About a Girl

"Hey, dude, check this out!"


"Hot damn, what an ass!"



"I've never seen her before, who is she?"


Whispers followed Draco as he made his way into the great hall with Hermione, who looked vaguely irritated at all the attention he was getting. His stomach was churning with nervousness despite his cool exterior. What if he slipped up? It was all well and good to prance around the Head Quarters as a girl, but this was different. If someone recognized him, he might as well just fling himself from the Astronomy Tower right then and there and save himself the trouble. Although, knowing his luck, his skirt would probably fly up around his waist when he landed, leaving the entire school to catch a full view of his baby-making bits, which was a humiliating thought even if he wouldn't be around to experience it.


Feeling many pairs of eyes prickling his skin, he walked quicker, catching up with Granger. Approaching the Staff Table, they stopped in front of Dumbledore, who got up and motioned for silence from the room.


"May I have your attention please?" the Headmaster commanded. "It is my distinct pleasure to introduce Miss Jocelyn Greenleaf to our school."


There were several wolf whistles and cat calls, making Malfoy blush in spite of himself. Bloody pigs. Aware of all the stares, he tugged at the bottom of his skirt self-consciously, feeling very exposed, not to mention drafty in the cold Hall.


Dumbledore smiled at the calls indulgently. "She is a transfer student from Beauxbatons, and has been sorted into Gryffindor. I'm sure you will all treat her with the courtesy and graciousness I have come to expect from Hogwart's students."


The entire Hall applauded, the Gryffindor table being particularly loud. Malfoy followed Hermione away from the Staff Table, and automatically started heading for the Slytherin table before Granger grabbed his elbow.


"Wrong way, Jocelyn," Hermione hissed between clenched teeth as she steered him towards the Gryffindorks.


Draco mentally groaned. The only available seats left appeared to be next to that Irish bore Finnigan and Saint Scarhead himself, with Longbottom sitting across. Dear gods, why must I endure all this? he thought.


"You were going the wrong way there, little lady," Finnigan said with a roguish grin as Malfoy sat next to him reluctantly.


"Yeah, that's the snake pit," Ron chortled, his mouth full of food. Ugh. Nature should have taken its course years ago and caused the boy to choke to death, purifying the collective gene pool. Perhaps it just needed a boost. One that he would be happy to give...


"You'd better stay clear of them, they're a pretty nasty bunch," the female Weasel piped up, bounding up beside him. "Anyways, hi. I'm Ginny."


"Hi, Ginny," Draco said, forcing a bright smile on his face. "Jocelyn."


Hermione cleared her throat slightly. "Everyone, Jocelyn. Jocelyn, this is Neville, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Harry."


Malfoy nodded and smiled in response, feeling like a drooling, grinning idiot. Why were they making such a fuss? In Slytherin, they'd just nod and be done with it, not behave like witches at a tea party.


Filling his plate, Draco settled down to eat, listening to Potter and Weasley settle back down into their asinine talk about the Chucky Cannons, or whatever the hell idiotic team they supported. Honestly, they had no common courtesy. Although, he almost preferred their ignorant ramblings to the painful attempts at small talk that Granger and the Weaselette were making.


"So what classes did you take in Beauxbatons? Is it really different from the curriculum here? I read somewhere that they offer certain classes that we don't, like Alchemy and Magical Law?" Hermione asked in her full out know it all tone that everyone knew and feared.


Draco fought the urge to glare at her. She was hiding a little smirk and seemed extraordinarily pleased with herself. That bushy headed bint; she knew full well this was all rubbish, did she really have to make things so difficult for him?


Hermione couldn't help but smile at the murderous expression in Malfoy's eyes. Well, she had to play the part of her usual studious self, which meant asking questions about school until she drove everyone around her mad.


Plus, if she got to push Malfoy's buttons at the same time, even better.


"Actually, the curriculum isn't that much different, just a few different elective courses," Malfoy said calmly, aiming a kick at Granger's shin and provoking a sharp yelp from Potter when he missed. "Oh, I'm so sorry...umm, what did you say your name was?"


"Harry," Potter replied, looking slightly surprised that Draco didn't already know.


