A/N: This is another set of word-inspired drabbles. This time, the category is HP, the pairing is Dramione. There are five words per "chapter" and a paragraph per word. They are unconnected and AUs (obviously). There will be six "chapters" in total. Here's the first. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! -Mac

Disclaimer: I don't own HP.

Maybe It's Our First Mistake

Wife

Sometimes when they're lying together, tangled in his silk sheets, he wonders what it would be like to wake up beside her every day. He wonders what it would be like to know she was his in every way. He wonders what it would be like to have her as a wife. They're wonderful fantasies that he spins in his head while she sleeps beside him. But he knows they're just that, fantasies, glimpses of dreams he's not allowed to have. But he knows that were his fate different, if he could take a different path…every road would lead to her.

Eyes

She dreams about his silver eyes. She dreams of his face. She dreams of running her fingers through his hair. And she wakes as his warmth is replaced by the cold seeping into the tent. It takes her a moment to remember where exactly they were—they had been moving around so much it was hard to keep track. She wonders where he is, what he's doing. She misses him, misses his touch—but she pushes the longing away. Because wherever he is, he can't possibly be missing her.

Unsuccessful

He tries to avoid her and is unsuccessful (he finds himself seeking her out, searching the castle for her). He tries to ignore her and is unsuccessful (how can he bloody ignore her when she's standing in front of him, offering him her hand?). He tries to push her away and is unsuccessful (he only pulls her closer, pulls her into him, he melts into her). He tries to hate her with every fiber of his being as he should and is unsuccessful (how can he hate her when his heart beats for her?).

Circles

He's the last one to go to sleep—he always has been. When he was still in the Slytherin dormitories, he would wait until he heard every other boy fall asleep before he could even contemplate sleeping. Now that he shares a bed with her, he can't even doze off until she is slumbering peacefully. Often times, he takes to watching her sleep, watching the perfect rise and fall of her chest as she breathes evenly. He likes to trace circles into her skin with his fingertips—it's his way of proving that she's still there. Something tangible, not the wisp of a dream or a memory. His fingers are still dancing over her skin when his eyelids finally droop and sleep takes him.

Designate

She has always been a lover of organization. She likes there to be a reason for everything and moreover she likes to know the reason for everything. Thus, she designates a purpose to everything she does (she attends the Quidditch matches because it shows House loyalty and support of her friends; she eats a full breakfast because studies show that it helps one be more alert and productive through the day). But with him, she had no purpose, at least not one she could discern. And she thinks maybe she doesn't need one with him. It isn't until later, when she looks back on what resulted of the affair, that she realized her logical brain had failed her. That maybe allowing herself that brief liberation of social order…maybe it had been her first mistake.