Here's another little one shot. Hope you enjoy. Reviews of the good kind or the constructive kind are much appreciated and keep me, and all authors, motivated. If you read a story, review it so the authors don't get discouraged!

Watching

He wasn't sure how long he had been watching her or why he was. He couldn't stop, though. If she had noticed by now, she hadn't said anything but he had caught her shooting him a strange look once or twice before. If anyone else noticed, they hadn't mentioned it either- for their own sake, no doubt. Pansy had once tugged pitifully on his arm and asked what he was looking at, distressed that it wasn't her, and he had angrily snapped at her that he was looking anywhere but at her face. She hadn't asked again.

The Malfoy and Weasley families did not mix, everyone knew that. He came from a family of wealth and aristocracy who believed in pure blood supremacy and were made for Slytherin house. The Weasley's were poor with a pitiful muggle loving reputation tarnishing their blood purity, they were the perfect example of what a Gryffindor was, with beliefs that clashed with that of the Malfoy family. They were polar opposites. And yet, he couldn't keep his eyes off of the youngest one.

She looked every bit a Weasley, with freckles dotting her skin, shabby books and the trademark ginger-red hair, thick and deep and hanging in loose curls around her shoulders as she spooned another pile of potatoes past her upturned cherry lips, smiling at something Potter had said.

He liked to convince himself that he only watched her so intently because she was Potter's beloved girlfriend, and he was looking for ways to make fun of her to frustrate his nemesis. But he knew that wasn't true, deep down. He'd watched her long before that. Something about her had caught his attention long ago and he couldn't shake her from his mind ever since, and regardless his mind hit an absolute blank at the thought of insulting anything about her. She was just so alive, in ways those who surrounded him certainly didn't seem to be, in ways that even Potter in all his heroic glory and confidence didn't seem to be.

Everybody else was so focused on the future, their lives already paved out for them, preparing for the war or picking sides. He himself had a destiny, a mission to be carried out, just as Potter did, a destiny neither of them could fight. Granger and Weasley would be by Potter's side the whole way, the mood of the entire school had changed within the past year. The elder students had returned more determined and reserved, seeming to have mentally aged ten years within one summer.

But not her.

She was still young, but so was he, so were the rest of them. He was only her elder by a year, but she had an innocent light to her. She went about her days as though everything was normal, living as a regular teenage girl. She laughed without holding back and her smiles reached her eyes, chocolate colored eyes that shined brightly when she was happy. Her emotions always showed so clearly on her face. She didn't mask her emotions; he had come to notice from watching her.

She'd gone walking alone on the grounds after her split with Dean Thomas, and he had clearly been able to make out her feelings with her expression. She had been dismayed, yet relieved. Then suddenly she had started dating Potter, and any hint of sadness that she had ever felt had disappeared for a short while, her expression seemed to be constantly happy, even when she was doing nothing but sitting in the library working on an essay.

She wasn't like the other girls. She'd had a decent number of boyfriends and garnered quite a bit of attention, but she didn't cling to such things. She never bothered flirting with the boys who didn't interest her and she never even played up her attractive features. Rarely had he seen her with styled hair or a made up face, or wearing clothes meant to show off her figure. She didn't seem to care for that sort of thing. She was happy as she was, and nobody else was complaining, either.

And she was a hell of a Quidditch player, Draco had noticed. She was brilliantly skilled and determination shone on her face when she played. He wouldn't have been surprised if she were to one day go on and play professionally.

He wasn't sure what drew him to keep watching her as he did. She was mesmerizing. The childlike light to her, the way she lived as if there was nothing to fear- it drew him to her. She had not a worry in the world while he felt as if he had the world on his shoulders. He felt like he was drowning in the expectations of him, while she simply lived, carefree and happy.

They were so very different; she was all that, if he were truly honest, he wished he could be. Watching her made him wish and want and long for things he had never and would never have. It made his deepest secrets surface to the front of his mind, the ones he would never verbalize, about his desire for Potter to be victorious so the dark days would finally end and he wouldn't have to live up to what was expected of him.

He would never approach her, could never approach her. She was a Weasley and furthermore, she was Potter's. Even if she wasn't, it wouldn't have mattered. He had a mission and a reputation to uphold. As badly as he wanted to act on his impulses, he knew better. Maybe one day, far into the future, when all was said and done he would see her out in Diagon Alley or something, he liked to muse. Maybe she would be split up with Potter and perhaps his family name would not disgust her, and they could talk and drink butterbeers and he could watch her, and be the one to make her eyes light up, and she could teach him how to really be alive in the ways she was. He liked to think about it, knowing it would never really happen, knowing he would always have to be content to simply watch her and enjoy her from afar.

I'll probably keep this as a one shot, but I'm not absolutely certain yet. Maybe I'll do a second part with Ginny's viewpoint. What do you think?