Title: When Love Goes Wrong

Author: Shinsei Kokoro

Chapter 1: Lovely Girl


She had been ready for everything all her life. Whether an exam, an assessment, running off on another adventure with Harry and Ron, or even stealing ingredients from Professor Snape's office. She could stay away reading a book for hours on end, remain tucked in a library corner inching through the restricted section for several days, concentrate steadily on stitching and sewing for lovely house-elves. She was organized. And she knew it. She lived on remaining prepared.

But this…this she wasn't ready for.

Winter Escapade Ball

Date: 11th December

Time: 6 pm – 2 am

Venue: Great Hall, HOGWARTS

IMPORTANT: Only senior students allowed. Must have partners. And attire appropriately to the dress code.

If it was anything, Hermione Granger did not do balls or dances. It was a preposterous idea! And stuffing herself in a gown was the last thing on her mind. Besides, she was sure to have put on a few pounds from last summer at the Burrows. And there was no way she was going to be dancing around with a bulging stomach while the rest of the girls had managed to remain trim and thin.

"Hermione! Give that book a rest will you?" Lavender's giggles rocketed across the room, allowing a little twitch to form above the brunette's brow. She was all but aware of the flying parchment that had been circling around the dorms and lecturing out the information of the ball in a mild sing-song voice.

"And do what? Fawn upon the idea of becoming a princess for one night? No thank you." the witch scoffed sarcastically before digging her nose just a little deeper into her book. After all, Adalbert Waffling's A Magical Theory had been through a tragedy to get into her hands. No way was she going to abandon her sole purpose for living and skip across the room like a mad girl on fire.

"Oh Hermoine." Ginny latched onto an arm, "Come on! You've got to be excited about this." The red-headed Weasley had run up into the dorm at just the arrival of the news. And by the enchanting glow on her face, Hermoine knew she was just as over the moon as the rest of the girls

"Actually, I'm not." Busily, Hermoine propped her elbow down on the bed, terribly wishing she had directly gone to the library after dinner and not come back to her room.

"I think that you are." A red-faced Parvati bounced down on the end of the bed, flipping her thick ebony hair over her shoulder, "And I also think that right now you're mentally coming up with ways to ask Ron out."

"I am not!" came the indignant snap, while at the same time came a protest from Lavender as well.

"I mean," Lavender cleared her throat hastily when eyes fell upon her, "Offcourse she's not thinking about that. She's…she's—reading a book!"

And while the rest of the girls didn't wipe their smiles off, Hermoine couldn't help but narrow her eyes at the girl. No matter what, she was obviously not thinking about Ron. Or even the ball for that matter. Instead she had been deeply engrossed about prohibited magical spells and their histories.

"So what colour do you think you might wear?" Ginny continued to prod at her back, "I think black is too tedious. And red was just worn by every other girl at the Yule Ball."

"I think I might wear a blue." Parvati leaned back onto the wall of the single bed.

"I saw a pale yellow one at Diagon Alley." Lavender pulled back her hair into a knot, "Hopefully I'll be able to get my hands on it before anyone else can."

Ginny, who didn't fail to notice the frustration building up in Hermoine 'accio'd A Magical History and didn't loose any time in darting across the room with her quick feet, "I personally think you should go for a beige Hermoine. You've already had your share of blue from last time."

"Ginny!" the Gryffindor prefect moaned from her bed as she gave way and plowed her head into her hands, "Give it back."

"Uh-uh." The red-head shook her finger like her mother usually did, "Not until after we have a full-fledged discussion about this. After all, we just have a week to prepare for it."

Groaning loudly, Hermoine pushed herself back on her behind, "Who cares! Besides, a week is a lifetime. And why can't this full-fledged discussion wait until tomorrow?"

"Because," Parvati sidled up beside her, "This weekend is Hogsmead," then Lavender piped in with an identical grin, "And next Saturday will not be enough time in scrounging for a gown."

"For Merlin's sake!" Hermoine threw back her curls from her face, "I'm not even going!"

"Oh yes you are!" the three girls chorused at once. And no matter how much she growled and tried to block out their shrill voices, Hermoine was sure she'd be dreaming of being dressed like the Fat Lady by the end of it. The Yule Ball had been the start and the end for her. It was a miracle that someone like Victor Krum had asked her out last time. But if he had been a little more nicer looking, he would have never looked twice at her.

