Sucker Love

Chapter 2 • Draco






Chapter 2
• Draco

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I looked at her. She was beautiful. I’d never have
admitted it outright in front of her seductive facial expressions, but she was
magnificent. Her figure, her predator-like movements much resembling my own,
the sway of her perfect hips.

 

God, I wanted her.

 

And she knew it. And she knew that I knew she knew it. She
was like that – cunning and scheming like there was no tomorrow. And sometimes
there wasn’t a tomorrow – just one luscious today with her, forever lasting and
sweet like raspberry vodka.

 

I narrowed my eyes at her and reclaimed my rightful
cigarette from her expert lips. I could’ve kissed her. I wanted to, that’s true
but I didn’t If I did, she’d win. Or she’d count it as a win.

 

It’s always been a game with us. An everlasting, pulsating
game like erotic tennis – and the ball was in my court. Perhaps it was in hers,
but rules are for sheep – the sheep who believed in love and sentimental crap
like that. I didn’t.

 

I’d never been ‘burned’ in the air quote ‘dance of love’
but was hardly a romantic. Those words are nothing but a weak person’s way of
escaping an inevitable truth – love doesn’t exist.

 

“I don’t know if I can be seen with you anymore,
Parkinson,” I said airily, deciding to up the stakes a little – or at least get
her worked up. “It might fracture my reputation if word got out that I
associate with Head Girl goody-two-shoes.”

 

Pansy looked at me – that, ‘Oh, shut the fuck up’ look –
and pushed me against the clammy hallway wall. I smirked. She smirked back.

 

“I have a proposition for you, baby,” the blonde beauty
revealed. She hadn’t acknowledged my taunting with so much as an ear flick. She
must’ve been up to something. I was intrigued.

 

“I’m listening.” I didn’t seem like I cared even if she
had the seed to a Galleon-growing tree in her pocket. But she knew that I was
interested – she always knew. It was scary how well we knew each other inside
out.

 

“I want you to...” she trailed off, her shimmering green
eyes traveling north for a brief second while she thought of an appropriate
word, “...welcome back someone for me. She should be arriving tonight, perhaps
a bit later since she wasn’t in the Great Hall.”

 

I snorted. Welcome back my balls. I knew what she wanted
and I asked the obvious. I did, after all, have strds.rds.

 

“Welcome back, huh? Who is this chick and why would you
want me to...” I trailed off thoughtfully much like her previous action,
“...aide her?” The killer question: “What’s in it for me?”

 

Pansy’s smirk turned innocent, her emerald eyes suddenly
shining with naivety.

 

“Oh, it’s someone you, my boy, know very well,” she
drawled surly, exhaling one hot breath from her lips that tickled my earlobe. I
suppressed a groan. “I never personally fancied her, but I thought maybe you’d
take a stab,” she thrust her hips towards mine, “at her. Hm? How about it?”

 

“Who?” I repeated. It was really getting to me that she
wouldn’t tell me who her friend was. I hated being a pawn in Pansy’s wars and I
had a feeling that I was right on target with this one.

 

Pansy grinned.

 

“Parvati Patil ring a bell?”

 

I raised a casual eyebrow. I knew what this was about. I
recognized the pawn material.

 

“Still have your knickers in a twist about that Seamus
bloke?”

 

That did it. I was waiting for Ms. Innocent to make an
exit. It didn’t suit either of the personalities in the hallway. Pansy’s
serene, calm expression was gone from beautiful face in an instant. She slapped
her palms on either side of my head against the ragged edges of the stony
hallway. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move. I didn’t overly care.

 

“I went to a lot of lengths pleasing Dean last summer and
what does he do? Fall for the nearest tramp with pigtails in her hair!” Pansy
was now outraged as she remembered her past boyfriend. Well, boyfriend if you
used the expression very loosely, her eyes dark and flashing dangerously like
claps of lighting. “Bitch.”

 

I rolled my eyes and held Pansy’s glare afterwards. Like
I’d said, I had standards.

 

“No, Pans, sorry,” I said, not sounding one bit
apologetic. Removing myself from what to a total stranger would’ve looked like
a compromising position, I set off down the hallway to the Slytherin common
room. I always loved how secluded it was, down in the dungeons. I heard her
follow. It wasn’t an angry pace; just annoyed.

 

“Why the hell not?” she demanded, her eyes flashing
warningly once again. I stopped dead in my tracks without turning around, then
thought better of it and continued walking.

 

“Too easy,” I explained calmly, raising my hand in the air
dismissively. “I need a challenge, not some twit that stole your little fuck
toy once upon a time.”

 

Pansy snorted, obviously disgusted. “Oh, and Ginny Weasley
was a challenge.”

 

I smiled that smile that got the aforementioned Weasley
into my bed. “Weasley and Potter were getting on my nerves in Potions. Had to
let off some steam, did I not?”

