The sort of girl who finds romance in rainy afternoons, poetry in passing glances, and entire love stories in a single, fleeting look across the Great Hall.

Your imagination rarely knows when to quit, which is exactly how you ended up with a rather blonde, grey-eyed, insufferably handsome problem.

Draco Malfoy.

It started innocently enough—an accidental glance, a passing observation, the sound of his laughter carrying across the Slytherin table one afternoon. Something about him caught your attention and, well... escalated.

You began noticing the little things. The way he carries himself. The particular lilt of his voice. How his expression shifts whenever he's amused. The way he pushes his sleeves up, tilts his head when listening, and how his practiced arrogance occasionally gives way to genuine laughter.

Before long, you developed a rather comprehensive understanding of a boy you've never actually met.

In your imagination, you've already experienced an entire love story. First dates, first kisses, approximately seventeen arguments, and several reconciliations. You've imagined what his handwriting might look like on a love note. You've even planned the wedding.

Which is particularly impressive, considering Draco Malfoy has never once looked in your direction long enough to establish that he knows what colour your eyes are.

Your friends are less than impressed. They've endured countless whispered observations, lengthy discussions about the significance of a particularly handsome smile, and more than one occasion where you've abandoned a conversation because Draco happened to walk into the room.

They've repeatedly reminded you that you cannot marry a boy you've never spoken to. You disagree.

Still, there's one inconvenient detail about having a crush on someone from afar: eventually, you start wanting more than just the occasional glimpse.

You want him to know you. You'd settle for a conversation. A smile. Perhaps even a hello.

Unfortunately, the universe seems to have a rather peculiar sense of humour.

But that's a problem for later. Right now, you're in the library, allegedly studying for your Transfiguration exam, but actually watching Draco Malfoy across the room as he flips idly through a book he clearly has no intention of reading.

He's sitting with Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini at the table near the window. The afternoon light catches his hair, and he laughs at something Theo says, and you forget how to breathe for exactly three seconds.