It's been a while since I wrote any DMHG isn't it? Hope this one will satisfy you readers who have been waiting out there.
It's a bit different from my usual DMHG, not the usual humour. The mood is kind of light, but the story has more subtle hints and layers in it. Vaguish romance, a bit poetic, but perhaps more emphasis on the feelings in kind-of-unobvious way.
Here it is.
Out of all the days of the week, he liked Mondays the best.
Thank god today is a Monday, Draco Malfoy thought, strolling calmly to his first class as the bell rang. Students around him whizzed about frantically in all directions. All, but him. He continued walking at a leisurely pace, trying to recall why he hated the other days so much.
He disliked most of the days of a week. Tuesdays always seemed to be far longer than he would like it too,and time on that day seems to drag on and on. He swore that somehow all the clocks were bewitched (probably by Dumbledore, ever the practical joker)on Tuesdays to go extra slowly, because lessons last longer then he would like it too. A lot longer.
Wednesdays weren't any better, in his opinion, simply because it was the middle of the week, and his Charms professor usually made him write four foot essays on Wednesdays. Yes, that's why he hate Wednesdays. Those stupid essays. He couldn't write a decent one to save his life.
Draco climbed up a flight of stairs towards the History of Magic corridor, his steps light and easy. He whistled pleasantly on his way up, for today was a Monday, and for some strange reason it made him feel lighthearted and happy. Along the way to class he heard two sleepy second-year students, both whom probably just rolled out of bed (judging by their dishevelled looks), moaning and groaning about how "it was a Monday" .
He was puzzled. How could anyone hate Mondays so much?
After all, Thursdays were so much worse.
Thursday was another day he simply detested. Everything always goes wrong for him on Thursdays. In the morning they always served kippers for breakfast. He hated them, and the mere sight of it cause him to wrinkle his nose. Just the faintest whiff of those bloody kippers put him into a foul mood for the rest of the day. To make the day worse, he had double Transfigurations with the Gryffindors, and his partner just had to be Harry Potter. The two of them would hurl insults at one another, hex one another, and somehow manage to transfigure themselves to pink teapots. This would then result in a few hours of screaming by MacGonagall, saying how ashamed she was of their repulsive behaviour.
Which was a reason why he hated Fridays He usually had to serve detention at nights for whatever hex he threw on Potter the day before.
Passing by a rather large, shut window in a corridor, he felt himself instinctively stop skipping. The rhythm of his feet paused before starting again, heading decidedly towards the said window, as if he was drawn to it. Draco unlocked it with a click, hoping to let the gentle breeze enter the castle.
A blast of cool, crisp air greeted him, and he stood there for a moment, refreshed from the sudden gush of the delightful wind. Fresh air always made him agreeable.
Draco leaned against the window sill, enjoying the scenery of Hogwarts, his robes billowing slightly from the wind. He turned to stare at the seemingly endless fields of evergreen grass ahead, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of freedom. The birds twittered merrily in the background, and the carefree and relaxed atmosphere began to overcome him.
He closed his eyes for a second and wished he had his broom with him, for the weather was just so perfect to fly in.
This was why Monday was so nice.
He shifted his gaze to back to the Hogwarts ground, where he could hear faint chatters dying away. He could see the warm bright sunshine dancing about, and the lake sparkling so invitingly that he had a sudden impulse to take a dip. Several leaves floating in the cool breeze, as if waving to him cheerily. He sighed, and stared dreamily at the different students on the grounds with his gaze , perhaps, lingering on some faces more than others. A certain bushy hair girl he spotted suddenly reminded him that he had lessons, and he better be off soon.
Saturdays were probably most of the student's favourite days, for it meant no lessons. Draco usually would enjoy it too, but somehow he was no longer attracted to go to Hogsmeade anymore, for it was dull. Whats more, the seventh year's now had a great deal of homework and assignments to do, so he preferred to remain within the comforts of the school library, devoting a lot of his time to looking up complicated spell works. But it was a weekend after all, so it was hardly surprising that he lost his concentration easily. Every so often, he would look up from his books, distracted by a familiar laughter or to merely glance at a student half-hidden beneath a stack of books.
Sundays were probably the only day he was free in a week. Most of the time his friends would all hang out and start chattering, and sometimes Draco enjoyed their company. Yet, he would usually grow sick of the their gossips, and their loud voices usually gave him a headache. He was a quiet person by nature, so he didn't particularly appreciate the noise pollution they were creating. Instead, in the rare chance he could escape from them, he preferred to read a book silently by the Great Lake, uninterrupted by all apart from the " A homework a day keeps the professors at bay" chant coming from some student's very loud homework diary nearby.
