.Looking at you.
"You don't know what you do to me, you don't have a clue. You can't tell what it's like to be me-looking at you."
Some say it's the beginning that matters the most. Others think that the end is what makes the story. But what I believe is that it is the content of the story that makes it a legend. I'm not saying that our love is a legend or a story that will last forever like that of Juliet and her Romeo. I am only saying that the story of how we came to be will be cherished forever in my heart. The story: not the ending or the beginning, but the small, insignificant details like the first kiss or the moment when I said I love you, that my heart chooses never to forget.
Hermione inhaled a deep breath as she lowered her quill to the desk. She was finished. Checking for her name at the top of the test, she rose to her feet. This exam would be the one to finally show Snape that he couldn't make one she couldn't pass with an A. After listening to his this-is-your-punishment speech about how it will be the hardest one ever, she hoped he graded hers first!
Hermione's smile was quickly wiped from her face when she felt her foot snag on something. She fell forward, her test slipping from her hands as she brought them down to stop her dissent. She felt strong arms wrap around her waist, causing her head to snap back at the sudden stop.
Hermione gasped as she was pulled to her feet into a strong chest. She moved away from the person as a blush crept across her face. Everyone in the class was staring at her. She knelt to pick up her test. As she rose to thank her 'rescuer,' she noticed the Slytherin tie first. Her heart quickly sped up, blonde hair, arrogant smirk and grey eyes: Draco Malfoy.
Hermione sputtered, her thank you getting caught in her throat.
"Don't worry about it Gryffindor," Malfoy pushed past her, walking up to the desk to hand in his test to Professor Snape.
Hermione followed him, her head hanging.
Pride. Honor. Cunning. Heart and mind. Draco thought over the qualities that his father said made him a Slytherin. That made him a Malfoy.
The wind blew softly, causing the leaves above him to rustle. He was leaning against a tree down by the lake. The black outfit he had donned that morning, with its long sleeves and pants, was too hot for the August heat. But, he glanced to the side, away from the black hawk perched on his bent knee; he didn't want to show off his 'love marks' from the summer.
Over the summer, his father had beat into him the qualities that made him who he was with a whip and a practiced punch. He worked Draco harder in those two and a half months than he had ever worked before. He had the bruises, cuts and muscles to prove it.
And Draco was no longer scared. Of death. Of Voldemort. Of Harry Potter.
All seemed pathetic to fear now.
A twig snapped and his narrowed eyes darted to the figure standing no more than seven feet away from him. How had he let her come so close?
Hermione was dressed casually, in blue jeans and a pink shirt with decorative scrawling words in purple that Draco couldn't make out. She stepped towards him, slowly as if waiting for the verbal onslaught.
Draco wasn't in the mood. "What do you want?" he whispered, turning back to his bird.
"I wanted to thank you," she said as she lowered herself next to him.
"I told you not to worry about it." He lowered his knee and the bird took off in flight.
Hermione shrugged. "I know, but for you it was an incredibly nice thing to do." She glanced over at him and realized: this was Draco Malfoy she was having a civilized conversation with.
Draco rose to his feet, casting her a brief glance. "Don't get used to it." Then, he walked away.
Before Hermione ever had a chance to say something about the heat and his preference in clothes.
To even pretend that I can ever be over you is insane, when every time I see you with
someone else… I think of how you used to look at me like that. With your caresses and wonderful eyes, I'm reminded… I used to hold your heart.
Hermione set down the book, moving towards the window. The stars were dropping into the night sky like chandeliers lowered into a dark room. Beautiful diamonds sparkling.
She stared at those stars… and only one thought popped into her head. Not one of the upcoming tests or of the latest book she's been reading, not even memories of Ron and Harry, she was thinking of Draco.
The stars reminded her of his eyes. She laughed quietly at the thought. Here she was, Gryffindor pride (deemed the 'cleverest witch of her age' by many) what would they say if they knew she was sitting in her room dreaming of Malfoy: Slytherin prince and future deatheater?
They would laugh.
And say, "You don't even have chance, Hermione. You're not even on his level. Besides, he likes his women with bigger boobs and less brain." Hermione mimicked their high-pitched voices.
With a sigh, she fell into her bed and deep asleep not even aware that somewhere in the castles a blonde haired boy was thinking of her too.
Hermione had to say that potions class the next day consisted of furtive glances and blushes if caught. She was a wreck. He caused her to become a mess. Snape called on her two times and she had no idea what the question had been.
He caused her detention.
But it was worth it. After all, he did look great today. Black was always his color and the green in his tie matched his grey eyes. Beautiful, she thought at least three times during the class.
Even looking at him filled her with something she had never known before. A rush of happiness, of pure excitement and at same time terror of being rejected, pushed away and mistreated. This is Malfoy we're talking about.
Her rush of excitement was blown away by the ringing of the bell. Draco made his exit fast, leaving her to gather her books.
When she picked the up and said goodbye to Harry and Ron as they went towards Divination, she heard, "Hey Gryffindor."
Gasp! Hermione's heart literally stopped as she turned around to face the sixteen year old boy. How could he scare her so badly at such a young age?
"Dr- Malfoy," Hermione muttered. "What do you want?"
"Oh, don't play coy with me, Granger. I saw you watching me in class." He stepped towards her. He became someone else entirely. Not the lost boy she had seen sitting by the tree, but a predator, someone to fear.
"Why would I be watching you, Malfoy? Especially when I think you are a immature-"
He didn't let her finish before stepping towards her and catching her lips in a kiss. It was wonderful. He was gentle at first, fingertips lightly fluttering at her side like an unsure butterfly. His fingers dug into her sides, crushing her into him. His kiss became needy, rough.
He let her go so suddenly she nearly stumbled. Catching herself, she said annoyed that he had made her so light-headed, "What do you think you are doing? How dare you-"
"Goodbye, Granger," he said in his usual drawl, brushing past her and down the hallway.
When he was out of sight, Hermione lifting her fingers to her lips, a light smile played across her face.
She could definitely say that this Gryffindor was falling fast.
Author's note: It's been a few months since I have written a Harry P. story. So, here it is. Hopefully, it still good.
I don't own Harry Potter, J.K Rowling owns him and characters associated.