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Romeo and Juliet

It's a story told many times, one just like the rest. A girl meets a boy. The boy is thrilling and unique. The boy is someone her parents would sorely disapprove of. He's the bad boy of the fairytale, the one she couldn't live without. He's dangerous and different and seems to care for her with a fierce loyalty she never felt before. He seems to exude the quiet, intense passion her life desperately needed.

It's a story like many others, only it's very different from the rest. Every tale has its own twist, its own ending. Each story is a fairy tale of its own, has a life of its own. Each story has it's own distinct magic, it's own Happily Ever After. Except for when the story played out before you is real, and the people in it are real, too.

They met for the first time in her fifth year. When I say met I mean, saw again for the first time, re-met after years and years of blind hatred. He was lounging by the lake, calm and cool, with his platinum hair falling into his silver eyes. He looked arrogant, so sure of himself, with that cold smirk plastered on his face, but really, how else is a Malfoy expected to look?

She walked, skipped is more like it, over to where he was sitting with her natural indifference, her usual bright smile. Her brown eyes glistened and her red hair shone like rubies and she plainly glowed of happiness. She plainly glowed of a beauty known only to those innocent enough to release it. And she saw him sitting there with a smirk on his face, so cold, so mysterious, and she smiled brightly at him. She smiled despite the coldness edged into his face and the harsh smirk she once thought must have been there since birth, but really, what else is a Weasley expected to do?

There isn't much to say about their first meeting. There were no sparks flying in the air. She heard no bells ringing in the wind and when his hand lightly grazed her own she felt no tingles. She felt no heat flood through her body. But this was the beginning, the beginning of their story, of their fairytale. She sat with him all day. She looked past his stony face, his icy eyes, and sat with him under an oak tree for hours talking about Quidditch statistics and why she liked chocolate frogs better than Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. She sat with him all day ignoring his slight glares and the imminent lecture she would get from Ron if he had happened to of seen her with him.

It began here, in this spot, in that moment, only that in truth their story had been going on for so much longer. But the beginning is dark and cruel. The beginning is full of fights about blood, of feelings of superiority, and of blatant hatred that they each felt for the other. The beginning of their story is sad and frustrating. The beginning of the story is miserable and heart wrenching and besides, does anyone truly wish to hear the bad side to a love story?

They started to meet everyday after that. She began searching for him throughout the castle. Frustration filling her eyes until the minute she spotted him when her eyes would sparkle and her smile become radiant. And him, sitting out by the lake claiming to like fresh air, but his stomach always knotted in anticipation of if she'll come or not. She would come, always did, because for some reason she couldn't bear to be away from him. She couldn't bear to not see his cold eyes that sometimes, even for a second, warmed at the sight of her. She couldn't beat to not witness the softness she felt he never showed to anyone else.

He would listen as she talked: half listen, half ignore, and didn't actually join in on her constant ramblings until a few weeks into the relationship. She would talk to him, about life, about school, about him. She fell for him. She fell for the way his hair fell into his eyes and for his cruel, but witty remarks. She fell for that slytherin coldness and aura of pride. She fell for the danger she felt lurking in the shadows every time he was near, the excitement she knew he would give her.

The surprise isn't in her falling for him, though, because most girls do. He has that element about him, that indescribable quality that draws girls to him. He was a natural charmer, an Adonis of modern times. But the surprise was in him liking her. In him enjoying her company, in laughing about her childlike remarks and girly giggle. The surprise was in the way he enjoyed her innocence, her naivety. How he enjoyed her innocence even though he could never begin to understand it. He had never been blind as she was and it fascinated him that a person could have such steadfast belief in a world he had written off years ago. It amazed him that people weren't completely jaded (as he himself was) after all. So, one day, as the sun set on the horizon, he leaned over and kissed her. And there were sparks flying and birds singing and bells ringing only none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was his lips on hers.

