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An Apple Called Apple

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He could almost feel the weight of the apple in his pocket. She wasn't there, though, and never again would she be.


It all started at lunch, last week. Draco was listening to his gang of Slytherins go on about something or other, when a certain someone caught his eye.

She was perfect - round, smooth, and impossibly green all over. She was so shiny that she practically glowed. Draco could have sworn that time stopped as he gazed at it - her - and he was in love.

He quickly pocketed her in fear that someone else would get their claws on her.

Apple, as he called her, looked so delicious, though, that he couldn't keep homicidal thoughts out of his head. The blonde boy could just imagine taking a bite out of her, her sweet-tart juices dripping down his chin as he takes bite after bite of crisp, pale flesh.

But no - he couldn't. Apple was his one and only; he couldn't do that to her or himself. For days, though, images of her flesh, half-eaten, flitted though his mind. At night, Draco would wake up to dreams of committing the ghastly crime that were so vivid that he'd check his underwear drawer in fear that he sleep-ate her.

Which made the day's event so tragic - on the way to Care of Magical Creatures, Draco reached into this pocket, drew out Apple, and sank his teeth into her succulent flesh. He hadn't meant to do it. She was just too beautiful and delicious and he was thoroughly horrified. His one and only, his one true love, his soul mate... dead, by his own hand. Er, teeth.

Draco couldn't believe it. He glanced around, scared that someone knew what had just transpired, that someone knew what he had just done. How he had just murdered his girlfriend, his confidant, his partner. Quickly, he threw her into a bush.

He had to do it, he reasoned. Apple did deserve a proper burial, but she would have been long gone by the time he could sneak away to hold a funeral. Draco just couldn't trust himself not to consume the rest of her, her crisp, tart juiciness...

And boy, had she tasted good. It was like heaven. An apple like Apple could bring an entire empire to it's knees, could make even the devil see the error of his ways (Apple was just that good.). She was the crispest, greenest, palest, shiniest, and most scrumptious apple he had seen, let alone taste, or even imagined.

Draco spent the rest of the day, the night, the week, and hell, even the month in deep remorse and sorrow. When a fellow Slytherin; his potions teacher, Snape; or another concerned teacher asked him what was wrong, he would mutter something unintelligible about a beautiful girl, heart break, horrid deeds, and an apple.


Eventually, Draco got over his first love, he would tell himself, although he would still feel the urge to save particularly green apples from the jaws of evil, apple-eating fiends.