Yellow Daisies & Unrequited Love

A/N- comments and votes are love:)

YALL DONT READ THIS, IM REWRITING IT SO ITS BETTER

The Nott Manor. He'd been maybe a handful of times in his life.

It's a nice place. It is big, not enormous as Draco's, but not much in comparison.

He remembers the times he had spent there. He'd play quidditch, chase Nott up and down those swirly stairs, and he'd talk about how completely and utterly besotted he'd been with this marvelous witch or still is, but no one knows about that, so he'll keep that detail to himself.

The witch is perfect. She is beautiful with those big brown doe eyes and that curly mane she possesses. Those freckles he dreams about connecting to make constellations and counting every one of them over and over until he gets sick of it. That's not possible. He could never get sick of her.

How could someone get sick of such perfection? He guesses he'll never find out the answer to the question.

He would stare for hours at her creamy, honey-brown skin. It looked delectable when the sun was setting and it was in the perfect place. Her skin would glow.

Nott used to tease him about it. He'd said that loving a girl that much was gross and that girls were too complicated. Said that if he really wouldn't tell him which witch he's besotted in, that it had to be a Muggleborn. Then he'd said, Don't you think she's scum?

Draco couldn't disagree more. This witch is anything but scum or any of those disgusting names he'd called her. She's better than him and his whole ancestry combined. She's better because she's never judged or tortured someone over something they had no control over. She's better because no matter how much shit a person said to her, she never held a grudge. She's no sinner because she has always been a saint.

Yes, he'd call her those heinous names, but only because he was brainwashed into thinking she was inferior. He was fed all those disgusting beliefs as a child and told it was right. How could he possibly have changed with zero knowledge of what he was doing or saying was wrong?

This witch, though, unknowingly taught him right from wrong. She'd taught him to learn from his mistakes — not that she made any because she's utterly perfect — and to always think. To think before saying things that can hurt.

She'd taught him to be resilient. To always bounce back from the worst of the worst because staying in that black hole of hurt and pity won't get him anywhere. Dwelling on the past would never let him see the present and reach the future.

There was another lesson he'd learn from her. If he has to use the past to gain something, then he's doing something wrong.

He'd been doing all the wrong things since birth, so it wouldn't be a surprise. That was another lesson he'd learn from her — he couldn't escape her even he wanted to. She'd taught him to never judge people by something they can't control but by the content of their character. Well, that one was more of a muggle history lesson about some guy named Martin. But that was beside the point because it was she that had taught him that.

Well, she didn't directly teach him that. It was more of him every day accidentally dropping a teacup near the wall he shared with her at work and having to crouch down and picking up shard by shard while conveniently having to put his ear on the wall. It wasn't his fault his head didn't 'fit' between the desk and wall, and he had to press his head to it.

Nonetheless, she'd changed him, unknowingly. She'd shaped him into a better version of himself, and for that, he is eternally grateful. He was a circuit that his parents wired wrongly, but, ultimately, she corrected.