WHERE IT ALL BEGAN:
11 October 2003.
Emma couldn’t sleep.
She had been tossing and turning for the past three hours since she had climbed up her bed at nine o’clock in the evening, but sleep was still evasive. Filming for The Prisoner of Azkaban movie had wrapped up five hours ago, but her heart still wouldn’t stop racing, and her mind swam with too much questions that made her quest for sleep much more elusive than normal.
In her thirteen years of existence, this was the first time she had felt a flurry of emotions that she had so often heard being described by lovesick teenagers everywhere; her face felt hot every time he was near, and her heart would have this fluttery feeling that descended all the way down to her stomach. He was the first boy she had been physically aware of, the first one that made her aware that she was no longer a child, not yet a full grown woman, but something in between.
Emma Watson had fallen in love for the first time, and the victim of her infatuation was no other than Tom Felton.
Where It All Began
11 October 2003.
Emma couldn’t sleep.
She had been tossing and turning for the past three hours since she had climbed up her bed at nine o’clock in the evening, but sleep was still evasive. Filming for The Prisoner of Azkaban movie had wrapped up five hours ago, but her heart still wouldn’t stop racing, and her mind swam with too much questions that made her quest for sleep much more elusive than normal.
In her thirteen years of existence, this was the first time she had felt a flurry of emotions that she had so often heard being described by lovesick teenagers everywhere; her face felt hot every time he was near, and her heart would have this fluttery feeling that descended all the way down to her stomach. He was the first boy she had been physically aware of, the first one that made her aware that she was no longer a child, not yet a full grown woman, but something in between.
Emma Watson had fallen in love for the first time, and the victim of her infatuation was no other than Tom Felton.
~
13 April 2003.
“Hey Emma, mind if I join you?”
Emma’s breath hitched upon recognizing his voice from behind her. She had been standing under a huge fir tree for the past half hour to seek shelter from the sudden drizzle that very nearly soaked her. Schooling her features into an indifferent expression, she turned to face him.
“Hi Tom,” she said shyly, her eyes taking in his magnificent form. His platinum-coloured locks were slightly damp from the rain and had curled rather attractively over his cerulean eyes. With a tentative smile, she scooted over to give him room under the protective shade of the tree. “Come. I’d be glad to share my tree with you until the rain lets up,”
Tom gave her a heart-stopping smile that immediately made her cheeks heat up. “So it’s ‘your’ tree, huh?” he raised a brow, his friendly smile still lingering on the corners of his lips. “Very well. Here’s a token of my appreciation, then.” He surprised her by wrapping his Slytherin jumper around her shoulders.
Emma could smell his cologne from the jumper, and she wanted nothing more than to bury her nose into the cotton material and inhale his addictive scent. Instead she forced herself to look into his eyes and tried to slow down the staccato beat of her heart. “Thank you,” she answered breathlessly.
Tom gave her another grin in response, not seeming to notice that his hand had accidentally grazed Emma’s arm when he inched closer to her side. Emma did though, and she was overcome with an urge to entwine her fingers with his. The thought rattled her to the core, mainly because it was the first time she ever had those kind of musings.
And with Tom too, no less. He was three years older than her, which made a world of difference at the moment. She was at an awkward age where she caught between being a child and an adult, whereas he had already surpassed that stage and was very much on his way to manhood. She knew he wouldn’t see her as anything more than a young adolescent with a juvenile crush on him, and that heartbreaking thought made her want to curl up in a ball and cry.
“You seem to be deep in thought,” Tom’s observation snapped Emma out of her depressing reverie. “Is everything okay?” the genuine concern in his blue eyes made her admire him all the more. Why was he being so nice to her? But then again, he was nice to everyone. Vaguely she wondered if the other girls on the set also felt the same level of fascination as she did for Tom. She felt her reckless side kicking in, influencing her to take a risk and admit that she liked him. Her rational side, however, was adamant that she keep her feelings to herself.
She gave a little shrug. “Yeah, I guess… Just been doing some thinking lately,”
Tom gazed down at her with a mix of interest and worry. “About what, exactly? Maybe I can help you,” he said empathically.
“I think… I think I fancy someone,” the words rushed out of her mouth before she could think the better of it. She saw Tom’s brows rise in surprise and curiosity, and the way he stared slack-jawed at her for approximately five seconds.
