Flair for the Dramatic

            When people look at me, most of them don't realize I have a flair for the dramatic. No one sees me as the hopeless romantic type. I'm the bookworm, the practical one. Hermione Granger isn't supposed to fall in love. If she does, it'll be Harry or Ron, and she'll live in the perfect suburban house and have 2.8 kids. Everyone says I'm the smartest witch of my year, the one who will accomplish anything and everything. But they don't give me any thought besides that. If anyone knew I kept a diary, or read trashy romance novels, or daydreamed constantly about falling in love, they would sent me to St. Mungo's to get my head checked out.

            But the truth is, the person they see isn't me at all. Not even Harry or Ron knows me. I'm a hopeless romantic. I create elaborate fantasies in my head, most of them ending unhappily. After all, where's the drama and romance in a traditional, happily every after story?

            My most common one was falling in love with some one I couldn't have. I guess I had a little bit of a Romeo and Juliet complex. I'd imagine the passionate yet brief love affair; the tears and the pain. I had our final scene laid out in my head exactly; he'd be begging me, crying, telling me how much he loved me, how it could still work. I would be crying too, but I'd be strong, and I'd tell him it could never be. After one last, lingering, bittersweet kiss, he'd turn and walk away. I would be sad, but would be happy in some way knowing I did the right thing.

            How could I have known my naïveté would come back to haunt me? How was I to know how cruel a thing irony could be?

            It was fine in my dreams. After all, it was only pretend. It didn't really hurt. I never imagined…I never imagined this.

            I never truly expected to fall in love.

            And I never expected it would be with him.

            Draco Malfoy. King of Slytherin and Hogwarts Heartbreaker. Impenetrable. Cold as ice. Women swooned, men worshipped. Incredibly handsome in a sinister and evil way. Piercing grey eyes that I can't forget. A legendary smirk that was nothing to his real smile, if you ever saw it.

            It began simply. We were fighting as usual, face to face, inches apart. Suddenly I felt this chemistry move between us. Something in his eyes changed. Without warning, he kissed me.

            It was nothing like my dreams. I had never imagined something this astronomical this…I can't even find the words to describe it. I was drowning in him, and I didn't want to fight the tide.

            From then on our fates were sealed. We met at night, breaks, anytime we could. We snuck around for almost half a year without anyone noticing. It was entirely physical. Neither of us expressed feelings for the other. But I couldn't help but love him. How could anyone? Once his proud exterior was broken, he was so helpless. There were moments, when we were lying in each other's arms after a night of passion, when he seemed so vulnerable. He told me things ha had never revealed to anyone else. I wept for him, for the pain he had experienced. But most of all, I wept for the fact that he didn't love me in return.

          And yet, that was what kept us together, that's what kept it possible. Us not loving each other. As far as he was concerned, I didn't love him. And I never knew…

            Until that one fateful moment. We were fighting. He was angry about something. I asked what, and he told me I couldn't understand. We kept yelling at each other until he shouted it. "I love you!"

            My heart stopped. I began crying in ultimate joy. I told him the truth, that I had loved him from the beginning. That night was the happiest of my life.

            But from that moment on we were doomed.

            When we didn't care about each other it was easy enough. But when we did, it was almost impossible to hide. We couldn't bear to keep up the charade of fighting each other.

            I was tearing in two. One part of me wanted to forget everything and just be with Draco. The other part of me knew it could never be. He had become a Death Eater on his 17th birthday. It was against his wishes, but it was the path he was destined to take. I knew one day we would face in battle, and that he would kill the ones I loved or be killed by them. I couldn't bear it.

            So I told him it had to end. I'll never forget his eyes…they looked dead. He began to talk in a rational clear voice, speeding up every second, formulating a plan, some way for it to work. I would have preferred anything to that. After he had spent a few minutes talking to himself, I broke in. "Draco…it can't work."

            He just looked up at me, dropped his hands, and said, "I know."

            The utter defeat in his tone killed me. This wasn't him; a Malfoy could never be defeated. But he was at that moment. He came up to me, and kissed me one last time. We clung to each other, kissing desperately, never wanting to let go. But it had to end. He simply stared at me for a few moments, whispered "I shall love you always," and then he was gone. It took all of my strength not to cry out after him

            In all my daydreams and stories I never imagined the complete pain of the moment. I never imagined it would hurt so much. I never imagined I would love him.

            So here I am. Crushed, a shadow of who I once was. Worse still, I have to pretend that I'm fine and that nothing ever happened. I have to see him every day and pretend to hate him. I have to fight with him every day. I have to face his eyes…

            No one ever told me it would be like this.

            But some part of me, the little voice in the back of my head, remains strong. It refuses to just give up, die, and wither away. Without it, I would have killed myself before it ever came to this.

            It's my sense of humor. It's my ability to step away and laugh at myself. And it's my strange ability to enjoy pain.

            I guess you could say that it's my flair for the dramatic.