Heat Wave

A/N: I am well aware that as you read this story it is going to seem somewhat cliché and slow-moving, but please know that I am warning you, reader, that this is fluffy. Our well-known potterverse characters are ever so slightly out of character, and I've manipulated the plot enough that Voldemort is not a character of concern. In fact, I don't plan on mentioning his name, or death eaters, explicitly. At all. Ever. Sorry for people who love in depth plots (like myself). That being said, I can assure you in my most humble opinion that this is a quality fanfiction, and one that I hope you will enjoy and won't gnash your teeth over about misspelled words and inexcusable grammatical mistakes.
On with the show! :-D


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Since Christmas break, Draco Malfoy had had a secret affair. Everyone knew about it, he did nothing to hide that he snuck away several nights a week, appeared in the corridors disheveled and flushed mere footsteps away from an abandoned classroom or broom closet. What he did hide was with whom this affair was being carried on. It was the scandal of Hogwarts; students who were desperate to find any means of amusing themselves outside of studying for finals, OWLs, or NEWTs. No one could figure out, after months of watching and speculating who the mystery woman – or man – was. Several girls acted the part, telling their History Class in excited whispers just how good Draco Malfoy was with his serpent tongue, but after both Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot exclaimed such fantasies happened the night before, at a clearing by the lake and in a class room just outside the kitchens at the same time, and that he lasted all night, when Malfoy was clearly seen by no less than 10 people in the library, and then the early risers at breakfast the next morning, talky girls decided to opt for the “let them assume” strategy.

By Easter, the Gryffindor seventh year boys were taking bets on whether it was Crabbe, Goyle, or Millicent Bulstrode that made Malfoy whistle in Care of Magical Creatures. Stakes were high with Goyle in the lead, but when Malfoy walked into the Great Hall the first day back at classes after the week break and winked lecherously at Harry Potter’s Ginny Weasley, who then proceeded to blush furiously in an uncharacteristic way, all bets were called off in lieu of new talks that Famous Potter’s girlfriend was the illicit mistress. After two weeks of this festering gossip, it was squished with reasoning and physical force by Harry and Ron, and all three of their reputations were back to normal. Ginny was still a hot topic, and girls from fifth year and up soon swore that if she wasn’t the girl, than she must know who was. When approached, she unabashedly told them to get a life and turned to kiss Harry so as to embarrass them away. When Romilda Vane asked, Ginny told her to check the Astronomy Tower that night, and perhaps jump off of it if she really wanted to know. She then proceeded to snog Harry without shame.

Soon May was burning out triumphantly at Hogwarts. The weather seemed to smolder everything. The students, in attempts to further themselves from the scorching stones of the castle, found themselves at the lake or in the shade of the trees on the very closest edge of the Forbidden Forest.

One pair of students bared the heat in the slightly cooler dungeons of the Slytherin common room.

“It’s boiling here! She won’t even touch me if I’m already wilted like some Irish cabbage!” Draco Malfoy was reclined on a bed, hopelessly trying not to move.

“You’re half dressed and practically see-through. You’re not allowed to whine. You have also displaced me from my bed, so I refuse to help you.”

“I will have a reason to whine when I finally get finished. I’ll be the same as you.” Draco finally sat up and grinned at Blaise Zabini. His friend did not humor him with a look or a question, but sat in the upholstered arm chair across the room and cleaned his nails with deep interest. Draco scowled and made bigger movements to gain Blaise’s attention.

“I hate to do this to you, mate,” Draco said, and with a flourished wave pulled a black turtleneck sweater over his body. Blaise finally looked up haphazardly.

“Phwah! Is she making you wear that? Is she actually torturing you or something?”

Draco’s sneer only became more sinister.

“Wouldn’t you like to know. And for your information, she happens to fancy me in black. Says it makes me look classy.”

“Yes, and you definitely look classy like a – what was it? – a ‘wilted Irish cabbage’? She seems to have forgotten that there is no ack in the wizarding world.”

Draco pulled a blank face. “A what?”

“An ack. It’s this thing that muggles put in their windows that blows cold air into their houses on hot days. They do have some ways around magic that could be admired if they weren’t so barbaric.”

“It sounds like you’ve been writing an essay for Muggle Studies,” Draco scoffed.

“Know thy enemy,” Blaise quoted easily, settling back to study his nails.

Draco fidgeted as quietly as he could with the neck of his sweater and pushing his hair out of his face. With one last huff, he caught Blaise’s attention again.

“Why don’t you just tell everyone who she is? It’s the last three weeks of school; everyone in our year is too busy with NEWTs to care, and everyone else would probably be happy to stop talking about it.”

“No they wouldn’t. They need this, why would they want to give up talking about the admirable Draco Malfoy?”

“So you’re keeping her a secret to boost your ego?” Blaise raised an eyebrow, still skeptical, “I never knew you were that deflated, Draco. And here I was, trying to believe you were nice enough to not tell anyone just because she asked you to.”

“As much as I’d love to stay and discuss this psychological conundrum with you, I really have to go,” Draco rose and went to clap Blaise on the shoulder, “she’s waiting for me – hot, sweaty, and wanting.”

As he walked out the door, Blaise called after him: “At least let me know before the end of term!” He merely smiled to himself and strutted out of the commons entrance.