Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all the characters in this fan fiction belong solely to the amazing J.K. Rowling. Only the plot is mine, and please don't copy that.
AN:
So, hi! Welcome to my fic! This is actually the first one that I publish anywhere, so I really hope you like it! I am open to criticism, of course, all I ask is that you're nice! :)
I've chosen to rate this story M because of swearing, violence and then there might be some steamier stuff later on, we'll see, and if that happens, I will put an alert in the start of the chapter... So if you aren't comfortable with any of this, or if you're too young, then this is your warning!
With regards to updating; I'll try to do it as often as possible, but since this is my first fic, I don't want to make any promises juuuust yet, simply because I don't want to let anyone down over this. But I swear, I'll try to be as regular about it as I can!
I hope you enjoy! :)
- Kris
Draco couldn't tell you when it had all started. All he knew was that it was driving him absolutely and utterly mad.
Well, she, not it, was driving him absolutely and utterly mad.
Perhaps it had been when she appeared adorned in exquisite and dazzling periwinkle, floating and twirling elegantly across the dance floor at the Yule Ball back in fourth year. For the first time ever, Draco had realized that she was actually a woman. Not just a girl; but a beautiful, fierce woman. Her usual mane of wild, honey brown hair (which he really quite loved, to be honest), had been tamed into an ornate and stylish up-do, only leaving a couple of wily curls to frame her gorgeous face. The dress robes had been fitted superbly. Flurrying around her, it had shown her young, but exquisitely sculptured curves that no one could have ever imagined to be there under the traditional school uniform; not even himself, and he had spent a fair amount of time imagining. And by bloody Salazar, her eyes, her fucking eyes. He didn't care how pathetic or cheesy it made him sound, but he had been hopelessly lost and had found himself all over again in her eyes from all across the room. They had sparkled and gleamed as she whirled around on the dance floor, and Draco had thought she was the most magnificent creature to have ever existed. She had held herself like a queen that night, well-deserving of all the admiring glances and compliments. He had been unable to do anything but stare as he tried to fend off Pansy's obviously jealous tirade, mentally rolling his eyes when she whiningly claimed that she was "way prettier" than her. As if.
Perhaps he had fallen in love with her then.
But perhaps it had been even before that. Perhaps it had been when she had bolted towards him in third year, all fiery beauty as her rebellious curls had shined under the sun and her eyes had been alive and glistening with fury. Her words had been, as they always were, sharp and biting and honest, and he had realized, perhaps for the first time, how much that exhilarated and thrilled him. Her lovely voice had been frosty cold, yet burningly and meltingly hot at the same time, mesmerizing him totally and completely. And then she had punched him. And it had been an eye-opener; ironically enough, since he had been unable to open his eye for about a week after. She had positively burned him; her punch, his first ever received physical touch from her, had rattled him beyond his bones, deep in his core, until he had been unable to see anything but her; unable to hear anything but her; unable to feel anything but her.
Perhaps he had fallen in love with her then.
But maybe, just maybe, he had really always been in love with her. The idea was a bit ridiculous, because Draco wasn't sure he believed in such a foolish notion as 'love at first sight'; for Merlin's sake, he didn't even believe in love! Yet, he couldn't deny that she was the most intelligent, the most beautiful, the most passionate and the most intriguing person he had ever met, or seen, or even heard of. And here he sat, again, peering discretely (he hoped) at her from the Slytherin table, again, unable to stop thinking about her, again. So perhaps he had to concede, that maybe, he might be in love with her? But just maybe.
"Oy, Malfoy, are you alright? You've been staring into thin air for, like, half an hour. You aren't going loony like Lovegood, are you?" Draco's thoughts were interrupted rudely by a waving hand in his face, and the amused, yet slightly concerned, look on his best friend, Blaise Zabini's, face.
Draco quickly buried all thoughts of love beneath layers of cool indifference and aristocratic arrogance that only came with years and years of practice as he raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at his friend, arranging his features into a deadpan scowl before he replied with a simple, "Shut up, Zabini."
Blaise grinned at that, and breakfast continued in the usual fashion; Crabbe and Goyle were not paying attention to anything but the food in front of them, Pansy was raving on about something stupid with Daphne, occasionally sending seductive looks his way, Nott was eating and reading through the Daily Prophet at the same time, sporadically throwing in a word when the ongoing table conversation caught his fancy, and Draco rejoined Zabini in joking around about stupid Gryffindors.
But he couldn't stop himself from throwing a glance at said stupid Gryffindors every once in a while, or rather one Gryffindor in particular who definitely wasn't stupid at all.
Really, Hermione Granger was driving him absolutely and utterly mad.
AN:
So, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and please review - I'll check out anything you comment on, and I hope you want to read more!
- Kris! :)