This is just a very short preview chapter. This WILL be a short story, but the rest of it won't be as short as this chapter, I promise.
A Dance (of Desire) with my Enemy
Desire was a curious thing. To desire something meant that a person yearned for something or someone, craved a certain something… needed… wanted… something or someone with a want so severe that not to have 'it' caused the person physical and mental pain.
Draco Malfoy knew 'desire'. He felt desire in many ways. He desired to be rich. He desired to be famous. He desired to be popular. He desired many, many things. One might even say that he desired the person he was looking at across the room, but then again, desire often was wrapped up tightly with other emotions such as jealousy and envy.
As he pondered these thoughts he continued to watch a man from across the crowded ballroom and he became so angry that he clutched his hands into tight fists at his sides. The stupid fool looked so happy dancing with the woman that Draco should be marrying. It wasn't fair, but then again, so few things in life were fair.
Was it fair that Harry Potter was practically crowned the hero of their world while Draco's family was vilified? Was it fair that this man, nothing but a common half-blood, had more money and fame than Draco ever dreamed of having? Was it fair that the woman to whom Draco had been betrothed to since infancy had decided that since the end of the war she was throwing old traditions to the wind, and in doing so, she set her cap on the Saviour of their world, and now THEY were dancing at THEIR betrothal ball, while Draco was left in the corner licking his proverbial wounds?
No. None of it was fair.
Draco had wealth, undeniable good looks and pureblood, yet he longed to trade places with a bastard like Harry Potter.
He hated Harry Potter. He always had and always would. True, he was glad that the stupid prat had vanquished the dark lord – that much was evident – but he would never show the bastard gratitude or thanks. He would never be grateful to the dim-witted git.
And it wasn't only Astoria Greengrass (aka Draco's former fiancée) who seemed enamored with 'the boy who lived whom Draco wished would die'. Even the man's best friend, the bane of Draco's existence, Hermione 'the mudblood' Granger had to look upon the man with love and devotion in her big brown eyes.
While Astoria went off to dance the next dance with the vermin Ron Weasley, Harry Potter took Hermione Granger's hand in his and pulled her out to the floor for the quadrille.
When Hermione Granger first entered the ballroom Draco noticed her right away. He always did. It seemed as if the air in a room changed the moment she entered it. It grew heavier, fraught with something Draco was hard pressed to name. She was the sort of woman whom everyone noticed, not just Draco. For one thing she was curvaceous in all the right places. Lovely full breasts, gently sloped hips, tiny waist. And when she smiled it was as if she was relaying a secret of some sort – a secret full of sensuous intensity. His body thrummed tightly watching her smile that secret smile at the man he hated the most.
And suddenly he thought: I want that.
He wanted her to smile at him the way she was smiling at Potter. He wanted her to throw back her head and laugh at the things he said. He wanted to hold her in his arms, feel her lush body next to his, and never let go.
The thought almost knocked Draco over instantly. He desired her. He wanted her badly. Here he thought he desired everything Harry Potter had, but in reality he desired so very much more. He desired her… his enemy.
For she was his enemy, just as surely as Potter was, merely because she was someone important to Potter. She was his best friend, so by association she was Draco's enemy. As that thought bounced around his brain he began to smile. Wouldn't it be sweet to best Potter? Wouldn't it be brilliant to have something that Potter would never have? Wouldn't it be the biggest coupe to make his enemy's best friend fall in love with him – and then throw her over?
He would make her fall in love with him. He would make her desire him, want him, need him, and then when the moment was right he would toss her to the curb along with all the other rubbish and debris.
Draco could only image how angry and upset Potter would be then! The smile would slip right off the bastard's face. Revenge would be so sweet. It would be better than desire. With revenge, Draco could finally win.
And so it began.