Midnight Love

Midnight Love

It's midnight, and the sensitive illumination of the full moon peers through the window, and into her soul. It provides solace and contentment, two emotions of which she is in need. Olive-drab locks conceal the paper that lies so lifelessly before her. The pen remains in a death-grip so tight her nails are digging caverns into the purple coated plastic of the pen. Sleep is promising to capture her, and she is almost taken prisoner, when a dark figure slips in beside her. Deluded that he is unnoticed, he proceeds to open up a book.

She studies his figure cautiously, making sure to leave no hint of her growing interest. Nonetheless, he knows she is watching him. He can feel her burning glance, and for reasons he can't explain it's sends chills through every crack and crevice of his body. His body intrigues her, the way his jaw clenches and grows tense every five minutes, the way the clothes cling to his sinewy frame.

"Interesting choice you have there." He smirks, pointing at the open Discovering The Undiscovered Mysteries Of Boggarts.

"Ugh...I wish. The author's intelligence level is outrageous. His grammar and spelling is just downright wrong. It's a wonder it even got published."

By his surprised expression she can tell she's said too much, and abruptly makes an attempt to fix it.

"Sorry about that...sometimes I get a little too passionate about literature. You see I'm writer and-"

"You can't help but call a spade a spade."

She nods, astonished at how easy it is to talk to him, a stranger.

"I know how you feel. I'm a teacher at Hogwarts. It's somewhat to make amends for all the trouble I caused while I was a student there," his cheeks flushed a slight shade of rose, and she could tell he was embarrassed, "and I can't help but express it, when I feel a teacher is incompetent."

She giggles, a very girlish yet familiar laugh.

"So I'm guessing you're not well liked there," she remarks sarcastically. "Hogwarts isn't exactly the sanctuary of truth." She's surprised at her own boldness.

He notices the way she twirls her hair when she's nervous, and the way her puppy eyes light up when she talks about something she's passionate about. It entices him, all of it.

"Yea. and I guess the fact that I'm a Malfoy doesn't exactly make them want to stand up and hug me," he remarked slipping on that trademark Malfoy grin.

Suddenly, that little world she was forming is shattered. It's him. She turns away, and gathers her things to go. He places his hands on hers, and she feels as if ice slithers have reversed the flowing of her blood.

"What?" he questions, "I don't get it, what did I do wrong?"

"You're Draco Malfoy. I'm Hermione Granger. We're from too different worlds."

"Am I mistaken, but I do believe we were getting along just fine."

"You knew didn't you? You know I didn't know who you were?" she asked hatred piercing through her soul.

"Had you known, would you have stayed?"

"That doesn't answer my question." He loved that fieriness in her. It was part of what made her so alluring.

"Answer mine first."

"No, I wouldn't have and I have good reason to hate you Draco Malfoy."

"But you don't do you? Because I don't hate you. On contrary, it's the opposite situation," he remarked lifted her chin with his thumb. He studied her face, eyes brimming, tempting to spill over. Before she could stop it, she felt his lips press softly onto hers. It wasn't before long that his hands followed suite. Then, out of breath he slowly pulled away. "I think I'm falling in love with you, Hermione Granger, and I think you love me too."