“Oh,” was his initial reply. “So who’s the lucky man?”
Emma looked away, afraid that he might see the truth in her eyes. “Someone who would never like me back,” she mumbled, cheeks burning with embarrassment. The silence that followed her statement was so uncomfortable that she was tempted to rush out in the rain and run away like the coward she felt like.
Why, oh, why did unrequited love hurt so much?
She very nearly gasped when she felt Tom’s hand cupping the side of her face, gently forcing her to gaze up at him. His eyes were warm and dilated with an emotion she couldn’t put a name to as he looked down at her. “Only a fool would not like you, Emma,” he told her softly. “You’re pretty, smart, and a lot more special than the rest of womanhood put together,”
Emma’s heart was racing so fast she was half afraid he could hear the erratic beating against her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but his hand suddenly left her face, and he had already taken a step away from her. He peered up the sky, which was no longer showering them with pelts of rain.
“Thanks for letting me share ‘your’ tree, Emma,” he gave her a mock salute as he turned to leave. “And if the bloke you fancy tells you he doesn’t feel the same way, feel free to tell me so I can pummel him to oblivion,” with a jaunty wink and grin, he turned on his heel and left her standing alone under the fir tree, clutching his jumper around her like a lifeline.
“I’d like to see you try to pummel yourself to oblivion, Tom.” She murmured to herself.
~
14 April 2003.
“Why are you wearing a Slytherin jumper?” Dan asked suspiciously, his eyes falling on the green and silver-lined sweater that was wrapped around her waist. They were back to shooting one of their scenes in the forest, and David had just finished giving them tips on how to act more candidly in front of the camera. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tom standing a few feet away from them, fully absorbed with the script he was reading.
Emma inwardly cursed when she felt blood rush in her cheeks. “I—well—um, Tom lent it to me because it was raining, um, the other day,” she replied, trying to sound casual, but Dan, being one her close friends since their first film together, knew her better than most people did. A teasing grin broke out in his face, and his eyes twinkled with mischief.
“It’s—oh, stop looking at me like that!” Emma wailed in discomfiture, making Dan laugh. “He doesn’t like me, okay?”
“But you like him,” Dan said knowingly, looking smug at his perceptiveness. Emma was scowling at him, but did not deny his accusation. “It’s been quite obvious, Em, ever since we started filming this year,”
Emma’s face fell. “Do you think he knows?” she asked in a panicked tone. Dan finally seemed to take pity on her, so he gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder before answering.
“To be honest Em… I think he does,”
~
15 April 2003
“Happy Birthday Emma!” had been everyone’s greeting on her 13th birthday. She couldn’t be happier that day; Somehow, Dan and Rupert’s conniving with the rest of the Harry Potter cast members gave her the most unforgettable surprise she had ever received.
Tom had been the one to carry her birthday cake, and he even sang a rather sweet rendition of the “Happy Birthday” song to her.
Emma hoped she wasn’t blushing too hard during that moment. Tom’s singing voice was doing strange things to her tummy. Not to mention her heart and lungs.
“Make a wish,” he murmured while he lit the candle atop her cake.
Emma gave him a smile before blowing out the candle, her fingers crossed as she silently made her wish.
“What did you wish for?” he asked while they sat side by side on the stairs, eating their slices of cake with a cup of tea.
“Happiness.”
She could feel him staring at her intensely. “Aren’t you already?” he asked with a guarded note in his tone.
Emma gave him a sidelong glance, taking in his handsome face and his obvious concern for her, and realized that she was indeed happy. She was happy because of a lot of things, but mostly because of him.
Gathering all her courage and maintaining a nonchalant demeanour, she reached over and laid her hand on top of his. “I am, thanks to you.” She bravely met his eyes straight on, although the crack in her composure showed on her flushed cheeks. Was it her imagination, or were his ears suddenly red? His breathing seemed to have ceased as well. “And everyone else…” she added hastily, and the spell was broken. He gave a nervous-sounding laugh and pulled his hand away to rake an errant blond lock back from his face.
“Happy Birthday, Emma.”
~
25 July 2003.
“So, how are you faring with this bloke you fancy?” Tom asked her while they were taking a break from their scene together, where she had the opportunity to smack him on the face for all the heartache she got from her infatuation with him during the past four months. None of it was his fault though, so she could hardly blame him. How could she fault him for being charming, sweet, and terribly handsome?
