Draco really minded.
"Oh, I can just hear my dads now," she groaned. "'Cherry Garcia, what happened now?' I'm always getting myself landed in the emergency room, you know. Once, I dislocated my knee cap when I was in fifth grade…."
Draco listened to her story, but let his eyes wander to her arm, where blood was still oozing out; it wasn't brown, like he was raised to believe, but red, just like his blood rushing through his veins, just like the color of cherries…
a/n: Just a little idea I got from mi helado favorito:)
I hope you enjoy, not sure if I'll continue, but... maybe?
review if you like.