Sighing, Hermoine attempted at catching little snippets of the conversation before she did manage to start coming up with ways to hint Ron at asking her out. And the faster she got a date, the less miserable she'd feel at the end of the week.


Draco wasn't having a pleasant day. Far from it. The sweets his Mother would regularly post were delayed. His owl had nipped him rather painfully. Morgana, the girl he had had his eyes set on recently had been seen coming out of Blaise Zabini's dorm. And his hair was growing at a snail's pace!

"Accio!" Draco Malfoy held out his arm before draping himself in his robes, then strode out of the room all the while neglecting a strong urge to look into the mirror once again.

When last week, his growing hair had reminded him so much of his prisoned father, he had innocently decided to get a little hair-cut. But it turned out, that it had been shorter than necessary and that hadn't faired well with the young Malfoy. So after Draco had cursed the barber to hell and back for not keeping track of his self-operating scissors, he had managed to slick back his hair the way he normally would.

But ever since Morgana had whispered into his lips about how incredibly irresistible he looked with his blond locks falling over his eyes, he had decided last night to keep it un-slicked for the ball.

"Malfoy." Draco just about jumped out his skin as a feminine voice purred into his ears. Whirling around, he clutched his wand to hex the girl who just made him feel like a fool, but the words never came as a pair of arms threw themselves tightly around him. It was Pansy he was expecting.

Morgana. Her eyes were so fiery that he didn't get a warning before she jumped to meet his lips in a rough messy kiss.

Draco stumbled just a little, then when he felt a wall behind him he realized he was causing eyes to turn his way then hastily look away. Morgana had already slid her fingers behind his neck, and so before she could deepen the kiss anymore he grabbed her shoulders to push her back.

"Hey! Wha—," Morgana scowled, but when she felt the prod of a wand at her stomach, she stopped short with bewilderment entering her eyes.

"I just washed my mouth." His snarl was low but just loud enough for her ears. And needless to say, he actually had fun in watching her blue eyes sit back to pout.

Pocketing his wand, he didn't look back at her as he turned the corner. Nor did he have the time to wait for his two sluggish lackeys as his hunger wasn't merciful. So as he made his way to the Great Hall, he decided would just let Pansy have her way with him and take her to this ridiculous ball instead. After all, it would be rather shameful to not attend.


Being the Head Girl was the opportunity of a lifetime, and yet there were some times when Hermoine couldn't take advantage of that opportunity.

For example, no matter how sickening it was to watch two Slytherins make out, she couldn't do anything about it. Especially when one of them was a prefect and the biggest git alive. Malfoy had been so engaged in his public display of affection that thankfully he hadn't noticed her slip away.

If it had been a normal day otherwise, he would have stalked her to the Great Hall from behind, sneering and taunting her no matter what position she held over him. Offcourse maybe now it was just because he hadn't managed to become Head Boy after all. It hadn't been a nice memory. That day when she had been brought to Dumbledore's office along with Terry Boot from Ravenclaw to be announced as the head prefects. Then come back out with Malfoy standing there seething with rage and fury.

It had almost been funny.

She had almost expected him to be Head Boy. Almost dreaded about the power he would have over the rest of the school and the way he would misuse his advantage, but apparently Dumbledore had thought it through.

She had been delighted over the fact that her night patrols would include intelligent talk in between her and Terry, rather than squabbles between her, Malfoy and his inflated ego. And how right she had been.

By the time she got to the Great Hall, Ron had already wolfed down half his breakfast, ignorant of little crumbs stuck to the edges of his mouth. Harry was busy forking his eggs around, looking thoughtful as ever. Sometimes she felt as if he thought a tad too much.

"Good morning." She cleared her throat before taking her seat opposite them.

"'Mornin." Ron managed through a full mouth, while Harry just looked up and mumbled a hello.

Clearing her throat once more, Hermoine turned her attention to Ron, or at least to his eyes, "Um…so I guess you guys heard about the ball?" she managed a squeak before downing her orange juice.

Harry, who looked up at that word was silenced by Ron's blabbering, "Can't wait for it! And this time, I will be asking the good girls out before they get taken!" his declaration was so heartfelt that Hermoine couldn't help but feel warmth soaring through her chest. Last time, after the Yule Ball, the two of them had had a quarrel over the same fact. The fact that Hermoine had agreed to Victor Krum. And the fact, Ron had been planning to use her like the last resort.

