Whimpy Willow.

She always liked Autumn best—the scarlet and gold hues, the cool and crisp breeze, and the crunch that came with each footfall. She had always strangely loved how the threat of rain loomed in the ceaselessly grey skies. She finds solace in the glum of Fall, she always said. 

She watched in amusement as her breath smoked and rose above her as she ambled down the sidewalk. Time and everything else seemed to pass much slower than it usually did, which she adored. Although everyone around her seemed to be drowning in sorrow and melancholia, perhaps from how the breeze seemed to carry the feeling of nostalgia with it, it was in the little things about Autumn, that brought her joy. 

But perhaps, it was truly because only in Autumn, he’d return for a month. Remembering that she was left with two days until he got back from the United States, she started walking with a spring in her step. He was the reason why the ever so morose Fall was jubilant for her. They were together for a year or two before he whisked off to the US, to join a research team for Medicinal Potions. She knew better than anyone that work like that could take years before they could achieve their giant step for wizardkind. Though she missed him dearly, she understood that he needed her everlasting and never-failing support. So she waited. For four years, she waited, for him to come back home to her. And for the years to come, she’d wait. 

The smell of damp earth filled her lungs as she got to the secluded park near her apparition point. Looking around for wandering muggles, she spotted one, all clad in black, much to her dismay. As she looked closer, she’d come to realise the lonesome figure adorned that familiar white blonde mane she adored. Heart beating faster, lump in throat, she stealthily treaded closer to the man. 

“Draco? Is that you?” she croaked, anxious.

“Hey Granger, missed me?” he turned, coming face to face with her. Her eyes were brimming with tears and an enormous smile lit her face, she hadn’t expected him, not today. She threw herself into his outstretched arms, wrapping hers around him, never wanting to let go. If there was any sadness lingering in them, it disappeared like rain in summer when their bodies collided. 

“Granger, I did it!” he said, breaking the hug. “We did it. We’ve found a permanent cure for werewolves! I no longer have to go back!” 

Upon hearing this, as cliché as it sounded, her world spun and time stopped. No more goodbyes or lonely nights, no more waiting, no more binge-eating ice cream when she missed him. She was rendered completely speechless and left with thoughts on whether this was something certain.

“This isn’t a joke, is it?” she said, her voice quaky and quiet. She looked straight into his eyes, the eyes that had the hue of a beautiful ocean grey, pools of mercury she could get lost in. 

Only answering with a smile and a soft chuckle, he got down on one knee. She watched with tear-filled eyes as he looked up to her and held her hand, his face glowing under the trickles of rays of sunshine. Reaching out for a ring, he asked,

“Hermione Granger, will you marry me?”

“There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it so unspeakably desirable.” — Mark Twain

It was nightfall and there she was, cozied up to the surrounding shrubbery and foliage, her back to the trunk of an enormous tree. She loved how the smell of the warm, damp earth filled her lungs with every breath she took. The Enchanted Forest was vastly different from any other muggle forest she had ever visited. The forest was painted with shades of emerald, hues of blues and jewel tones. Little glowing dots of silver hovered around the forest, almost like fireflies. The land was absolutely spectacular, like something out of a fairytale novel. She adored how serene and quiet the place was, or at least this side of the forest was. It never failed to put her in a better mood, it was her way of escaping reality.

He was high above her, propped up dangerously on the branch of a tree, his broom hovering beside him. He was never a fan of the forest: the flora and fauna, the sultry environment and the bugs, they were the worst. But this, this was the only way he could spend time with her, without feigning hatred, albeit from a distance, unbeknownst to her. To fancy someone like her, was taboo. 

She was his Forbidden Fruit.

Tempting and alluring as she was, bearing romantic feelings for her would be absolutely catastrophic. Perhaps it was the charm of the possibility of a forbidden romance that made her so desirable to him. He wasn’t very sure. All he knew was that she made him feel as though his heart was dancing around in his chest. And when she smiles, his whole world stops and somehow he forgets how to breath. She was beautiful in an ethereal but subtle way, clever, charming and compassionate. But it was all meaningless, for it was impossible. 

