Summary: He keeps staring at you while in the library.

When you glance up from your book again, he's still looking at you with those amazingly gray eyes. You quickly try to concentrate again on your reading, keyword: try. It's seven in the afternoon, students are probably at supper. The library is almost deserted except for you two and some third-year writing furiously on a piece of parchment. The kid hasn't realized the staring contest you have going on with Draco Malfoy. Well, 'staring contest' is a bad word for it, because he's basically looking at you while you pretend not to notice. Truth is, he's been doing that for quite a few days, and you have no idea what the Merlin is going on. He isn't obvious or stalkery, but he's not shy either. Every time you two are in the same room, his eyes find your figure instantly. Oddly enough, you don't find it unpleasant. On the contrary, it's quite thrilling, and it makes your skin tinkle funnily.

You've told your best friend about it before, and they mentioned that maybe Malfoy wanted to ask you to the Yule Ball. You laughed at the insinuation. Does the Slytherin Prince really has an eye on you for that purpose? You thought he was going with Pansy Parkinson...

"Hey!" Sure enough, Draco is now standing right in front of you. However, he's not speaking to you, he wants the third-year's attention. The kid looks up, an annoyed look on his face, that is until he realizes who's talking to him. "Leave." Draco doesn't need to say it twice because the third-year gathers his things and scurries off. You're still dazzled by his power when he turns to you. "You're..." he says your name softly, "right?" You nod. You share a few classes with him, he surely knows your name, even though you don't really speak to each other... until now. "Right, well," he looks away, and a cute pink blush covers his cheekbones. What is going on? "Go to the Yule Ball with me?" The way he asks seems to be more a mandate than a request, but you let it slide because yes, the Slytherin Prince just asked you to the dance.

Your answer takes less than two seconds, "yes."

"Great," he says nonchalantly, as if he just did you a favor. "Wear something nice or I'll ditch you... I'll see you at six outside the great hall." You expect him to turn around and walk away in a cool manner, but he lingers at your table a moment longer. "By the way, you look very pretty today." He doesn't allow you to answer because he walks away, pink cheeks fiery with heat.

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