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Happy Birthday ...

What happens is that just when I thought my life was relatively normal, I had a boyfriend, good friends and stable studies, I was the world shit and he appeared to internautical help me in the solitude of the night, in the fantasies of walking down a London street luxurious evening, sad only as a Mary everyone knows it, and no, I do not intend to offend the Virgin that, God forgive me, and careless in his footsteps, his smile polite but cocky, bluish gray eyes and short hair, dressed perhaps as any mortal with a pair of jeans, a shirt wide and something to cherish if cold suggests.

Yes, because when the world turned its back on me and I had no hands and minds to grab your ass, I fell in love with Tom Felton, just as a fan knows how crazy and stupid, seeing as on YouTube video, photo Google, interviews, news. Everything was a small line of connection that someday I would know. They say that nothing is impossible, but I think that was invented by the Idealist, the dreamers like me to convince yourself that if you make enough effort, effort that deserves crazy and wild dream, one might could do it. But no. Although I imagine in that evening walking leisurely through the streets of London country, I know it will never happen, that I might never be there, he will never walk one evening only, no jeans or t wide, and his short hair and smile.

They also say that celebrities do not usually look at who is crazy about them, they are not interested in who fall motionless to his feet. Until Draco could rectifier that, yes. Those are the ones used for the moment, for "I'm at a party and I want to be with someone to meet the next day to another." No, I do not see Draco in Tom or vice versa, but I guess that disarm the ball of my story. I do not know if seeing him cry, I pass out or who knows that outrage. Sometimes I think I would like a fool standing there watching it and when you want to touch my autograph if you say my name, or else invent one out of shame that one day, if the level line and the gods we smile, remember my stupid face attached to my real name. Either way, keep me anonymous. I

a crazy fan, he a movie star beyond my reach.

And so saying it sounds a little more believable, a little Tom and Ximena, Chile and England and I, and I thin it fuller than normal healthy, he and I a Angeline Draco anyone. He's 20 years old and I 19 ... Because he was born exactly 3 months before me, one day of the month, and I dream sanardeses for that chance. The 22 have something special, something that only we know and recognize.

Happy Birthday Tom, maybe we are in another tiempo y lugar, en otras circunstancias... Y tal vez, sólo tal vez, nos conozcamos.

"Quiero que sepas, que aunque no te conozco, te quiero."

Si, te quiero ad infinitum ! ;D

Pd: We all know that his leanguage is this one, english, but mine not. Even I know a little bit about it... It's maybe a wall I've been destroying, maybe a broken wall for that big moment. Whatever. Happy Birthday Tom... All my words for you couldn't been the same in another leanguage. After all... You won't even read this.

Pd2: I'm seriously thinking about buying a cake...

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Reason # 4! ~

I've returned to my hometown, something cold, but happy to have spent 18 per Chillán, giving juice and going into a car driven by a blind couple who do not see the lights or cyclists (do not worry Mongas crazy, I love you like: *). And as I go to bed early because my head will explode, I leave the No. 4 reason why a spring hates Malfoy (Draco even more specifically).

And just giving credit to the student's presence Slytherin, just when it left his fingers slip from the stupid book and turned on his heel to leave, angry enough to not want to see the face of that old for a while, felt his little voice whispering.

-Oh ... "cried old apprehensive tone, almost sweet, adjusting his glasses First Hall, 6th shelf to the left, honey, and smiling as ever, returns to his work. I did not know he liked romance novels, Mr. Malfoy ends up adding, turning his eyes on the glasses at the boy, with a spark horribly mocking and amusing.

With concealed panic, mind and carefully read the first time the cover of the book above, but not think that would rather die before you know it, the gold letters engraved sarcastically chanted, "My first and only love."

started the book from the desktop, snorting and walked angrily to the shelf.

"Stupid novels," he repeated, thinking that the next time you cross the little girl would suffer from all known forms of torture by hot flashes and bad times that had happened.

But the bottom line came when he fell into an account he had begun to follow the game by giving away a smile or a wink. It was so damn handsome, so handsome, and had it more than clear-you could not afford not to enjoy a girl when he was bored. And since it was he who decided to take the stupid book ... better leave it the hell up and fade away, the girl would later ... After enjoying the spectacle that was taking place in the happy shelf n º 6.

He stopped dead in the hallway.

