Title: Winter Nights
Author: Elli Cole
Feedbacks: Well, duh.
Rating: M—maybe… let me think about adding smut.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, okay? Very good!
Summary: She waited on the balcony of her room and he watched her from below. He couldn't help but think of how much time it took just for him to notice her. Dhr. Pre-HBP.
A/N: Er, a very late Christmas pressie but still, it's the thought that counts, right? I hope you guys like it.
Chapter One"Let us not remember our troubles past, since they so happily have ended."
—The Tempest
Christmas was near.
Preparations were already on progress and the whole school was in an excited rage. Christmas decors were put up above each House tables and various wreaths and mistletoes were attached atop the doorframes. Several Ravenclaws strolled along the Great Hall in haste, in hand were light bulbs and green and red decorations.
Some of the Gryffindors were strutting along the corridors, arms linked with each other as they laughed at their Christmas jokes. The Hufflepuffs were giggling along with themselves as they walked towards wherever destination they have planned to go to. The Slytherins, however, were different. They stayed stoic, quiet in the darkest corners of the Great Hall as candles dimly lighted it.
One Slytherin in particular kept on giving surreptitious glances to a certain Gryffindor muggle-born. His blue-gray eyes flickered towards her figure that stayed still one chair opposite his side, a book in hand. He slyly observed her through half-lidded eyes, his lips curled into a small smirk. Her flowing brown locks cascaded down on her shoulders; the half of the page was hid from her view. Her hazel eyes darted out on each text, her mind subconsciously memorizing every information.
It was just like her.
He almost chuckled out loud when she blew on a stray hair cutely. His own blond locks dropped down against his forehead. He ignored it and kept his attention to the Gryffindor who he thought he hated a few years ago. He frowned at the memories that evaded his head. All those wasted years. Ruined by just a superstition. He shouldn't have listened to his father.
He shook his head at the thought of his father.
No.
He should have forgotten about it already. It was the most gruesome thing that he had to erase from his mind. He didn't need them—every single one of them. They were all useless. He scowled at one girl in his house as she passed by. She scurried away when she heard him growl menacingly. Wench.
Some nerve that she showed herself to him.
He sneered at her when she looked back at him. Her eyes widened and her face flustered. "What are you looking at, Parkinson?" He sneered at her when she weakly glared at him.
"Just your stupid, pompous face, Malfoy." She angrily retorted back.
Draco arched a brow at her and sneered. "Heard that, mates?" He drawled calmly. "The traitor is showing some bravery now. Think that the Gryffindors rubbed in on her?"
The Slytherins snickered at the embarrassed Pansy as she stalked away with a huff.
Draco rolled his eyes at her and everybody became silent once again.
&
"Hermione," a small voice whispered.
A girl with wavy brown hair whipped her head towards the source of the voice and fixed her hazel orbs to a jittering Neville Longbottom. Her eyes softened at the sight of him and whispered back, "What's wrong, Neville?"
He took a large gulp and shakily answered, "Well, I noticed that Malfoy hasn't shifted his stare from you. It's getting creepy."
Hermione's brows furrowed in deep thought and her eyes widened when she felt it. The intensity of someone's attention—towards her. She slowly, gingerly, lowered her gaze and looked at Draco within lidded eyes. She almost gasped aloud when she came in contact with his gaze.
"Hermione?" Neville asked. She didn't budge. Her gaze fixed with the Slytherin before her. "Hermione!" Neville repeated.
Hermione, still, was deathly silent.
Her heart was beating faster than her normal rate and she felt her blood boil within her veins. His eyes… it held something in it that enchanted Hermione. She couldn't look away. There was something in it that she couldn't decipher. But she needed—she yearned to know more about it. Though she tried, she never had the chance to.
She sighed.
Being the Head Girl meant that she was supposed to share the Head Common Room with the Head Boy. It meant no surprise for her that Draco Malfoy had made it as Head. Of course, everybody had anticipated that already. Hermione as Head Girl and Draco as Head Boy; it was all planned from the end of their sixth year. Dumbledore had told Harry specifically that he would not be able to make it as Head Boy considering that he had partially passed some of his classes—keyword: partially.
Harry wasn't really surprised though. He already knew of that. But one thing he didn't expect… and that was Draco Malfoy getting the position he was turned down from. Hermione could still remember it well…
—"You're kidding, right?" He squeaked from his chair. "I mean, Malfoy? The ferret as Head Boy? Was that even approved to be in the same sentence?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at him and nodded her head annoyingly. "For the last time Harry, yes! He had gotten the position and—I'll be living in Hell for the whole year!"
Harry groaned and pitifully patted Hermione's hand. "I'm truly sorry, 'Mione… If only I had the chance to change it and, really, I'll do it but—"
Hermione smiled thankfully. "I know, Harry, I know."—
He was really angered by the mere idea of having Hermione to share a whole common room with Malfoy. Well, she thought wryly. Nobody in Gryffindor really trusted Malfoy so it was quite expected from Harry as well. But to act childish and inconsiderate like Ron? Not likely, really.
—Ron jumped from his seat and maniacally shifted his eyes from side to side as if to expect Malfoy to pop out from nowhere. "Malfoy? Are you serious? It's Malfoy we're talking about!"—
Hermione rolled her eyes at the memory. Really, as that's how boys think—she really doubted if they were all knocked up in the head.
On which end?
She giggled at the innuendo. She couldn't let her thoughts stray any longer on that. She quieted herself down and resumed on her silent disposition. Later that night, she'll plan her course of action for the whole year. Schedules on the activities, balls and parties, her duty as the Head Girl, and making sure that Malfoy doesn't piss her off too much.
She nodded at her plan.
I'll make this my perfect year if I have anything to say about it.
&
A dark, starless sky hovered above his head as he walked aimlessly outside the walls of Hogwarts. His icy, gray eyes blankly gazed upon the black sky. His platinum blond hair softly bristled in the wind, and his robes billowed across his back. It was a perfect night for Quidditch practice.
But why wasn't he practicing?
He slid down on the ground. He didn't care about grass-stains now, he wanted some peace and quiet. The lake across him reflected the full moon that lone adorned the sky's vast emptiness. It fully relaxed his tense muscles as he sighed in content.
All day, all he ever thought of was that mudblood. The Head Girl. The perfect little know-it-all. The teacher's pet. And one of the Golden Trio that he loathed with a passion—until now.
He just couldn't quite place what had happened to make her seem so… delectable. Her wavy tresses that were once a mass of unruly mop had became so tamed. Her big brown orbs that seemed to suck him in to the very depth of her soul. And her curves… she had filled out every damned space place that she didn't have once had.
She wasn't supposed to turn out like this.
How can he hate her now?
He groaned out loud and fisted a handful of grass, the dirt soiling his fingers that he ignored. He looked up, stared at the sky, and froze.
Above him, on the balcony was his current obsession.
He watched her from afar… and it became a nightly ritual.