Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from anything written in this chapter or any chapter after this one
He had turned seventeen over the summer. . . on the same day as his nemesis, Harry Potter, though he'd never have admitted it. His mother and father had always held his celebrations on a different day because of the association it may have caused. Not even his closest friends knew the real date.
He had grown not only in age, but in body as well, as proved by his tall, sculpted frame. Every muscle was taught and hard. He was no longer lanky or thin. His white-blonde hair was now cropped short; he ran his fingers through it and messed it up in spikes.
He had developed in ideals as well. He'd realized some time ago that his father's morals were wrong. His ways were dark. He wasn't exactly sure he'd ever believed in the Dark Arts. It was, by his reckoning, fear that had held him in the Dark path he was so accustomed to now. But fear, he no longer felt.
With his maturity, his powers had also grown. He held enough power now to rival every wizard he personally knew, and even some that had gone down in the history books. He surpassed his father in power. His father would not force him down a path of destruction.
So much had changed. So much was different. He was so different. He wanted to be good. He wanted to forget most of the things that his father had taught him. He would try; it was all he could do.
Draco Malfoy sat pondering with his fingers laced and his elbows resting on the table. His thumbs rested on his lips and the silver crest of his family gleamed in the gloomy summer light. He often wondered why it was so dark these days. Could it be the return of the Dark Lord? His black V-neck t-shirt was almost too light for the temperature. His black leather jacked rested on the back of his chair. It was as if the whole world was depressed. . . or oppressed. He looked at his watch. He'd been here for some time, he realized as he took a sip of his coffee. Crabbe and Goyle should've been here by now. The imbeciles probably got caught, he thought.
It was their practice to sneak away to London ever so often. Draco would never confess it, but he liked to surround himself with muggles on occasion. It made him feel normal. It made him feel powerful. He felt a longing for it every day. That was one thing that Harry Potter had that he didn't.
Draco had learned not to hate Harry over the past year. There was no love lost between them, sure, but he no longer wanted to see him defeated or worse. He envied Harry the company he kept. He envied the love that everyone felt for the Boy Who Lived. He wanted not the adoration, but the intelligent companionship that Harry Potter's friends gave him. What he wouldn't give to have intelligence surround him. He was sick of the dimwitted duo that followed him like puppies waiting to be given orders. It irritated him so.
He glanced at his watch again. They weren't going to show. He might have figured as much. He dropped some muggle money onto the table, motioned at the waitress that it was there, and rose to leave. Slouching on his jacket he jerked the collar up and shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded relaxed fit jeans and walked out the door. Draco kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk with his biker boots, stalling, wishing he didn't have to head back to his home. That was the worst part of these escapades.
Draco looked up and down the street, trying to decide if there was something else he could do to waste time. He felt it then: something wrapped around his shin. Looking down, he saw a scarf the color of blood, made of the softest, most thin material he'd ever seen. It was intriguing. He sensed a faint scent, but could not tell exactly what it was. He lifted it close to his face and inhaled. It was like cinnamon and apples, but more . . . floral? He wasn't quite sure . . .it was unique.
It then occurred to him to look around for the owner. With all the people around, he almost missed her. Turning a corner down the block, she was walking away from him at a quick pace. Her fur covered boots and white jacket stood out enough in the crowd of dark garments, if the cranberry colored toboggan wasn't enough to keep track of her.
Draco started off quickly in her direction. Something inside told him not to let it go easily. Someone knocked him off course and he just knew he'd lost her. He began to jog and wheeled around the corner she'd turned. To both of their immediate surprise, he crashed right into her, nearly falling himself, but twisting and regaining balance perfectly to catch her as she fell. The way he held her with his left arm was as if he'd dipped her while they were dancing. Their eyes locked.
Draco was taken aback. He was trapped in her gaze. He felt paralyzed as he took in her beautiful face. Her rose colored lips were parted ever so slightly, glazed a little and shining in the pale light. Her skin was perfect. Flawless and pale, it was like malleable porcelain. He resisted the urge to brush it gently with his free hand. Her eyes were like liquid topaz, almost honey colored, with flecks of gold in them. He eyelashes were long and curved and brushed her cheeks as she blinked. Her hair was long and straight, like satin, caramel and spilled over his arm as he held her. Her scent of cinnamon and apples overpowered his senses to the point that he had to fight himself to keep from kissing her. She was angelic.
Suddenly, after what seemed like an eternity, something flashed in her eyes. It was anger. She wiggled free and stood up, straightening her jacket, and looking off put. Draco straightened before trying to speak.
"I'm sorry-" he started.
"I'd hope so. That was very ru-"she notice the scarf then and grabbed at her neck. She narrowed her eyes. "Where did you get that?"
Draco frowned as if confused. He tilted his head sideways. He then remembered the scarf he had been chasing her to return. He offered it as if searching for words.
"It- uh – I found it . . ,"he said gauging her reaction, "I was trying to return it. . ."
She snatched it and frowned. She looked at him as if questioning his motives.
"Why?" she asked. He shoved his hands back in his pockets.
"I'm not sure," he mumbled, "I, uh, I just figured it looked special and you might want it back."
Her mouth bobbed open and shut several times before she actually closed it. She looked confused. Putting the scarf in her pocket, she looked a Draco, pursed her lips and began to walk away. She stopped and turned back. Draco opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.
"Thank you," she said, frowning as if she wasn't sure what to say. He nodded as she began to walk away again. Something in his heart wouldn't let him let her walk away.