A pair of squat shoes, some socks slightly lowered at the same level, shapely legs. The

Slyhterin allowed more heat, even in that moment did not want. But what was wanted at that moment what he saw. Very

above the knees, the folds of a skirt that swayed to the beat a hip which could see a tiny, but existing at the end of the piece of skin-white-quite appealing. And following the path drawn by a framed waist more than normal because of a relatively large blouse that blessed body-sculpted, Malfoy thought, swallowing saliva, a raised arm with a finger going through the books in a rather high .

Something tickled in the stomach, or maybe a little lower.

The girl turned a couple of degrees your head for greater scope of titles. A playfully disheveled hair in a bun, curls rebels cayendo en la espalda. Color castaño.

Traga saliva otra vez.

–¡¿Tú?!

Hermione Granger se voltea intrigada. Se encuentra de golpe con un par de ojos grises algo desorbitados.

–¿Y ahora qué demonios te pasa, Malfoy?

Razón nº4: Las hormonas no distinguen sangre. Draco Malfoy está petrificadamente hastiado. ¿Pierde la razón?.

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* From the distant city of Chillán *

Sí, aún cuando me encuentro a kilómetros de mi hogar, yo, Angeline Anglyen, tiene que seguir jodiendo con su Draco Malfoy. Así que, sin rodeos, posteo las razones nº2 y 3, to which I have tuned a couple of details. Enjoy ~

held his body resting his hands on the rock behind his back, relaxing the back muscles, and occasionally throw a few inches of the tie. Blessed grumbled heat-airing the collar. Herbology class that stupid ...

And finish the sentence because the girl turns to noting that he finally gone. But before they call the "Thank you, Merlin", a new detail on the rock. The book.

repeatedly is passed hand through his hair, thinking that the scene could not be more ridiculous fairy tale. He now had to get up, pick up the book and keep it for the next opportunity in which to meet, said that an appointment would be appropriate to talk of life and knowledge, discovering and ... By Merlin. Enough. It takes two hands to the head. If it were not so insistent brat might not feel so overwhelmed by the issue. The letters every morning, looks nervous, an occasional laugh ...

When finally resolved to spend the day somewhere nicer, looks up removing the hands, your head feels weird. Curious, again plunges her fingers in her hair.

-Stupid

heat ... Reason No. 2: Spring deranges. Goodbye, hair gel. Draco Malfoy is fucking tired.

Annoyed at the end, rises suddenly from nowhere, trying to fix what your hands and the heat and disarmed and extremely rapid rate, and firm steps passing by the place where that girl watching him minutes before, pick up the book and is blessed walking without even say where he goes. And does it matter that the idiots or they are interested.

as heck do not think it had occurred before the cold aisles were going to give it some freshness, no torches, not many students. The heat of the greenhouses they should have atrophied head.

blithely keeps in his backpack hanging sweater in one hand. In the other, the book down with force. Fold into a corner, in another, its tiny silver threads swaying gracefully, unruly on his head. The shirt billowing, framing her slender figure and sign their young 16.

It felt dirty, spotless, urgently wanted a bath, fresh water. Grateful that the classes have finally finished that day.

comes to the library. The old book scent fills your nostrils, brilliant sunshine slipping through every window you view cega. A currency sentences about four students writing on the tables.

Without wishing to miss a second of your precious time there, in the dull environment, comes to Madame Pince.

"I come to put this book down," he says wearily, lifting his arms on the wood.
- And I ... Will always looove you ...!

raised an eyebrow. The woman did not listen, it sings in a song-and-such can hear romanticonas, cloying, fulsome, that everyone knows and likes, but he did not hate it. Muggle things, maybe. Please do not remind both the melody and lyrics. She kept repeating the last sentence with a shockingly off-key melody.
"Listen ...

-I will always ... Love youuuu!

and reaches a high note, even with how soft the spell, tune, dragged and shrill, extended, never ends, where his record is begging to best street, because the few students of the temple of silence up the view between unbelievers and annoying. She still lives

ordering the books in a pile on his desk to his right, ducking, bobbing slowly.

get tired of hearing the same thing. A Malfoy is zero hint of patience.

"Ooh ... I'll always, I'll always love youuuu.

Reason 3: The nasty people suddenly become agreeable. Draco Malfoy is disturbingly blase. He loses his temper.