Drarry One-Shots

x ~ Clueless {Jock/Bookworm}

The above prompt^ wasn't sent to me! I simply found it while searching for prompts so yeah just an FYI.

* * *

Large and small book bindings alike are brushed across with my soft fingers as I search for my favorite novel. Despite reading it countless times, I sigh softly and look through the library's entire H-section, still unable to locate the book.

As per usual, I'm in Hogwarts' library. The bookshelves stand tall, rickety, and dusty. The readings on them range from brand new to dozens of years old—the latter being my preferred read. The other students remain hushed, indulged in their studies. That is, except for a few select students who speak in hushed tones, desperately trying to throw together their homework which is presumably due sooner rather than later.

Unable to find my desired book in the H's, I decide to look for another one—preferably one I haven't already read four times. Moving to the I's, I look from title to title, aching for an interesting read. I notice a book carelessly stuffed backwards into the shelf—one that's out of place.

I take it out and switch it around, properly placing it back in the shelf. Upon doing so, I spot that it is, in fact, just the book I'd been searching for. A light smile grazes my lips with this realization. Grabbing the book, I return to my table and open to the first page, ready to lose myself in the author's words.

As usual, I lose track of time, uncaring to the world around me as my wonder and worries instead shift towards the book's plot and characters. Other students come and go, myself being the only constant variable in the library aside from the books themselves.

"Hey," a voice says, un-hushed, forcing its way through and slicing the silence.

I look up to meet the source of the voice only to see nonother than Harry Potter, the remarkably popular student that's loved by all of my class. Oddly, he often visits me in the library, for some reason taking an interest in the least popular student. Putting a finger to my lips, I quietly shush him, desperate to keep the room's heavenly silence intact.

The jock smiles and nods, looking apologetic. "Sorry," he whispers with a quiet chuckle.

I place my hand-carved, wooden page mark (a gift from Mother) into my book, sealing it shut and temporarily closing the entrance into my escape. "Can I help you?" I ask quietly.

Harry smiles for reasons unknown to me. "I wanted to talk to you," he replies honestly, leaning against the wooden table of which I sat.

I look back at him, perplexed as to why. "Do you need help with homework?" I ask, sure there couldn't be any other reason. "Is it potions? I noticed you were struggling with it yesterday in class."

The man shakes his head, a grin still evident on his face. "No, no. It's not potions."

I lean forward in my chair, elbows on the table despite my knowledge that my parents would disapprove of such an act. "Charms, then?" I continue. "Flitwick did just designate a fairly difficult writing assignment."

Harry shakes his head, taking a seat next to me. "No, it's not the charms essay," he says. "Actually, I already finished that."

"You always do this, Potter," I say. "You come down to the library, apparently for me, with reasons that I don't understand." My voice comes out confused (but, of course, still quiet). "You usually don't need help with homework. But then, when you don't, you just. . . talk to me," I continue, growing more confused as I try to piece together a reasoning. "We aren't friends, really. So why?"

The black-haired man sighs. "I've told you a million times, Malfoy," Harry says, a grin evident on his face. "I like you," he explains.

"But we're not friends!" I whisper-yell. "You don't know me, nor do I know you." I look off towards the nearby bookshelves, thinking for a reason that he would like me enough to want to be friends. "Besides, I don't mix well with others," I explain. "So, if you'd like to be my friend, you'll have to put in a bit more effort than a few conversations in the library."