"Wait," he said, gently grabbing her arm. She turned and looked at his hand, and then his face. He was almost speechless. Why does it seem like she dislikes having to thank me? Why does she seem so familiar?, he asked himself. He was sure he'd never see her again after this. He had never gone after a girl like this. He'd never felt pulled to any one of the many that had been in his past.
"Would you . . .lets go get something to eat . . . or some coffee?" he asked, sheepishly.
She looked torn. She rocked back and forth, towards him and away from him. She looked at him again, making eye contact with him for the first time since he caught her. As soon as their eyes met, the tense undecision that had engulfed them faded as suddenly as it had come about. She bit her bottom lip and nodded. They headed toward the restaurant down from where they had literally bumped into each other. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, warily. They walked in silence.
Draco got chills down his spine when they entered the restaurant. She seemed to be keeping her distance from him. He felt that something was starting . . . something life changing. He felt alive for the first time in a long time.
She remained quiet until the waitress came; she ordered a coke. Draco ordered the same. She studied her napkin silently for a long while. He watched her. She was fascinating. He couldn't shake the feeling that he knew her. No matter how silly it sounded, no matter how impossible it was, he felt like he'd met her somewhere before. She glanced up through her eyelashes at him, making his heart speed up and slow down at the same time. He had never felt things like this. They confused him.
The waitress came to take their orders. She ordered the Tortilla Soup, he had the same. Funny she'd picked his favorite item at this restaurant. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then decided better of it. She frowned and opened her mouth again, then thought better of it . . . again. This amused Draco for some reason. He gave her a crooked grin and spoke.
"Was there something you wanted to ask me?" he said. She looked encouraged.
"Its funny that you ordered that . . ." she started, "I've been coming here with my parents since I was very small . . . that's all I've ever had here. Its my favorite." Draco was surprised. She had read his mind.
"I've been coming here since I was old enough to sneak away from home. Its my favorite too." She smiled a little at that.
"How old are you?" he asked. She frowned as if she expected him to know that already.
"Seventeen . . ." she replied. He got the feeling that the familiarity of her face should be way more obvious, but he couldn't place it.
"Where do you go to school?" he asked. Again, she frowned.
"Actually, I go to school at Hogwart's . . . with you . . ."she answered. His jaw dropped.
"So then you know who I am" he said, almost disappointedly. The anger she had shown earlier must have been because of that fact alone. She just added fuel to that fire.
"I do. And I know that you're probably the worst of the worst in Slytherin House." He cringed at that
"Please, don't think that . . ," he whispered. She looked surprised. Then remorseful.
"I'm sorry . . . You've always seemed so proud of being bad . . ." He looked up at her.
"I was . . . I'm not so certain anymore . . ."
He felt strange. He'd never opened up to anyone like this. He wasn't sure he liked that he wanted to tell this girl the truth when he didn't even know who she was. He ended the thread right there. He wouldn't expose his weaknesses to her yet . . . if ever.
"So why've I never seen you at school before?" he asked her. She took on a strange look, almost on of awe.
"I'm surprised you haven't," she replied vaguely.
"Fair enough . . ." he said.
Their food arrived. As they talked, they realized they had a lot more in common than they'd realized before. They'd talked about everything from parents, hers were non-magic, to classes, she was in advanced placement, as was he though no one realized it. They were both against the Dark Lord, which came as a surprise to her.
It was strange. He still hadn't asked her her name when they rose to leave. They'd both smiled after the ice was broken. She'd warmed up to him after a while. When they'd gotten to the door, she'd hesitated for just a second.
"Thank you for this," she started, looking at the floor. "I enjoyed it, actually."
"Your welcome," he said, smiling, "I had fun too." I don't want you to go, he thought.
"I guess I'll see you at school," she said as she took a step back. He grabbed her hand and looked at her almost pleadingly. She grasped his back. He pulled her closer and stared into her topaz eyes. He inhaled her cinnamon and apple scent. She looked so innocent standing there. So . . .
"Angelic . . ." he breathed. She swallowed hard.
"What," she said quietly. He opened his mouth to speak, but her scent got the better of him. Before he knew what he was doing, Draco scooped her up and kissed her hard. She resisted at first, but relaxed into it after a second. She whimpered. He released her lips and stared down into her eyes. She was breathless and flushed. It was all he could do not to disapparate them to his bedroom in an apartment he'd rented here in the city for his time alone. She clung to him for support. He set her upright. She acted as if she wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. He touched her hair as it spilled over her shoulders in a caramel river.
"Are you going to tell me your name now?" he asked playfully. She gave him a sexy, crooked grin and shook her head.
"If you really meant what you just implied, then I have no doubt that you'll figure it out," she answered while walking backward.
"Then I'll just call you Angel," he whispered as she disappeared looking back and grinning as she faded into the crowd.
My Angel, he thought. He'd just found his redemption. At least he thought he had. Draco was obsessed. He lightly touched his lips and savored the sensitivity from the kiss. She tasted so good. Everything about her was good. Her scent lingered in his senses, on his jacket. He wanted her. He'd find out who she was. He had his ways. Time would tell how soon.
A/N: This is my first Harry Potter fan fic that I am writing as pennance to my sister for not helping her with her college essay. It was kinda her idea, well, both of our idea, and I figured I'd give her credit. Please read and review! I like knowing what I can do to improve my writing! Thank you!