But this time, he would ask her. That twinkle in his eyes just said it.

Finally managing on keeping her flushed cheeks on rest, she turned to Harry who yet had to pick his fork into his mouth, "Who will you be asking Harry?"

"Huh?" the boy looked up at her strangely, then casted a wary glance at Ron before quickly replying, "Not sure yet…we—err have an entire week for it, right?"

"I know." Hermoine sighed as she looked back down at her breakfast, "That's what I told Ginny." And so just like that, she missed out on the horrified expression that had passed over Harry Potter's face.


He wasn't ashamed to admit it. Draco was checking out all the Slytherin girls at his table. He did it on a daily basis, but today was for an important reason. While Pansy Parkinson chatted away animatedly, he let his eyes glide over any suitable girl he had missed out on in his own house. Contraire to popular opinion he knew for sure that Slytherin girls were the best. They had the looks, the attitude, and the…rest.

Millicent Bulstrode sat a few chairs away, engaged in a heavy conversation with a boy next to her. She was decent looking, but if only she wasn't so manly. Scarlett MacDougal sat on the other end. She was small, blonde, cute dimples, but she was a tighter leech than Pansy. Rose Curtis was two chairs from his right. She was strong, powerful, but it would be great if she could eat with her mouth closed. Then there was Vivian Warrington on his right, shifting her gaze onto him every few seconds. But she was a junior and he'd have her protective older brother to talk to if he ever miss-handled her. He played as a Beater in his Quidditch team and there was no telling what accidents he could cause.

"Draco, are you listening?" Pansy's sickening sugary voice cajoled from his side, to which he responded mechanically just like he did everyday.

"Yes. I think green suits you better." He drawled, then caught onto the grin Blaise Zabini was passing his way. Normally he would have ignored him, and with the image of Morgana coming out of his room still fresh in his mind, he should have most like at least hexed the guy from below the table. A low blow, but at least it would be worth seeing the guy with boils and pus drooling down his face. But it seemed needless to care anymore. She was just another pathetic girl after his money, and he would most likely be wasting his energy.

Blaise who had hurried out of his own seat, pushed through and managed a seat just beside Draco. Vivian didn't care. As long as she had another pretty face to stare at from the corner of her eyes.

Stiffening lightly, he pretended to pay attention to Pansy on his side.

"Hey. Have you thought about it?" Blaise's voice was rushed.

"Thought about what?"

"Who're you gonna ask?" Blaise muttered, as if meaning to be under the hearing of Pansy Parkinson.

"Parkinson." Draco set down his glass. No girl had yet caught his eye, and it was beyond frustrating. To his luck, Pansy was chatting away with the girl next to her about a green gown or whatever.

But Blaise went on unsurprised, "Guess who I'm gonna ask out?"

Scowling, Draco shrugged. This shouldn't be a hard one. Maybe now he could tell him about how his girlfriend had just been in such close touch with him just minutes ago. Kissing him in public too.

"Hermoine Granger."

"What!" his drink all but managed to come back out of his nose, "The Mudblood?"

"Shhh!" Blaise hissed furiously when heads turned his way.

"Are you bloody insane?" Draco couldn't care less about who heard, all he wanted to know was if his ears were working right.

"Yes. No. Maybe." Blaise's grin was ugly. "I'm gonna snatch her away." He gave a little triumphant laugh before adding, "And Potter and Weasel will never know what hit them."

Curling his lips in disgust, Draco pushed away Pansy's attempt to pat her handkerchief to his mouth, "You're taking your chances with filth? Fine, be my guest."

But Blaise quietly sat back in his chair, that small smile dancing on his face, "Actually, I wouldn't call her filth. I think she's quite lovely."

"Lovely?" Draco bit out with revolt, "I take it back. You are insane." Then with another push at Pansy's wrist he sneered, "Wait till everyone hears. I suggest you rethink now before you become a laughing stock."

Rolling his eyes, Blaise shrugged, "The word would be envied Draco. Granger's cute, witty and smarter than you if I can recall. Besides," he paused with a low brow, "I've heard of lots of guys making plans to ask her out. I'll just have to get to her before they do."

Scowling darkly, Draco pushed away his breakfast, "She's a Mudblood whose tongue is more tainted than her heritage. And I'll doubt she'll even let you breath the same air she breaths."

