Toxic Crush

~1~

I always thought that love was simple, that I would see you and know that I wanted to spend my life with you, but I was wrong. Loving you was the best rollercoaster of my life.

~*~

A young teenager stood to the side of the street, staring in admiration at the firebolt in the window of 'Quality Quidditch Supplies'.

She was of average height, and had long, straight brown hair that glowed golden in the sunlight. Her green eyes were so bright and coloured that they looked unnatural in the most beautiful way, and her smile was captivating.

Many would have mistaken her for a veela, but she was human. She also happened to be a pureblood witch.

"Clara!"

She spun around, her enchanting eyes scrunching as she grinned at the caller.

"Hi Marcus!" She said brightly as she half walked, half ran into his open arms. "How are you? Ready for fourth year?"

The boy grinned and threw his arm around her in a brotherly way. "Nope. Pretty good, how about you?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." Her body began to guide them back towards the quidditch store. "Have you seen the firebolt?"

He shook his head and grinned. "Since yesterday? No, you'll have to show me."

The two of them walked into the little shop and began to talk about quidditch like they always did.

Marcus Belby was a brother to Clara.

Her own brother had died when she was very young, and Marcus was there for her when he couldn't be. They had grown up together, and it was always tradition to look at broomsticks

The bell on the door tinkled, and a tall boy with platinum blonde hair walked in. Clara recognised him instantly.

She slipped silently away from Marcus, who was now trying to impress a Hufflepuff girl, and walked into the narrow aisles in an attempt to hide from Draco Malfoy.

She busied herself with some broom polish and pretended to be engrossed in the label and ingredients as he walked past her. She was not in the mood for a fight.

Clara Wentworth was Draco's favorite person to tease, because she always fought back just as strongly as he did, and there was no telling who was going to win till the end.

He found her exhilarating.

He noticed her golden brown hair and stopped in his tracks, smirking to himself as he chose a topic to argue about.

He had just settled on blood status when she cut him off, her cold words sending the usual thrill through his brain.

"What do you want daddy issues?"

He regained his composure and straightened his posture, standing tall over her. "I don't want anything to do with you blood traitor."

"Cool." She put the pot of broom polish back on the shelf and began to stride away from him.

He grabbed her wrist, his rings pushing into her skin. "I lied. Want to talk about quidditch?"

"Not particularly."

"Great, I'll start. I think that Ireland suck, they only won the cup on a fluke."

He knew she adored the Irish team, and would defend them at any opportunity she got, so he was incredibly surprised when she brushed him off again.

"Yeah, maybe." She pulled her wrist out of his grip and walked away again, this time successfully.

He stood alone in the aisle watching her leave, wondering why girls were so confusing as she turned the corner and left the shop, her stupid sidekick Marcus at her side.