AN: Wrote it in an hour. Lots of fluff. And typos. Fluff and typos. 

this is a different writing style than I am used to. bear with me. 

It only makes sense you fall for Jessica Jung.

You were always in love with fairy tales and princesses as a child. You miss the times when your mother used to tuck you into bed at night and read you stories about pretty princesses with their perfect long blonde tresses that go down to their waist, beautiful flowing gowns that twirl prettily as they pranced about; their warm smiles with their even warmer hearts, and untouchable beauty beyond any other in the land.

You also loved the idea of true love. Of princes sweeping princesses off their feet. Of happily ever afters. And when you’re four years old, you can’t wait for your happy ever after. You pray every night for your prince charming to come take you away to live in a magical castle.

When your mother leaves you to go somewhere far away where you can never reach her again, you’re only six but you stop reading those fairytales. You refuse to listen when your father or your brother try to read them to you and bedtime stories stop being a thing.

The images of beautiful warm princesses however, stay with you in your dreams. And you still grasp onto the hope of a happily ever after.

When you’re ten, you’re a little older and it’s obvious you’re no princess.

You’re clumsy, always falling and hitting your knee against chairs or tables or anything really. And you like rolling in the dirt with your older brother and his friends. You don’t mind getting a little dirty.

Your hair is a bird’s nest. On a good day. You don’t have luscious long blonde hair that catch the light in such a way that it shines, that you shine. Your hair is dark brown and unruly, the tips curling at the end in a way that tickled your neck. Your brother once called you a mushroom and honestly, you couldn’t even be mad. The resemblance was kind of uncanny.

You kind of give up on your happily ever after because what kind of prince would want her? She’s no princess. Unlike the other kids, she doesn’t even have a mother to teach her how to dress prettily, or how to braid her hair. She only has her father and brother who both tell her to stay as far away from boys as possible. They are very adamant about it. So you stop hoping. Princesses aren’t real. Happily ever after’s aren’t real.

And then you’re eleven. And you find out you’re magical. Like, actually magical.

You’re going to a place called Hogwarts. It’s a funny name and you wrinkle your nose at it when you first hear it.  But as you press your face against the cool window pane staring at the castle in distance aboard a train with hundred of other kids like you, you realize you may not be a princess or have a prince, but you do get to go to a magical castle.

It’s only hours later when you realize princesses are real.

Because you’re looking at one. Staring shamelessly, really. But you can’t help yourself. You’d thought princesses weren’t real - that they are as made up as mermaids or unicorns (both of which are very much real you find out later on) - so you can’t stop staring.

The headmistress calls out your princesses’s name and you almost miss it because your heart is beating so loudly. But you’re just able to catch it.

Jessica Jung.

You watch, entranced, as the girl, slim, blonde, and really insanely beautiful - like woah, you really need to breathe, you should probably breathe - walks up to the hat.  It belts out “SLYTHERIN” a minute later and you watch completely smitten as Jessica  - wow, what a beautiful name. Jessica. Jessica. Jessi. - glides across the room to sit gracefully among a sea of green robes.

Your name is called later and you’re sorted into Hufflepuff. You smile and greet your new housemates, but the entire dinner, your mind is on the princess you just saw because wow, they’re real. They’re actually real.

You end up sitting behind your princess during Transfigurations and you already know you’re going to be absolutely screwed in this class because you can’t stop staring at her golden tresses. It’s like someone captured the sunlight and put it in her hair. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from blurting something stupid like “Does your hair glow in the dark? Does it have magical healing properties?”

Once, halfway through a lecture, you catch yourself unconsciously reaching out to touch it. Thankfully, you catch yourself. Or rather, McGonagall catches you in the middle of your weird and creepy act and asks you to recite the spell that’s supposed to turn a match into a needle.

You fumble for an answer, and barely get it out, heaving a deep breath when you do. It’s only once McGonagall has turned away from you that you settle your attention back to the blonde in front of you and you see her side profile.

You freeze because woah, her eyes are so pretty up close and woah, is she looking at you? No way. Your eye contact lasts for only a split second because your princess is turning back around to pay attention to the lecture and you know you should to but you’re a long goner. You don’t hear a single word that comes out of McGonagall’s mouth for the rest of the lecture. Honestly, it’s no different from the usual anyways.

You’re twelve and in your second year at Hogwarts when you realize that Jessica is a literal princess. Like actually.

Your Gryffindor friend, Taeyeon, tells you all about your princess. Jessica is a pureblood. She’s a Jung, one of the only twenty-eight pureblood families left in Britain. You honestly have no idea what that all means but it seems to impress everyone else. And that’s when you realize that it’s not just you that treat her like a princess. Everyone else does too. And for the first time in your life, you feel the stinging burn of jealousy.

You’re in your third year and you’re sitting at a Quidditch match. It’s not your first one, no you’ve been to every single game since you stepped into this magic castle, but it is the first one that your best friend Taeyeon is playing in.

It also happens to be the first game your princess is playing in too.

As you watch her fly, you’re reminded of the princesses your mother used to read to you about and you think of the long beautiful gowns that the princesses always wore. Jessica isn’t wearing a gown, but her robes still swirl around her beautifully and the wind blows through her hair in the way that renders you a little speechless and in awe.

And instantly, you’re a Slytherin fan. You cheer them in every one of their games, even the ones against Hufflepuff (though you’re more subtle about).

You’re thirteen when you wish you were like Jessica, a princess.

You’re in your fourth year when you end up being Jessica’s potions partners. And normally, that would’ve been enough to make you useless but you actually like potions - are really good at it too - and there’s a fire inside of you that makes you want to show off to her. You want to show her that you’re also….something. You may not be as pretty as Jessica, or as graceful, or as rich, or as pure blooded, but you are something.

It pays off because you’re rewarded with one of those rare smiles th