"Your concerns are touching," Blaise chuckled, "But once I'm through with her, we'll be sharing things other than just air." And with that, he pushed back his chair and left the table.

Eyes scanning, Draco almost expect him to stroll to the Gryffindor table, but Blaise Zabini didn't look back once when he walked out of the Great Hall.

"Draco?" Pansy's pout reached his ears, "What's wrong with you? What did he say?"

"Nothing." He could hear himself mutter, but he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to the opposite table where the girl with a shock of curls sat. He couldn't believe it. He never knew Blaise would risk such humiliation. To ask her out would be worse than social suicide. She was a Mudblood. The lowest in society's eyes. The lowest of all mongrels.

And where did that rat get off calling her lovely? She was a bookworm. Had no life whatsoever. A snobby-know-it-all. Had common brown eyes. Buck-teeth. And that hair…with that thick volume, he wouldn't be surprise if he could pull out one rotting corpse after another out of it.

And yet, as he sat there, moodily sipping from his goblet, he couldn't help but imagine the Mudblood coming out of Blaise's dorm, like Morgana had this morning. Hair disarrayed than it already was. Her nightgown wrinkled. And face flushed.

For a second, Draco thought he might as well puke rather than imagine the Mudblood at all. After all, it wasn't his problem. Blaise Zabini could do whatever he wanted to. Even if it meant taking the annoying, insufferable little wretch to the ball.

So with that in mind, he went back to inspecting girls…this time on the Ravenclaw table.


Till now, Hermoine had never understood the full meaning of rejection. But as she watched Neville nod numbly at her, with a forced smile stretched upon his face, she felt like almost slapping herself.

The poor boy had been making it quite obvious throughout Potions. Sending her hints. About how the howler had woken him up this morning. About how he would be able to get his hands on better robes this time. About how no one had asked him yet. For Merlin's sake, even about the colour of his robes. And then at the end of the lessons, when she was walking behind in deep thought behind Ron and Harry, she had felt him tap on her shoulders.

To her frustration, her so called friends had been so engrossed in a Quidditch match between Hungary and Germany that they hadn't even noticed that they had left her behind. And then there was this awkwardness.

Neville had been shifting from one foot to another. His face was flushed crimson, and he looked as though he were about to burst.

For a second of confusion, Hermoine had been rather worried that he might faint from excess blood reaching his brains, but he did the least expected thing. He asked her out to the ball…again.

The 'again' was from during the Yule Ball, where she had politely refused his offer as she already had a date.

But this time, this time Hermoine was left unguarded. She had to swallow once, then twice. Then when she though that his face couldn't get any redder, a strange smooth voice had spoken up for her.

"I'm sorry, but that would be impossible," it sounded so rude that Hermoine was thankful to the heavens that it wasn't her own. Instead she felt the speaker's presence right behind her at which the witch spun around flinching.

He was a Slytherin boy. That's all she knew from the green tie. And as for who he was, all she knew was that he was one of Malfoy's worshippers. Zabini something. His name was always called out last on the register. She vaguely recalled him being one of the guys in her Potions class.

"Huh?" Neville's voice echoed at the same time as hers.

For a second, Hermoine stood herself firm, then found herself taking a step back in disgust and alarm just in case Zabini was to pull out a wand out of nowhere and hex her. Or Neville.

"Didn't she tell you?" Blaise's voice was smooth as silk before he glanced down at her, "She's already taken."

Confusion rolled into her, but one look at Neville's faltered wane smile and Zabini's gleaming eyes, told her that her decision had been made for her.

"Neville," she started, "I'm so—,"

"No." the Gryffindor quickly cleared his throat, "No. It's okay." Neville was trying to look anywhere but at her and the Slytherin behind her. "I mean. It's—okay. Um. I'll…I'll see you in the common room." And without as much as another backward glance the boy was out of her sight.

Oh God. Hermoine was close to following after him and explaining, but then she whirled around to glare and snap at the Slytherin, "Why on Earth did you do that!" But for a question as demanding as that, Hermoine wasn't expecting an answer. Instead she tightened her grasp around the wand in her pocket before snapping once more, "And who are you!"

Zabini didn't look taken back. Instead, he was beaming positively with hands disappearing in his pockets. "I just offered you a mere helping hand. That's all."

"That's all?" Hermoine heard herself thunder, "You just happened to have dug your nose into a conversation that was nowhere near related to you! Who are you to interfere!"

