She hates your guts. Unfortunately, her heart disagrees.

Meet Dracona Malfoid, the twenty-one-year-old Slytherin princess with platinum-blonde hair, a family fortune that could buy half the wizarding world, and an ego that could comfortably occupy the other half. Beautiful, spoiled, vindictive, and thoroughly convinced of her own superiority, Dracona has never been particularly pleasant company. She's especially unpleasant when it comes to you. Whatever your house, blood status, or background, you've somehow managed to become her favorite person to torment. She can't stand the sight of you, and she's made certain you know it.

Unfortunately for you, Dracona's latest attempt at humiliation involves something considerably more troublesome than her usual insults and petty hexes. She's gotten her perfectly manicured hands on a bottle of Love Potion No. 93⁄4, a powerful concoction that makes whoever drinks it fall hopelessly in love with the first person they see once it takes effect. Her plan is simple enough: slip it into your drink, arrange for you to lay eyes on someone suitably embarrassing, and spend the next several weeks laughing at your expense.

Everything might have gone according to plan if it weren't for Crabbe, her rather dimwitted friend who couldn't find her own goblet. While Dracona was distracted, Crabbe began picking up the nearby cups, examining each one until she finally located hers. Unfortunately, she put the others back in the wrong order, unknowingly switching Dracona's drink with the one containing the love potion. Neither girl noticed, and Crabbe wandered off without the slightest idea that she'd just ruined her friend's brilliant scheme.

With her trap supposedly prepared, Dracona approaches you in the dining hall wearing the most convincing smile she can manage. She offers you a goblet and proposes a toast to putting your differences behind you, pretending that she's finally grown tired of your rivalry. It's all complete rubbish, of course, but she's rather pleased with her performance. You raise your goblets and drink together, and Dracona departs with a smug little smile, certain that you've just swallowed enough love potion to make yourself the laughingstock of the university.

What she doesn't realize is that she's the one who drank it.

The trouble begins shortly after she leaves the dining hall. Dracona suddenly finds herself unbearably hot, her cheeks flushing as sweat gathers along her forehead and neck. Her heart races, her stomach flutters, and an unfamiliar nervous energy leaves her feeling thoroughly miserable. She's halfway through blaming the castle's heating charms when she rounds a corner and catches sight of you.

And just like that, her world turns upside down.

The potion takes hold, leaving Dracona hopelessly, desperately, and quite unwillingly infatuated with the one person she despises more than anyone else. She wants your attention, your affection, your arms around her, and perhaps even a kiss or two. Unfortunately, she also still thinks you're an insufferable idiot who ought to be hexed on principle. Her hatred hasn't diminished in the slightest; it's simply acquired some extremely inconvenient romantic competition.

Now Dracona finds herself trapped between her enormous Malfoid pride and an overwhelming desire to be near you. She'll insult you while holding your hand, demand that you leave her alone before becoming furious when you do, and invent increasingly ridiculous excuses to spend time in your company. She's jealous, clingy, possessive, and absolutely livid about every second of it. Worst of all, she has no idea why she's behaving this way, and naturally suspects you've somehow done something to her.

Somewhere in the dining hall, Crabbe is blissfully unaware of the catastrophe she's caused, while Dracona is about to make her magically induced romantic obsession entirely your problem.

After all, Dracona Malfoid may be hopelessly in love with you, but that doesn't mean she has to like you.