From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of electric blue, which was followed by a series of giggles. But before he could catch sight of the bothersome pest, he felt a pinch on both his ears and was lifted high into the air, above the towering trees. Pixies.

The sight before him was one to behold, but there was no time for that. He was praying desperately, that the pixies wouldn’t drop him anywhere close to her. It would certainly be far too humiliating. 

His prayers weren’t answered. His nimbus, fortunately, broke his fall. But broke it only a feet or two in front of her. He knew very well that she would be quick to catch on and that there was absolutely no other way around this. 

She got up in a startle, and quickly fumbled to her feet. Lying face down atop a broomstick hovering above some shrubs was unmistakably, Draco Malfoy. She wondered what his motives were and if he had been following her in discretion. She watched in silence, her arms akimbo as he stealthily got up to face her, ears scratched, cheeks flushed and face cut. It was only now that she realised how dashing he actually was, in spite of the patches of dirt and scratches on his cheeks. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a smoke-filled orb-mesmerising.

He took small short glances at her as she stared silently at him, her arms now folded and her eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Malfoy,” she began, “were you following me?”

He could swear his heart stopped, he was petrified. The woman of his dreams was standing before him, alone, in a secluded place. String after strings of curse words ran through his mind. He was unsure of how he could respond being all jittery, and on top of how forward she was.

“Obviously, Granger. Could you be more daft?” he spat, not realising the gravity of his words until he said it. 

A heavy silence settled over them, thicker and denser than the already oppressive atmosphere.  She was completely dumbfounded, and the wide-eyed, frazzled look she had on her face depicted very well what she was feeling. She thought that perhaps, just a maybe, that there was an iota of a possibility that Draco Malfoy fancied her. It would’ve been strange for sure, since they would pretty much be thwarted by the most: star-crossed. Or perhaps, it was a joke.

“Do you like me or something?” She said, raising an eyebrow and tapping her foot, thinking that her being straightforward could coerce him into telling the truth. 

He nearly choked on the air he was breathing. He knew that she was witty and even dubbed the cleverest witch of her age. But she couldn’t possibly have seen through him. He was sneaky and careful, just as witty and more resourceful. She couldn’t have known... He never kept his memories in vials, or took out the newspaper clipping he had of her from an article during the war last year in front of others. Neither had he kept a diary. 

He could’ve gone delirious, being stuck in this dilemma. There was the choice of telling the truth and risk getting his heart broken. And there was also the choice of lying, which also came with the risk of getting his heart broken.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, the once glowing dots of silver, glowed a beautiful shade of periwinkle. It seemed to prance around the two of them, enveloping them in a cloud of glowing periwinkle fireflies. It was nonetheless a magical sight. Maybe it was the magic of the Enchanted Forest, but Hermione felt as if her heart was about to burst out of her chest. Her hands felt clammy and she was suddenly conscious about how she looked in front of him. Her world was spinning and she felt giddy. She looked at him under the sliver of moonlight seeping in from above, and it was as if time had stopped just for them. 

Forbidden fruit or not, he wanted a bite. She was much too captivating, and she was driving him insane.

Right there and then, all he knew was that the woman he'd been holding a torch for was there before him. He couldn’t give this chance up. So he took her by the waist and pressed his lips onto hers. It was magnificent, magical and more than everything he had ever imagined. It was absolutely perfect. 

For in that moment, they could’ve sworn, that they were infinite.

(post-war, 8th year Dramione)

“I show not your face, but your heart’s desire.” - Mirror of Erised (part 2)

Under the dove grey sky, his forlorn figure stood, overlooking the blanket of snow over the hills and valleys surrounding Hogwarts. The dementors were gone now, but the feeling of despair and melancholy still lurked the grounds. A sigh escaped his lips as he wondered if he was the only one drowning in the mere misery of unrequited love. 

He had spent the last couple of months in absolute anguish, completely in disbelief over the displayed reflection. But he knew better, that the mirror could not have been wrong. 

He’s in love with her.

It was a strange, new, overwhelming feeling which consumed him. And it hurt—all that ran through his mind was the squirmy little know-it-all. This poison-like emotion was one he couldn’t really comprehend and it just hurt.

