He was just around the corner, that boy I liked. He's tall, pale, and more than handsome. His hair is the whitest-blond in the world. And let's not forget the most important thing: He hates me with all of his being. And I'm supposed to hate him with all of mine, but let's face it, I just don't!
It was pointless liking him, because I know he'll never like me back. This being the last day of the 7th year at Hogwarts, I was going to do the last thing on my list and I can bet you all know what it's going to be. Let me tell you, your right.
"Hermione, why do you look so lovesick?" I was surprised Ron, of all people, asked me this.
"Because I am." I answered dreamily.
"With who?" he asked.
"Whom." I corrected, "That boy around the corner."
Ron already knew I didn't like him like that, just as a brother and he liked someone else, so it was all good between us.
Ron peeked around the corner.
"Hermione, there's at least 20 boys in that hall." He said, a little whiny.
"I'll show you which one as long as you promise not to get mad." I said. He still got really protective every time a boy asked me out.
"Hermione, I promise I won't get mad. Even if it's You-Know-Who." Ron sighed. I looked up in surprise.
"I thought he was dead."
"So did I. I do remember killing him." Said Harry, appearing from nowhere with Ginny by his side.
"Do it already, Hermione." Said Ginny. "The train is going to be here soon and we'll have to leave."
"Okay, okay. I'm going." I said, pushing my back off the wall. I blew out a deep breath. "Here goes nothing." I turned the corner and looked for the man of my dreams.
I spotted him, his blond hair sticking out of the crowd like a rose among the weeds. (No offense to any of the other guys) I walked forward.
"Malfoy, we have one last matter to discuss." I said.
Malfoy turned from Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.
"And what's that, mudblood?" he drawled.
Perfect. Exactly what I wanted him to say.
I grabbed a fistful of his sweater, we didn't have to wear robes on the last day, and pulled his face close to mine, remembering to look angry.
"What did you call me?" I hissed. His beautiful silver eyes were stormy. The ever present smirk on his face.
"What I always call you. Mudblood." He smirked down at me.
"Do you mind if I wipe that smirk off your face?" I asked.
"I'd like to see you try." He growled back softly.
"Be prepared," I leaned closer to his face. "For this." And then I pushed my lips against his.
I heard a shriek from Parkinson and gasps from all the other people around. I thought he would pull away, or something. But instead, I felt his arms come around my waist. I snuck my free hand up around his neck, playing with the curls of hair, keeping my other hand holding onto his shirt.
Finally we both pulled away, sucking in for air.
He stared down into my face and I began to pull away.
"Wait," he said and I stopped and looked up at his confused face. "What did you need to discuss?" he asked.
Men can be so dense.
"We just finished discussing it, I believe." I answered, pulling away firmly from his grasp.
"But why'd you do it?" he asked.
"Because I-wait, why'd you kiss me back?" I demanded.
"I would think the reason obvious." A light smile let his face.
"Which is?" I asked.
"You kissed me first." He pointed out.
"Well, I kissed you because it's been on my to-do list for a good year." I explained.
"And who put it there?" the smirk was coming back onto his face.
"I did!" I snapped. "Do I have to get rid of that smirk again?"
"Don't mind if you do." He said, the smirk growing wider. I heard a loud gasp from Parkinson.
I frowned. "What about me being a mudblood?"
"I won't ever call you that again?" he said, his eyes now turning into puppy eyes and the smirk dropping off his face.
"Your not smirking now, there's no point. Besides, I don't think Parkinson would like that. And it's not on my to-do list anymore." I said.
"Can I see your to-do list?" Malfoy asked.
I hesitantly pulled it from my pocket and handed it to him.
Malfoy took it, looked it over, pulled a quill from his pocket, wrote something, and handed it back to me.
I read the last thing I had written 'Kiss Draco Malfoy'. It was neatly crossed out. But underneath it read: 'Always kiss Draco Malfoy when he smirks'.
I looked up at Malfoy, and sure enough, sitting on his beautiful, pale face was a big smirk.
"The things you make me do, Malfoy. I said, smiling. The list fell to the floor as I once again took hold of his sweater.
Just a fluffy oneshot that made it's way into my mind.
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