Draco stared longingly at the pale green apple Potter held in his hand. It appealed to Draco so much – the smooth, shiny skin that glistened in the light of the Great Hall, the soft curves of the apple that made it so easy to clutch, the long stem that towered over its green body, and the small bruise right on the center of the apple. Yes, Draco Malfoy was in love with the apple.
He pretended to listen to whatever nonsense Pansy was whining about, but he kept checking to see if his love was okay. And every time it remained untouched in Potter's hands. He knew his love would not be accepted by his friends or family. He was to marry a pureblood witch and raise a single child that would become the next Malfoy heir.
But Draco didn't want to get married. He didn't want to have to raise a kid. He wanted to spend all of his inheritance, which was quite a large sum of money, on green apples. Only then would he be truly happy. He could seclude himself from the world and never have to face their snide comments.
"Drakie poo," Pansy whined, "Are you even listening to me?"
"Of course, Pansy," he replied absentmindedly. He stopped staring at his apple for a brief moment to look at Pansy.
And that was when the unthinkable happened.
Draco could hear the loud crunch from halfway across the hall. He whipped his head around to see Potter loudly chewing a piece of his love. Draco watched painfully as Potter bit away at his apple, slowly devouring it piece by piece. Potter tossed the core of the apple carelessly onto his plate and left the hall with Weasley and Granger.
Draco stood abruptly up and rushed over to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the odd looks his was getting from the other Hogwarts students. He picked up the core of the apple and rushed out of the hall. He raced down to the Slytherin dormitories, trying to fight back the tears that were beginning to blur his vision. He collapsed onto his bed and let the tears fall freely from his eyes.
His love was dead. It would never be able to return to him. He never even found out its name. Draco pulled out an emerald studded box from under his bed and opened it up. He laid the core of the apple down softly onto the black silk and whispered, "Potter will pay for what he has done to you."
And that was why 11-year-old Draco Malfoy truly hated Harry Potter.
This is what happens when I have an insane case of writer's block. I'm laughing to myself that I actually wrote a Drapple fic, but who cares! Drapple is one of my favorite ships :)
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~thEcrEAtOr23