Infatuation Potion
By Blossom Morphine
Blossommorphine@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. It is a product of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. But you already knew that didn't you?
Cold gray eyes looked out the window of the dormitory to the grounds below. They belonged to a face that was now frowning at the setting sun. It had been hours since Draco Malfoy had seen his beloved Hermione. What?! No, his accursed mudblood obsession. Tat is what she was. She was nothing more than a filthy mudblood. But why this ache? It started when he caught sight of Hermone after Potions. She looked so heart broken. One part of him snickered gleefully at such a pathetic display. Another, though, started to cry out at the pain so easily seen on her face. This potion was starting to take his toll on him. If this kept up, he might do something silly like buying her roses and chocolates. He shuddered. That was something one should not have to go through. Well, at least that took care of both that filthy Mudblood Granger and pathetic prat Parkinson. Ah, yes, indeed. It was getting rahter annoying with the both of them expecting confessions of affection and that sort of thing. But if he had to choose, he would pick Hermione as the most entertaining. She was a spitfire and the way she constantly defied him was rather appealing. Hmm, if he didn't know any better, he would definitely say that he was in love with her. Ludicrous of course. He, Draco, would never succumb to such emotional.
A forlorn Hermione Granger sniffed as she tried to do her History of Magic essay on the goblin rebellion of 1512. It was rather difficult when her tears kept smudging up the ink. Curse him! Why did this have to happen? And Draco, no, Malfoy, of all people? He truly was a cold-hearted fiend. Well, hopefully, the giant squid in the lake would eat him. That would teach him a lesson. But it would not decrease the pain of hearing him ask Pansy out-and right in front of her, nonetheless! -On a date to the next Hogsmeade visit. Fine, he wanted to play that way. She refused to appear weak before him. On the next visit, she would show that she did not need him. That would surely show him. As a plan began forming her mind, she felt the slightest twinge of guilt on who the plan involved. But it dissolved as quickly as her tears did on the parchment below.