Emma gave him a sidelong glance, wondering when she would stop reacting like a volatile chemical at the brink of explosion when confronted with his presence. This was one thing she hated about being a teenager. Her hormones always got the better of her. “He still doesn’t like me,” she said flatly, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Maybe he’s gay,” Tom offered in a teasing tone, but Emma couldn’t smile back. Was he really that naïve or was this his way of torturing her? He quickly sobered up upon seeing her serious expression though. “Ah, Emma. If that bloke couldn’t appreciate you for what you are, then he’s not worth it,” he told her in a soothing voice. “There are a lot of other guys who would give an arm and a leg to get a chance to be with you, so don’t fret. You’re too young to be troubled by a wanker who doesn’t know what he’s missing,”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his speech, so she did both instead. Tears leaked out from her eyes, but laughter bubbled in her throat as she shook her head at him. Her thirteen year-old self could no longer handle the stress of being infatuated with him. He was literally driving her crazy. “You’re really daft, Tom,” she burst out, rising from her seat. “But thanks for personally telling me that you’re not worth it,” her bottom lip trembled, and she pivoted on her heel and fled before she could see his horrified reaction.
~
“You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!”
Emma prodded her wand against his throat with more force than usual, and he coughed out from the pressure on his Adam’s apple.
“Cut!” David hollered, and Emma stepped back, lowering her wand and turning to the perplexed-looking director. “Emma, I think you need a break. And you too,” he turned to Tom, who was gingerly stroking his throat. “We’ll continue this in five minutes, so settle whatever it is you kids need to settle,”
Emma immediately felt the guilt upon seeing the bruise on Tom’s throat, but as much as she wanted to grovel at his feet and apologize, she still had her pride to cling on to. Dan and Rupert steered her towards a secluded area behind some huge boulders, both muttering comforting words that touched her a bit.
“Laying it a bit thick, aren’t you, Em?” Rupert asked. “Did you and Tom have a fight or something?”
Emma shook her head, trying to hold back the sting of tears in her eyes. Dan pulled her to him for a hug, while Rupert rubbed her shoulder consolingly.
“Maybe she’s on her monthly,” she heard Dan whisper to Rupert, who nodded in agreement.
Hesitantly she pulled away from her friends’ comforting arms. “I guess I need to apologize to him,” she said gruffly. The two boys nodded in unison, so she walked over to where he was lounging at.
“I’m sorry.” She said, and his head swivelled towards her direction. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—”
He raised a hand to halt her tirade. “Apology accepted,” he answered with his usual charming smile. “I think I should be the one apologizing though,”
Emma’s heart started thumping again. The last thing she wanted was for him to confront her about her outburst earlier. She didn’t think she could bear his rejection.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. “And please, I don’t want to talk about it any longer.”
“But I—”
“Tom! Emma! Time to continue this scene!” David waved his arms to get their attention. Emma couldn’t be more grateful for the director’s interruption during that moment. Without bothering to wait for Tom to continue what he was about to say, she turned and jogged towards where the other cast members were waiting.
~
26 July 2003.
She could tell it was him even from the way he knocked on the door of her dressing room. She made no move to answer the door from her makeshift bed, however.
“Emma, I know you’re in there,” came Tom’s voice from the other side of the door. “We need to talk,”
She did not reply, although she sat up and rubbed the remnants of tears from her eyes. “I don’t want to,” she croaked out.
“Please.”
The urgency in his voice made her cross the room and open the door without thinking fully about the consequences.
Tom stood uncertainly in front of her, his expression nervous. “Emma, I—”
“There’s no need to explain anything,” she told him firmly. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let this crush get out of hand—”
“Listen to me—”
“And I don’t want you to pity me or anything, because I—”
“No, Emma—”
“I need to accept the fact that you won’t like me back, and that maybe I will find someone else to fancy when—”
He decided to shut her up with his lips. On hers. The kiss they shared was quick, chaste, and sweet.
“I like you, Emma.”
~
A/n: So yeah, this turned out a bit long, but I have no regrets. I am on a roll today, you hear me? ;)
(Source: iamhermionemalfoy)
