Impress Her with Stolen Little Moments

He sometimes thought of himself as a romantic. Not often. But enough that he would dream of doing something that would make her swoon like a heroine straight out of a penny novel. Sometimes he would dream, sometimes he would do.

Do:

She was studying for a Charms test that was four months away (she had badgered Flitwick until he gave her his syllabus for the next two years). To most people, she would not be attractive at that moment. Her hair, haphazardly done up in a bun, with most pieces out of the arrangement instead of in it. Her face, horridly scrunched up, as she memorized incantation after incantation. Her incessant mumbling of Latin words and instructions. That was not what society considered eye-catching.

But to him, she was Aphrodite. A goddess in a school uniform. Ethereal, gorgeous, all the other pansy-like words he could think of –she was. And while he was in this poetic state of mind, he might as well do something pansy-like. He pointed his wand towards her, and whispered, "Pulchros Orchideous."

She didn't notice it floating towards her, like the rest of the library did. She didn't hear the frantic whispering stop, and then after a few heartbeats, start again. She didn't see all the shocked faces or feel the wonder of those students. She did, however, sense the object tapping lightly on the top of her head. She ignored it at first, because her studies were infinitely more important. But it didn't go away. She glanced up in annoyance, and gasped.

There before her were the most lovely orchids she had ever seen, wrapped together with a silky ribbon. A note was tucked into the stems, and she pulled it out with shaky hands. It read:

An orchid is both stunning and rare, but your beauty transcends an entire bouquet of them.

She was shocked, flattered, and suspected she was blushing mightily. She packed up her things, gingerly took the spray of flowers, and left the library to go find Ron. She would show him how wrong he was when he said only a troll would find her nice-looking. Like trolls knew what orchids were.

He smiled to himself. Her eyes, shining with happiness, made up for all the moments of masculine insecurity he would have from this event.

Dream:

She was chopping up valerian roots for her Draught of Living Death. Her face was deep set in concentration, making sure each slice was exactly three-fifths of a centimeter. She carefully raised her knife and cut the root parallel to the edge of her table. She was methodical. She was precise.

He found it fascinating. He daydreamed about her while he stirred his own potion.

She was chopping up valerian roots for her Draught of Living Death. Her face was deep set in concentration, making sure each slice was exactly three-fifths of a centimeter. She was so caught up in being precise she didn't notice cutting her own finger. And then the sharp sting hit her. She gasped softly, and tried to Episkey it. And then remembered the knife she used in Potions was magic-proof, so therefore the cut was also. She cursed under her breath. If she got blood in her potion, she might as well kiss her perfect average goodbye. Her morbid thoughts occupied her, and she didn't see him approaching her.

He drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around her finger tenderly. She gazed up at him in gratitude, and perhaps a bit more. He drew a shaky breath, and leaned towards her. Their faces grew closer and closer and-

"Mr. Malfoy! Get your face away from your cauldron! If you breathe in too many fumes, you'll… faint. Oh, dear. Will someone kindly get Madame Pomfrey?"

He spent two weeks in the infirmary. Apparently, stirring the Draught thirty-seven times instead of seven made it infinitely more powerful. So powerful that inhaling it would cause the same effect as drinking it. And Slughorn had no Wiggenweld Potion on hand. Some Potions Master he was. He was put on probation for not properly supervising students and using his spare time unwisely.

But like Slughorn told Dumbledore, look on the bright side of it. At least they weren't brewing a Shrinking Solution.

That would've been a lot more paperwork.

A/N: According to The Language of Flowers, an orchid means love, beauty, refinement, you flatter me, or mature charm. I was kind of going for beauty.

Pulchros Orchideous roughly translated means beautiful flowers. Orchideous is a spell from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and Pulcher- is Latin for beautiful. Although I'm fairly certain I completely botched that grammar. Ah, well. Many thanks to MagicRoxSox for catching my "bellus" mistake! ;)

The Draught of Living Death is a potion that causes the drinker to go into a deep, death-like sleep. It can be remedied with the Wiggenweld Potion.