A/N: Hey guys! I'm back again! I got only two reviews the last time and therefore, have to ask you guys to review when you read the fics of this site! Hahaha…I got a couple of people adding this story to their update list and all, but only two of you reviewed! Thanks to those who reviewed; as for the rest, please review to tell me what you think of my story because I'm sure you do have an opinion of my updates and I really want to know them! Thanks! Off to the chapter!
11th September 2007
2.30pm
In The Common Room Of The Headboy and Headgirl
Draco sat ramrod straight on his bed, his mind reeling with the few words his godfather had imprinted on his mind. Then I suggest you make a move on her already, Draco. It has been all he could think of the entire day. Make a move on her. It kept playing over and over in his mind. Draco shook his head angrily, trying to clear the words out of his mind, but it wouldn't work. A move. I suggest you make a move on her. "Sure, I could. It's not as easy as it sounds, is it?" he thought bitterly.
That girl has a certain effect on you. She did and he did not like it. He had been so sure that it was just because she was too bossy for him not to obey. But Snape had just cast a completely different idea into his head. Draco was confused.Certain effect on you. What was that certain effect he was talking about? Draco punched his pillows as if they would burst open and spill the answers to his question. In all his miserable life, Draco had never been confused before. Afraid? Sure. Angry? Definitely. But never confused. Effect on you. Draco shook his head. Noone had an effect on him. He might have been forced to do things against his own will, but that never left an imprint such a this.
Draco clutched his head and closed his eyes shut tightly, hoping to picture a darkness-a darkness that allowed him to think. Draco had always been one to shut the world out when he wanted to think. He would focus only on darkness, for the emptiness was the solitude he needed to think. However, on just this particular day, as he squeezed his eyes shut to enjoy the darkness he had always been able to, a little figure shone through his darkness. It cut his darkness apart, casting it away. Disturbed from his only source of peace, Draco squeezed his eyes shut even harder, bent on diminishing the source of brightness. However, if that was what he wanted, it was precisely the opposite that was happening.
The harder he squeezed his eyes, the clearer the picture was becoming. And as it became clearer, Draco stopped willing it to fade away. He knew this form. It was his Hermione-wait, when did he start thinking of her as his? Ceasing to ponder on this trivial matter, he continued to focus on the picture in his head. He could feel something-he did not know what it was. It was a whole new feeling that he had never experienced before. Was this what they called love? Or was it a mere infatuation? Draco had no idea, but he was planning to find out. How though?