With a quick look at his watch on his left wrist, Draco realised with a jolt that lessons were starting already, and if he didn't get there on time, he may not get a good seat. Pacing himself slightly faster, he began to make haste to his classroom, the subject of Monday still fresh in his mind.
Nothing ever went wrong on Mondays. His toothpaste would taste extra minty and breakfast, particularly the bacon, would taste really good. It never rained, and the weather would always be so perfect. He never did have detentions on that day, nor did he had Harry Potter as his class partner.
It wasn't only that. Monday was the beginning of a week. To Draco, it represent a fresh start. A new beginning. The first page of the next chapter. It didn't matter if the past week was bad or terrible because it would be a new week now.
Draco swung open the History of Magic classroom door, and with a quick sneak at the clock, was pleased to realised that he was just on time. Like he said, nothing ever went wrong on Mondays.
Professor Binns was still using his chalk to scribble a few lines on the blackboard. He smiled. This was the lesson he liked best, just like the way he liked Mondays.
He quickly moved to the desk, resuming his usual seat. Draco always sat in the same seat and position in this lessson. It was two seats back from the front row, four seats away from the door. He liked this seat, and always managed to snag it in time before other people.
The best day of the week, because this was his favourite seat.
Lesson proceed, and Professor Binns droned on and on, but Draco was not listening. Nobody ever did. Nobody, probably, with the exception of one person-- the real reason why he really liked Mondays.
She was the only one that was paying attention in the class. While the rest of the class grew restless, only she was still listening intently, jotting down notes. Draco watched with interest, as the girl gently dipped her quill in her ink, and wrote down whatever Professor Binn said in neat, tiny handwriting. At parts she absently twilled her quill, presumably because Binns was explaining something in detail that wasn't important. Draco didn't actually know, because he was too busy looking at the girl.
This particular girl had bushy hair, not unlike the one he saw a few moments ago.
She always sat in the front row, four seats away from the door. She always chose that seat, and that's why Draco liked his seat best, because it was only one seat in front of him. Unlike him though, she sat there because she wanted to listen to the lesson, she wanted to pay attention.
She was intense, smart and hardworking, someone who spends her weekend doing her homework. So many times had he saw her in the library, bent over some very large book, almost hidden from view by the very huge stack of books that piled on top of the table. She was the only one Draco ever saw that could laugh while studying.
The good thing about this lesson, was that no one ever noticed what he did during History of Magic. Everyone else was half asleep. The girl, the very girl who had bushy hair and worked in the library, didn't notice him staring at her either. She was too absorbed in writing her notes, to notice that the boy, the boy who sat two seats back from the front row, four seats away from the door, who went to library to work on Saturdays, was looking at her.
He liked doing that, looking at her.
Monday was his favourite day. He gets to see her sit there and read her notes. He can see her eyebrows furrow and her features scrunched up as she tries to memorize certain facts. It was the only time Draco can watch her in peace without anyone detecting what he was doing. He can hear her diary chanting "A homework a day keeps the professors at bay" every time she open that blasted book. He liked the fact that he can see her up close, not from far.
He liked to see the girl who had brown bushy hair and sat in the front row, four seats away from the door, who works in the library during weekends and had a talking homework diary and tiny neat handwriting. He liked to see her, Hermione Granger.
Of course, he would never tell anyone that.
All good things must come to an end, unfortunately for Draco. Sixty minutes after he settled into his seat, Hermione Granger slowly kept her quills and closed her notebook, and placed it into her bag. With a swish and not a single glance at anyone, the girl left the room, never noticing Draco staring at her silhouette.
Draco sighed. Now he had to wait for the next Monday.
Perhaps one day he would have the courage to sit beside her. Maybe talked to her, or even say hi. Perhaps next time he would even give her a quick smile, or ask her what the answer for question seventeen was. Maybe even tell her he liked her.
But for now, he was contented to sit behind her and admire the girl in his own private way.
Stuffing his own books into his bag, Draco noticed several changes that always seem to happen after this lesson. The sky outside now seem gloomy, and the wind was no longer gentle and cool, but howling and chilling. His bag seemed heavier, and suddenly he could feel the bad taste of bacon in his mouth.
Strange. He hated bacon.
you go. The story. I hope you guys like it. I know it's abit different from my DMHG style, but I thought it would be cool to do something like this. And you do understand the last line right?
REVIEW!