Dramione Diaries | Fluffy Oneshots

15 | hate or jealousy

Dear Granger,

You're such an annoying, filthy mess of a mudblood.

Draco Malfoy sneers at the small girl on the opposite side of the library. He watches with his distasteful piercing gaze as she interacts wildly with Red-Headed Weasel.

He sees her bright, wild smile that kills for miles. Her jubilant, blinding eyes that shines lighter than the sun when Weasley returns a grin at her. He swears there were spinach between her teeth when she smiled, it was obvious since her teeth were so white. He sniggers as Weaselbee keeps glancing down at her large, beaver teeth with a speck of spinach on it.

I can't believe you got accepted to Hogwarts. What was Dumbledore thinking inviting a good-for-nothing, easy mudblood? Neville is more fit than you, and that's saying quite a lot.

She's so damn annoying. With her irritating know-it-all voice and muggle stench that lingers the corridors. Her endless freckles that looks dark and horrid on the light complexion of her skin. Her brain that doesn't seem to shut up when it needs to.

Draco Malfoy continues to watch the muggleborn and the blood traitor, a pit in his stomach increasing in size every minute. It was an ugly feeling, almost as ugly as them together. Dear Salazar, them officially together would be an unsightly moment with his flaming hair and her mess of a woolly mane. Their children would be made in hell.

At least if she was with him, their children would look quite decent.

Draco threw the thought away into the depths of his brain where forbidden thoughts should stay and never come out again, and he shivered in utter repulsion at it. Why did he think that? In what insane universe did that thought appear from?

I hate you so much. I hate your face. Your brain. Your mouth that runs. Everything about you. Fuck, why am I even writing about you at this ungodly hour? You don't deserve to be written about.

Weasel raises a hand, and Draco assumes he will smack her for that runny mouth and beaver teeth of hers and he feels giddy to watch the show. Unfortunately, Weasel instead has put his paw by Granger's cheek which has bloomed like a pink blossom.

Draco scowls at the two. Granger's cheeks were as bright as Weasel's hair and red as the apple in his hand. They seem to be centimeters closer than they did before, and his shoulders tense at the uncomfortably horrific scene. He has the urge to fling the ripe apple and break them apart, to fulfill the satisfaction of having them at a distance of each other and have her scowl aimed at him as usual.

He hates the color on her cheek when she's around the Weasel. He hates her secretive smiles she sends to the Weasley boy when she thinks no one is looking. He hates the happy gleaming look in her eyes when she looks at the red-head. He hates the empty hole digging its way down his chest and into his stomach where he suddenly feels nauseous.

I especially hate it when you're around him. It's so fucking aggravating seeing you prancing around someone equally as filthy, exploding the room with your dirty hell.

Draco snarls when Weasel's arm reaches around her shoulders for a side hug. And she was leaning into him like a cat arching it's back at it's owner. He pictures her electrocuted-looking cat she calls Crookshanks, and he realizes the similarity of their looks with a mocking grin.