Draco stared at the apple. It glistened in the morning sunlight, hanging from the tree like it was tempting him to come closer. Its skin was a luscious green colour, and Draco couldn't tear his eyes away. He'd never seen anything look so...juicy. Nothing had ever been so perfectly rounded, so shiny and succulent.
Draco had loved the apple from afar for weeks, ever since it first began to form. It had only been tiny then, but now he reckoned it would fit perfectly in his two hands. Not that it hadn't been perfect before - just that, now it was really beginning to grow into its full perfection.
Smiling, Draco closed his eyes, blissful in his love for the apple. Maybe he could invite it to the Yule Ball. Would people talk? Would he care? The apple was just so green. Green, like his Slytherin robes. Green, like green was the colour that encompassed love, rather than red. Green. They'd match exactly, like they'd been made to be together.
Running a hand through his slicked back blonde hair, Draco opened his eyes.
The apple - his apple - was gone from the tree. There was an empty gap where it should have been, hollow, like the increasing pain Draco felt in his chest. He forced himself to be calm, tried desperately to grasp at the straws of rationality.
There would be an explanation for this. There was always an explanation. Perhaps he should ask his father - he always knew what to do.
Just as Draco resolved to hurry indoors to write a letter to Witch Weekly requesting advice, Harry Potter and his ridiculous friends walked past where he stood. The mudblood, Granger, was chomping on a beautiful green apple.
The roar of hatred and heartfelt pain Draco felt tremor through his body then was something he remembered for centuries.
He would have his revenge.