AN: This one-shot came from an idea that someone on a facebook fanpage had, and I couldn't help but write it out.

Through the shade of his long platinum hair, he watched with an ache in his heart as the woman he loved, but could never touch, walked to her table, happily chatting with her friends, not even glancing his way. Her rich red hair was the color of a beautiful sunset, and her eyes the color of warm molasses.

Thirteen year old Lucius Malfoy was startled out of his gaze toward the Gryffindor table by one of his school mates knocking into him. "Oi Malfoy, where's your head today?" The idiot asked.

Lucius chose to ignore the boy, and got up from the table to head outside.

Once he reached the great doors that let outside, Lucius took a left and sat in the shadows of a low hanging tree branch, and let his thoughts drift back to the red-headed witch of his dreams.

The Prewett family were pure-bloods, that of which he was sure his father would approve of. They were not, however, well off, or supporters of pure-blood supremacy, which he knew he father would not approve of.

Perhaps, he thought, if he could persuade her away from that dirty Weasley, the one with the great, disgusting obsession with muggles, that she would be more receptive of the ways of a proper pure-blood family.

Lucius looked up and saw the aforementioned Weasley heading up the walkway to the castle. Curious, he followed the carrot topped man, and Lucius found himself back in the Great Hall. To his astonishment, the wizard walked directly to the Gryffindor table and dropped to one knee.

His mouth went dry and his blood pressure skyrocketed as he watched the tears gather in the red-head's eyes as the Weasel spoke the words, "Molly, my love, would you be my wife?"

Lucius' hopes were dashed as his first love agreed to marry another man.

He turned and storming out of the castle, vowing then and there to spend the rest of his life attempting to show her just what she could have had, and just what she would be missing.