A.N. Alrighty, time to start my new fanfiction: Basketful of Fruit! Yay! And for the people who are frustrated with me for not updating fast enough, it's only ever going to be a series of one-shots, so you can't blame me for not updating the next part now! Ha! Okay, now that that's out of the way, here's the serious thing (you can probably skip it. . . .):

P.S. I know the style of the writing is weird (present tense) and also is confusing, but stay with me!

(Serious stuff:)

This is a series of D/Hr drabbles based on fruit and/or incorporate fruit in some way. Fruit vary from colour to taste to touch. So do fanfictions.

These drabbles/one-shots are about the pairing Draco/Hermione. If you do not like to read this pairing, please click on the back button and select another fanfiction to read. Thank you.

Also please note that these fanfictions are not by any way related to each other, unless they have a Part I and Part II.

For the disclaimer, please visit my profile.

Enjoy! (Don't forget to READ AND REVIEW!)

OoOoO

(Drabble)

You may ask how this unlikely couple ever got together, and here's the story behind it:

Peaches

Well, you see, at first he hates her. He hates everything about her; her clothes, her friends, her style, even her quills and the ink she uses! He insults her in the most vulgar, awful, demeaning ways, trying to bring her down.

But then, after a while, he begins to secretly admire her from afar. Strictly on a professional level, of course, but it was small things like her posture; her grace and poise; the fact that she excels at everything she does and always tries her hardest at everything she does. They were things everyone could admire, he thinks.

But, after a while, he begins to look at her differently. On a personal level. There were things like how her hair was always so curly and untamed, and how soft it looked; the fact that she always has a book tucked away somewhere so that she can read everywhere she goes; the fact that she never looks at the negatives and always seems so happy and cheerful whenever he looks at her. But hey, he thinks, everyone needs a good attitude, right?

Then, somewhere along the line, it blurred and he began to seek out her quirks and individual details that makes up her person. He notices how her nose is so small; how her hair is always lustrous and glossy; that her brown eyes always seem so warm and inviting compared to his cold, silver ones.

Her teeth, he thinks, always stick out because they're bigger when she smiles. And when he thinks of her smile and it always seems to fill him with warmth, spreading until it even reached his smallest toe, but with her laugh, he thought, was even better than that feeling of warmth. It sounded like magic.

After that brief moment, he realizes something. He is in love with her.

He not only loves the good about her, but also the bad. He loves the way she's always upset when someone beats her on a test; the fact that she's easily aroused into an argument and that she's stubborn and will do anything to prove her point to someone; and that once she's dead-set on something, nothing will ever change her mind.

He realizes that, and it scares him.

It scares him because he has always been able to keep control of his emotions of the other gender and yet when it came to this girl, his mind goes blank every time. Scared because he knows his father will never approve of a Pureblood and a Muggle-born together. Scared because he has never felt this way before and the feeling overwhelms him.

So, instead of facing his fears, he runs away from them. Out of sight, out of mind.

But still, in the deepest hours, in the coldest nights, he thinks of her once again, and that same warmth spreads through him once again and all of his goals and fears are forgotten.

All he cares about is her.

Afterwards, he then thinks back to the time when he hated her and weeps for the time lost because he knows now that the chance to make amends is gone, and now all he has left of her is his memories of her laugh, the cold marble of her tombstone, and the faint, lingering scent of peaches on his pillow.