She was blissful and he was happy, as happy as a Slytherin could be. They still sat by the lake, his head resting on her lap, his lips trying hard not to smile at her dumb remarks. And everything changed, her trading in their witty banter for kisses taken in stolen moments and affection hidden away from light. Him, finally trying to be human, be less cruel, except always finding he could never be anything but. Always finding that the harder he tried to change for this beautiful child the more his true nature intensified and shined. The more he tried the colder he became.

When they weren't kissing they would talk for hours and hours. She would question him about everything because he's a year older, but so many more in reality, and she was still young. She asked him about the stars and about death and about slytherin because she always was curious about that house. Mostly she talked about love with him because she was a girl with stars in her eyes and blindness in her every step and when she was around him love was all she could think of.

He loved to humor her, listen to her view on things. He liked to watch her smile and laugh when he started spouting some of his cynical theories, which she found extremely ludicrous, even though they were not. And he would lean close and kiss her softly on the lips. Only not so softly because he always wanted more than she would give and she always resisted saying she wanted to take it slow, even though she didn't. And then, the dinner bell would ring and she would pick the leaves out of her hair. He would lean in and whisper goodbye in her ear calling her Weasley, but really, what else should a Malfoy be expected to call her?

And their love was like that, innocent, pure, only not so because he wasn't so innocent, wasn't so pure. But she loved him and saw only him. She was all secrecy during the days of their affair. She always had that smile of a girl in love on her face yet no one close to her could ever figure out what brought it there. When they inquired her should would just smile mysteriously and say "Isn't there always a guy?" No one was ever happy with her ambiguity.

She was happy and he was happy, for a while. And I wish I could tell you that this is how it ended. I wish I could tell you that like most fairytales this one ended with the love struck girl who innocently gave the boy her heart happily knowing that the unconditional way she gave into him didn't come back to haunt her. I wish it ended with her dreaming of their future as she smiled slyly to her friends. That it ended when she was still all he saw, all he could see. But then you know I would be lying.

Life is fickle and love is fickle and real life is nothing like the fairy tale you wish it could be. You see, the mysterious, bad boy did what most mysterious bad boys do: he broke the girl's heart. He was cold and distant and one day when his anger toward her became too much he snapped her heart in two. She looked into his cold, silver eyes, trying to see if he loves her, and saw nothing, nothing where she once saw the world. And because memories of her were still alive in his heart, and because in a way he did care for her, he dried her tears and told her that he really did love her. Only that he didn't and never really did.

The next day her eyes were all red and puffy and she never stopped wondering "what if..." and "what happened?" And he sat at his table flirting with Pansy and Millicent, laughing at the jokes Crabbe and Goyle made, but really, what else would a Malfoy do? She sat alone, crying silently with no one to help her since he took her heart in secret and shattered it with the same secrecy.

Yet, she was still the princess and he was still her Prince. She still pined away for him before tiring of the pain constantly eating at her and the tears she was amazed she could still cry and she resolved to get over him. She woke up one day, annoyed at her tearstained face, and told herself to be strong, only she wasn't and never really was. She told herself to not be such a child, only that was all she ever was.

Despite her better judgment, she still spent her days staring at him and still dreamt of his strong arms around her with his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. She still remembered looking at him and seeing the love shining through his eyes, but really, what else is a heartbroken girl expected to do?

And this is the end. The end of the story, of the fairy tale, and of their love. I wish I could tell you it ends happily. That he realizes what a mistake he made. That one day he realizes she's all he ever needed, ever wanted. That he falls to his knees before her begging her to have him back because letting her go was the biggest mistake he had ever made. That the sweet, innocent girl gets the happily ever after she deserves and desires. Only, I can't because he's a Malfoy and she's a Weasley and it just doesn't fit and it never truly did. Each live in a different world, a different dimension. It's like he's Romeo and she's Juliet. Only he's no Romeo, who gave up everything in the name of love, and she's no Juliet, who withstood all obstacles for love, and neither died so they could love each other for eternity. Although sometimes she wishes they did.

End

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