"Relax your pretty horses," the dark haired boy busily rolled his eyes, then flashed her his award-winning smiles, "I was just helping you from breaking Longbottom's poor heart. And who better to hear it from than me?"

"And pray tell me," Hermoine could feel her fingers trembling to curse him, "Why would a Slytherin like you care and help for a Gryffindor like me and him?" Her anger was unearthing, and for a moment she feared hexing the boy through and through.

"Because…" Blaise made the word roll on his tongue, "I was on the spur of asking you myself."

"Asking me what?" she scowled tersely.

He rolled his eyes once again, "For the being the brainiest girl around here, you sure can be dense." She went white with rage as soon as she heard that, "I meant asking you myself…" then when he noticed her confusion hadn't hesitated, he sighed and said in a very slow voice, "…to the ball."

Blaise stood there watching interesting emotions flicker over her face in the mere time interval of half a minute. And then before he knew it, her face was contorted strangely. It was surprising really. Never had he been able to read a person off so clearly.

"Zabini." Hermoine heard herself growl, "I think you've lost any marbles in the head a Slytherin might have." And with that, she turned back around to hurry out of the hallway. She didn't give Blaise any warning before she scrambled through doorways, then rushed into her History of Magic class all the while muttering heated curses.

Now this was it.

This was exactly what she just needed. Nodding her head down, Hermoine groaned heavily. Although sarcasm wasn't healthy, she didn't know what else would rub away the anger in her.

It was easily feasible to know that the second Neville would see Ron and Harry, he would blab off everything in the fraction of a second. And then Ron, being the impulsive brat he was, would most obviously start giving her the silent treatment for not telling him she already had a date…and then…then, that would mean that he would never ask her.

Then he would end up asking Padma again. Or maybe even have that affair with Lavender all over again.

It made her sick. So…annoyed. She was a Head Girl damn it. Head Girls had to be present. And without a date…without a date she would look so…so miserable. So…unwanted. Pathetic. And that would just give everyone more of a reason to hate her.


The book in his lap was glaring at him furiously. So furiously that he could almost feel his head reeling.

"Draky, Draky, Draaky."

Something had absolutely gone wrong in his last experiment. Either he had added a pint too much of crystal powder or a drop too much of rat blood. Now, if only he could—

"Oh Draky, Draky, Draaky."

—coax Snape into letting him do this experiment just one more time then he might just—

"Draky. Oh, oh, Draaky."

It was never easy to say Pansy was a good singer. She had this squeaky voice that got even louder when she actually squeaked. And with her humming that ridiculous tune next to his ear, Draco found it next to impossible to make out anything of his Potions notes.

It was frustrating to sit there. For once there were not too many students around. The fire was warming his toes. The room was dim just the way he liked it. And the cushions behind him were so soft. But if only it wasn't for that tune. That stupid tune that was riling him up bit by bit.

For a second he had half his mind made up to just put up a silencing spell around him. But then that would only make Pansy leech onto him even more, demanding what was wrong with him, why he was avoiding her and the usual sort. Even though her voice wouldn't be audible, there would still be her face that would pout and squint.

And if he were to retire, then there would be no peace in his dorm either. And sleep was the last thing on his mind, especially when he had a delaying essay due.

His options numbered, Draco looked into his book deeply before snapping it shut, "That's it."

"Really?" Pansy had perked up beside him, "Are you done? Now can we go to your room?"

Struggling to keep himself from pointing his wand at her, Draco stood up straight, pulling apart from her grasp, "I didn't say I was done." He tore away from her before he though she would latch onto his robes, "I'm just going to the library. I'll see you at dinner."

"But Draco," Pansy moaned with a sulk, "You know I don't like going to library. It's so…ugh…dusty and full of cobwebs and dirt. Surely you can skip studying for one night…" As expected she was inching forward to grab onto his robes, but Draco had already made his way over to the Slytherin's common room portrait hole.

"Then busy yourself doing something. I'll be back later."

Draco didn't wait to hear another word. Not another whine. While there was no comfort in the library, at least it was Pansy-free. So grinning widely to himself and his book tucked under his arm, he made his way through the corridors with nothing but the bright fire on the walls to guide him.


She felt she could cry no more. Not cry specifically, but moan and groan.

Hermoine had lodged herself at her favourite table in the library, where the fire had been set roaring behind her back with curtains drawn closed. And yet, being there with the dusty smell of books wafting around her, her annoyance wasn't wearing any thinner.