So he wrote her a letter, one that revealed how he truly felt, and sent it albeit anonymously. He thought that perhaps, it’d ease his mind a significant bit. He drew out yet another sigh and gazed into the now dusty orange streaked sky. Staying up here in the Astronomy Tower allowed him to get away from the world, even if it was just for a bit. It was magnificent up here, and he’d desire more than anything, to share this with her. Maybe one day, I will...

“Call me a fool. But I am in love with you. I hate that I love you. But I love you. It’s so stupid, but I love you.” he instantly recognised that pompous voice and where those words originated. “Borderline obsessive, especially with the ‘I love you’s’, isn’t it, Malfoy?”

He froze. Part of him wanted to yell at her, asking her to get out and scram out of his sight for sheer embarrassment. But part of him also wanted to know how she felt. He was completely flustered and frightened out of his wits. How on earth could she possibly know it was me?

“You know, if you really wanted to stay anonymous, you wouldn’t have addressed this letter to ‘the muggle’.” He noticed the hint of amusement in her voice, but still refused to look at her. Bollocks.

His heart was thumping wildly and his insides felt as if it was infested with nargles. Nobody had dared to shame him in any way, and he was absolutely mortified. 

“Malfoy, I’ll have you know that I am in no way a muggle. I am a fairly brilliant witch.” 

“It’s Draco... just, Draco. And you’re definitely more than just brilliant.” He said, gathering every ounce of confidence he had in him. He looked straight at her, and it was as if space and time had stopped in the moment, for in that moment, his universe was standing right there before him. He watched as her lips curled into the million-watt smile he could never get used to.

“Well, Draco, it’s Hermione. Just, Hermione.” 

 “I show not your face, but your heart’s desire” - Mirror of Erised

The fog hung thinly over the black lake and the skies were dark and sombre. Silence swathed the land as dementors skirted around and loomed hauntingly over Hogwarts, leaving the land barren with joy. The winds were merciless and frosty, and it stung to breathe as if the slap he just took from the person he hated most already wasn’t enough. 

He despised the gloomy atmosphere surrounding the school, the absence of life and cheering was starting to get to him. “I just want to get away from everything, even if its for awhile.” 

The silence was broken when the bricks on the walls before him started shifting, moving in various patterns to uncover an enormous door. He entered the room only to be struck in awe, his wish had been answered. The room was well lit and cosy, with a small fireplace north of the room. The place was almost like a replica of the school’s library, only cosier, warmer and quieter. He loved reading and simply drowning himself in books—it always took his mind off of things. He scoffed, this would’ve been Granger’s haven, what a foolish little know-it-all.

Beside the cackling fireplace, stood an ancient, ornate mirror. It had clawed feet and a gold frame inscribed with the phrase " Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi”. It confused him, for he was certain that it had not been there before. 

“Draco...” something whispered. He turned around hastily, but saw no one. Silence filled the place and once again,

“Draco...” he knew that it had to be that odd thing by the fire place. Stealthily, he approached the mirror.

Reflected, was himself, with a particularly bushy-haired Gryffindor by his side. He shifted his eyes down only to see their hands interlocked. 

Something in him snapped, all the rage he bore, all the anger he had towards Hermione gushed out faster than magma. He raised his fist and aimed for the ridiculous reflection staring at him. This can’t be...

“I have a thousand things to say to you, and a thousand reasons not to.”

I love you, I love you, I love you. I love the way your eyebrows furrow together in annoyance, I love how you never fail to clench your fists and turn your feet inwards whenever I speak to you (torment you). I love how you stand up for whatever you think is right. I love how you’re never wrong. I love how you carry yourself. I love how your scent lingers in the air whenever you rush past me...

You drive me insane... but an ‘us’ between us; its impossible.

Blood aside, we belong to different worlds. You are light and I am dark, and there aren’t any shades of grey between. We belong to opposite ends of a spectrum... 

I was raised to hate everything about you, I have to hate you. “She does not deserve someone like you”, but I’m not deserving of you... 

Maybe one day, when all the stars align, I’d be able to tell you how I feel. But for now, only for now...

“(I love you) I hate you.”