 

I stopped briskly by the stone gargoyle that guarded the
entrance to my common room.

 

“Serpent fire.” Walking into the green and silver
Slytherin mascot of a room, I walked straight to my dormitory. I knew she’d be
on my heels.

 

“I’m not doing it, Pansy.” I finalized it, no hint of
humor of amusement in my voice. “Desperate and needy isn’t my style.” I could
tell that was an easy blow so I stopped Pansy before she commented.
“Besides...I already have a challenge in mind.”

 

I turned around, put out my nearly used cigarette in a
silver ashtray by my bead and saw the same expression on Pansy’s face as I
predicted she’d have. Interest. Amusement. Intrigue. We were so alike.

 

“Really? Do tell,” she prodded, though I could tell that
she was only mildly interested in my new conquest. That was another thing we
were alike in – we put ourselves first. I knew that she was waiting for me to
reveal my new game plan simply so that she could put it to shame and convince
me to seduce Parvati for her. I knew that the Parvati situation wasn’t going to
shine anywhere with me. As for putting my plan to shame – well, that would take
some skill.

 

I sat down in a white leather armchair by my desk and
turned toward Pansy, my fingers lightly touching under my chin like I was
pondering some big mystery of the world. In all fairness, I sort of was.

 

“Well, as you might be aware, there’s someone else besides
your dear friend Parvati arriving tonight to begin seventh year in this here
learning institution,” I drawled as if my voice had to saunter over to Pansy’s
ears with great effort. “Someone who failed to catch my attention many times
before but how now has become quite interesting as of recent occurrences.”

 

Pansy’s amusement had shifted from mild to moderate. Her
eyes were now dancing with curiosity and as she sauntered straight at me with a
rare feline grace, her lips curled into a mischievous grin. Resting her knees
on either side of mine, she stat down on my lap slowly, then leaned forward and
began nipping my earlobe with her teeth.

 

“Recent occurrences, huh?” she asked breathily.

 

I closed my eyes enjoying the little pleasures of life.
“Oh, yeah,” I answered in ecstasy.

 

“Who has caught my Big Bad Draco’s interest?” she asked
teasingly, now moving down to my neck.

 

I mumbled something I wasn’t even sure I understood at the
moment.

 

“Who now?” she pried.

 

“Granger,” I answered, my eyes still closed. Suddenly,
there was no touch. I realized what I’d said and tried to suppress a grin. I
meant to break the news to Pansy a bit more subtly but it didn’t quite work out
that wonderful way.

 

“Mudblood? You’re interested in Mudblood?” Pansy’s eyes
widened and her posture stiffened but her tone remained the same – breathy no
longer – but the same. It was the way she was – to remain on top, to rule, you
couldn’t show weakness. Ever.

 

But I could detect the anger, the outrage. That was
weakness.

 

And to say that I didn’t expect it either would be
complete bullshit. It’s the Slytherin way to react that way about an alleged
Mudblood. And although Pansy was utterly without a doubt above them all – and
convinced of it, too – she still continued to possess one of their biggest
flaws of all: the ‘Pureblood is best’ tendency.

 

Now, I was not to say a righteous White Hat that believed
all witches and wizards are equal and all that crap. But I was man enough to
admit that it wasn’t far from it. I was from a Pureblood family and obviously
didn’t mingle with Muggles too much so, naturally, I wasn’t keen on Mudbloods.
However, as I previously mentioned, I was from a Pureblood family. I
knew that being honored for my fucking blood type wasn’t all it was cracked up
to be.

 

My father was a bastard, my grandfather far worse than my
dad, and my grandma his wench. My far-off, distant relatives – that I seemed to
be gaining rapidly on a regular basis – were no better. And they were all
Voldemort’s butt monkies, no less. That’s another thing I couldn’t stand about
Purebloods. They all seemed to possess not one ounce of brainpower that would
possibly help them comprehend Voldemort’s true intentions. He was a smart –
insand and loony – but definitely a smart fellow that used their asses, helped
them fix their wands a few times to convince them that they’re important to
him, then killed them. He played the Death Eaters’ asses like a couple of deals
of Blackjack and a margarita.

 

I respected Voldemort’s intelligence in that matter but he
wasn’t about to change. And I wasn’t going to be his willing toilet paper. And
I had enough balls to admit that Purebloods were just as big a pain in the ass
as Mudbloods – if not more so.

 

Pansy had yet to realize it.

 

“Yeah,” I said carelessly, then added, “the conquest
– is the Mudblood.”

 

Pansy examined me closely and - if I had guessed – was about to comment on the ethics –
Pureblood ethics – of it all. Then she stopped and raised a skeptic eyebrow.

 

“Granger’s coming back?”

 

There we go, I though contentedly. Some intelligent
conversation I was ready and willing to participate in.

