Lo, They Will Snog

Draco woke up one morning and decided that he was madly in love with Hermione. This was, of course, completely believable, as it is perfectly normal for people to spontaneously fall madly in love with another person who has previously been one's enemy, and with whom one has absolutely nothing in common. But that's another story.

Whatever the relative plausibility of the emotion, however, Draco woke up and immediately fell in love with Hermione. "Hmm," he mused, showcasing the author's spectacularly inept grasp of human-sounding dialogue, "I seem to be in love with Hermione. Oh, whatever shall I do? I'd better ask my sweet, loving, emotionally-neglected mother for advice about dealing with this doomed love affair with my sweet Hermione." He thought about it. "Actually, I think I'll have breakfast first." At this point, Draco spent approximately six or seven pages rhapsodizing about Hermione's previously-unnoticed-yet-spectacular beauty, his overwhelming love for the aforementioned figure of previously-unnoticed-yet-spectacular beauty, and his newfound desire to spend the rest of his life raising cute bunnies and frolicking in sunny meadows. Tragically, however, the speech was omitted in an incomprehensible fluke of editing, and lost forever in the Great Abyss of Beta-Reading; suffice it to say that Draco proceeded to spend the next six or seven pages rhapsodizing about Hermione's previously-unnoticed-yet-spectacular beauty, his overwhelming love for the aforementioned figure of previously-unnoticed-yet-spectacular beauty, and his newfound desire to spend the rest of his life raising cute bunnies and frolicking in sunny meadows.

That settled, Draco made his tragic way out into the corridor. The readers braced themselves for a shower of florid description, but it was not to be. The author merely contented herself with saying that the corridor was ornate, and it was amidst this array of expensive-looking... erm, ornateness that Draco went to breakfast. Love had utterly eclipsed his desire for... well, no, that's not totally accurate, he actually was rather hungry at this point...

As the author was saying before she was so rudely interrupted, Draco's newfound-yet-overwhelming love for the divinely beautiful Hermione consumed the whole of his being as utterly as a hyperactive goat would consume a low-hanging laundry line. Not that either Draco or the lovely, kindhearted, generally perfect, etc. Hermione looked or acted anything at all like a hyperactive goat. The two lovers were as ungoatlike as ungoatlike could be. As Draco, in uncharacteristically poetic terms, pondered the meaning of their perfect love (for surely the lovely, kindhearted, generally perfect, etc. Hermione would grow to love him as passionately as he did her, as true as the tides, so pure as to be divinely inspired, so magical it eclipsed any mundane spells, and a lot of other good stuff like that) and their utter ungoatlikeness, he can surely be forgiven for being so caught up in his perfect love for Hermione that he accidentally walked into a large obstacle. By some horrendously unfortunate chance this turned out to be his father, who looked at him in annoyance. "Draco, you haven't been falling madly in love again, have you?"

"No, sir." He could only hope that his love for Hermione didn't radiate from the depths of his misunderstood soul.

Lucius looked at him suspiciously, but didn't seem to be aware of Draco's angst-ridden secret - no doubt because Draco had prudently stuck his "I'M IN LOVE WITH HERMIONE GRANGER" sign behind his back. "Good. Keep it that way."

Several lines of rather dull and unimportant dialogue later, Draco made his way to the dining room to have breakfast.