She was angry. Yes. So angry that if she wasn't a Head Girl, she would have run after Ronald Weasley setting fire to his hair and screaming every hex she could think from the top of her head at him. He had to be the most thickest person ever. The most stupidest. The most idiotic.

The second Hermoine had set foot into the common room after her last class for the day, Lavender had skipped to her squealing and eyes dancing, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Ron ask me out!"

And if all the girls gathered hadn't been smiling ear to ear, she would have pulled a tantrum right then and there. As in, surely there must have been a mistake. She'd been dropping hints all day long. Ironically, she had even ended up telling the story scene to scene of how Neville Longbottom had asked her out only to be disturbed by Zabini's weird invitation. But Harry and Ron hadn't seemed a bit surprised. They hadn't flinched an inch, and to make matters worse, for a moment, she had even thought Ron was about to ask her himself. But in the end he only managed to ask if he would borrow her Charms homework.

But no. Instead, he had gone for Lavender. The girl she had seen him snogging almost every minute of his day last year. That girl whose soft auburn hair fell in such graceful layers behind her. Whose deep brown eyes glistened with wildness and cheek.

However she on the other hand had her hair like a magpie's nest and eyes that fell on only books. Hermoine had decided admitting to herself. While she topped classes and was busy with Head Girl duties and trying to be the perfect student teachers would love, Lavender was mischievous and loved gaining attention of her peers. She was spontaneous and never short of a giggle. She was slim and tall, always bright…and always the one to capture Ron's attention.

Slamming another book down into a pile, Hermoine pushed back a stray curl and her head tight in her hands.

No. She was positively not jealous of Lavender. This was the girl who giggled in every situation. Who managed to make a mock out of every situation. This was the same girl who annoyed Hermoine to bits. The same girl would chat away into the late hours of the day with Parvati and leave Hermoine to put a Silencing sleep just so she could get a bit of a shut eye.

Groaning lightly, Hermoine pulled out a worn out binder from the stack of large books surrounded on her table. Groping for her quill, she found it sitting under a berth of unguarded parchments. On a usual night those towering piles of books would be there so that no one else would get their hands on them while she was there, but tonight? Tonight, it was only so that no passerby could see her frustrated face.


Those books were missing.

Potions and Spells. Spell Gone Wrong. Potions: A Theory. Practice with the Cauldron.

None of them were there. Kicking a shelf, Draco cursed heavily under his breath. It just had to be his nasty luck. Books that weren't on loan had to turn out missing. And who on earth would be reading all of them! There weren't many students in his class. Especially those who would bother coming to the library to research on a stupid homework essay. Draco winced at how those words impeccably referred to him, but just brushed it aside by puling out another book before pushing it back into its slot.

This was getting nowhere. He had been over through out the entire section. And it had all been for nothing. He had even bothered asking Madame Pince, and even that had been for nothing. It pissed him off to no end. Where the hell were those books?

Letting his finger trace over covered spines, Draco stopped under another section when a red lettering caught his eye.

Unguarded Potions.

Pulling it out with his wand, he turned the thick book over to flip through dusty pages. They were yellowing and if he squinted hard enough, Draco found out he could just about make out the slanted brown lettering.

Sighing in content he turned back to the shelf, fingers already scrounging for other such random books. He had only been keeping one eye on the shelf and the other on the book. He didn't realize how his attention could have gone through the slot in the shelf. He didn't realize why he suddenly couldn't tear his eyes away from the top of messy brown curls.

For a second he stood there rooted to the spot, his wand flipping pages over but eyes never on it. And then before he realized what he was doing, his wand had pushed the book back in into the slot. Then pocketing it in his robes, he found himself making his way around the entire shelf.

Hermoine Granger had her nose in a book, with several others sitting around her. The fire behind her was blazing and roaring warmly, and she looked to be concentrating so hard that his presence was still concealed.

However unknowingly, Draco remembered the words from Blaise that had been echoing in his head all day long. 'I think she's lovely.'


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Hmmm...hope that was alright for my first try at Harry Potter. I'm not big on writing fics for HP but I thought I might give it a try. I happen to adore the Draco/Hermoine relationship, so...I was just thinking one day and zap...this is what I got. I'm planning on keeping it short and to the point. XD
So tell me if you guys liked it or not.