 

“Mm-hm,” I replied, shifting as Pansy began massaging my
shoulders. She was apparently getting used to the idea. Or at least getting
past it. “Overheard McGonagall and Flitwick talking about her schedule this
morning.”

 

Pansy nodded solemnly while continuing to massage my
shoulders and base of my neck. She was great masseuse – and tease. Then, she
snorted out of nowhere. Now, I’d never in a million years would’ve classified
her as a lady at heart but even she must’ve had a reason for doing it. I
quirked an eyebrow.

 

“What makes you think you can bed her?” Pansy clarified,
superior smirk firmly and immovably in place.

 

Well, that had been unexpected. Especially from her. I was
surprised to hear anyone doubting my abilities of seduction. This time I perked
both of my eyebrows.

 

“Come again?”

 

“Later,” she replied seriously, “but even you must’ve
realized that she’s out of your range. She’s Granger – all things holy and
pure.” Pansy made a superior face as she added, “She probably still wears
footie pajamas to bed and promises to never fuck a soul until her wedding.”

 

I grinned. Pansy frowned.

 

“Talking about her lingerie and fuck tendencies,” I
observed crudely, “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

 

Pansy’s frown melted into a coy smile as her hand crept
down to my growing erection, making me groan. She smiled at the reaction and
stroked me one more time for good measure while uttering, “I think you like me
for several different reasons,” before patting my pants and standing up
abruptly. “But I still don’t think you have a chance with little Miss
Virginity.”

 

It took me a few moments to recover from Pansy’s
ministrations before I was able to think clearly again. Truthfully, no one else
ever had that effect on me. But her.

 

“Would you like to make a wager on that?” I asked,
grinning knowingly. She wouldn’t pass this up. And I knew I had it in the bag.

 

Pansy pursed her lips in a brief moment of thought before
sauntering over to the back of my leather chair. Bending so that her lips were
mere centimeters away from my ear, she whispered as quietly as she could,
“Maybe.”

 

I nodded. “Well, in that case, Parkinson, I suggest you
vacate my room. Wouldn’t want the Professors getting disappointed with us.” I
almost laughed at how serious I sounded Pansy grinned as well.

 

She turned around to leave, when she stopped. She spun
around slowly, look straight into my expectant and awaiting face. I raised an
eyebrow. I wasn’t very patient.

 

“About that wager,” she said, smiling. “I’ll take you up
on it.” She walked close to me when I showed signs of acknowledgement. “If I
win...I get that hot, little family crest of yours.” Her grin grew wider as she
looked at me, waiting for me to comprehend what she meant.

 

I was dumbfounded. Family crest? What the fuck? Family
crest, family crest, family cre –

p;
p;

“Shit, that family crest? It’s worth more than both
of our lives,” I informed her dumbly. We were worth a damn good fortune. The
crest was worth more.

 

Pansy smiled. She knew.

 

A slow smirk started to dominate my face. What the hell
was I worried about? This was just as well done – Granger was mine for the
taking. The crest would also remain mine. No sweat. Now there was only one
thing left to ask.

 

“Well, what’s in it for me?”

 

Pansy – from the looks of it – had been waiting for that
question. She smirked as she moved closer to me and finally was so near that
the only thing separating my lips from hers was a thin film of air no more than
three centimeters wide – tops.

 

“I’ll give you something you’ve been wanting ever since we
met in the Great Hall, first year,” Pansy revealed seductively. She renewed her
position on my lap and gyrated on me cruelly. She had picked some fabulous
motivation for me.

 

“What makes you think I’ll go for that bet?” I asked,
suddenly realizing the stakes. “That’s a six thousand year-old crest that could
financially support four countries.”

 

It was true. She didn’t give a damn.

 

“Because I’m the only one you can’t have and it kills
you,” she said in a light, almost pitiful voice.

 

Hot damn, that was true and I knew it. And she obviously
knew it. I turned around and smiled, getting up from chair after she got off
me.

 

“You’ve got yourself a bet, baby.”

 

Pansy’s eyes saw Galleons. My eyes saw Pansy.

 

We shook hands.

 

It was a bet.

 

On Granger.

 

.• .• .•
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Author’s Note:

 

Hello! This is my first time writing a Harry Potter
fanfiction so...you know...give me a chance. I’m an all out Draco/Hermione
shipper so there’s no leeway on that. Tell me what you think and please review.

 

If you don’t like the start of the story – tell me why. If
you do – tell me why. If you don’t review – I’ll stop writing the story because kno knoo abo abandon stories like that. If no one likes it, I tend to get a
short attention span with it and turn to something else.

 

So review, please. And review for other authors – they
love hearing what you guys have go to say. Without the readers, the authors are
just a bunch of loons writing stuff beyond reality for their own, thinly veiled
satisfaction. Like a diary.

 

And with that, my homies, I. Am. Out.

 

Peace.

 

(I’m not gangster. Forgive me.)