"Harry, of course," Draco said, trying to repress a grin. Potter would probably need massive amounts of therapy to comfort his inflated ego because Draco hadn't rolled around on the floor kissing his feet. He was being forced to pretend to be a Gryffindor, but there was no way in hell he was going to worship their patron saint.


Concentrating on his food, Draco didn't notice the furtive, uncomfortable looks he was getting from Neville and Dean across the table until Hermione nudged him slightly with her elbow.


He looked up at her in confusion and raised an eyebrow slightly. In response, she uncrossed and crossed her legs in an exaggerrated fashion, and looked down at his own meaningfully.


With a sudden revelation, Malfoy suddenly realized he had been sitting in his usual fashion, with his back bent and his legs open, and was, in effect, flashing the few people that sat in front of him, not to mention anyone from the Ravenclaw table who cared to look. As casually and quickly as he could, he crossed his legs and sat up straighter to eat. He felt like he was going to fall off his seat if he made any sudden movements to the left, or leaned slightly, so he ate his eggs as stiffly as possible without resembling a mummy.


Luckily, Neville and Dean seemed to assume it was a French habit or something, and didn't seem suspicious. Neville was blushing slightly however, and seemed highly embarrassed.


After breakfast was over, Hermione said her goodbyes, and escorted Draco to Arithmancy.


And with that, the day began.

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As he flopped down for dinner, Draco was exhausted. He had worked harder at maintaining his Jocelyn persona than he had in his classes, and it was beginning to get wearing, not to mention would probably affect his grades. They were always good, rivaled only by Granger's, and they hadn't been acheived solely by cheating and cashing in on the Malfoy name, as some believed. True, there were some classes like Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology that he hardly paid attention in, but they were useless anyway; it was simpler to skim by in those and concentrate his efforts on the more difficult classes, like Potions and Arithmancy.


After his little stunt at breakfast however, Draco spent a good deal of time making sure that he stayed completely in character, which had proven to be difficult as the day wore on. He repeatedly kept veering towards his usual place in the middle of the Slytherins, forcing Hermione several times to nudge him to his new seat. And by accident, he had giggled after Longbottom turned his potion orange, and Snape tore into him so viciously, the boy was practically reduced to tears. Luckily, the rest of the Gryffindors were too busy glaring at Snape to notice, and he was able to turn it into a hacking cough and assume a sympathetic expression as Neville attempted to salvage his work, sniffing slightly.


The constant presence of Potter and the Weasel didn't help matters either. Honestly, how had Granger survived them for so long? She may have been a buck toothed Muggleborn, but the girl had some brains, as much as it killed him to admit it. Had he been her, he would have murdered them the first time they woke him up in the night to go gallivanting off on some nonexistant adventure. They spent the entire time either talking about Quidditch or some such, or glowering about Snape and contemplating whether his own mysterious disappearance was due to being on a mission for Voldemort and whether they should investigate it or not.


The last bit had nearly made Draco laugh out loud in the middle of DADA. It was so typical for them to assume that every Slytherin was a Death Eater, which was extremely far from the truth. His father was a Death Eater, true, but he had only joined to save his own skin. He had no interest in Voldemort's insane regime, being far too fond of his own comfortable existance to sacrifice himself for a mere cause, and many of his friends were struggling to remain neutral as well.


And if the presence of the Demented Duo wasn't enough, his concentration was further disrupted by constantly ensuring his facade didn't slip, which was more difficult than he had anticipated. His legs were so firmly planted together so they didn't spread apart accidentally, it really must have looked like he had a severe bladder condition. And his bra was extremely bloody uncomfortable, how did girls wear them all the time? It was like a medieval torture device. However, taking it off wasn't an option, due to both social graces, and the fact that walking around all day with them bouncing around would hurt like hell. It seemed that breasts were bags of very painful fat, and could be a bit of a pain in the ass, despite their enormous perks as toys.


Draco shoveled down his dinner gratefully, completely oblivious to the stares he was getting from a certain handsome young black man from the Slytherin table.


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Blaise Zabini eyed the blonde Gryffindor appreciatively, her slim figure wonderfully enhanced by the short school uniform. The new girl was definately a looker, and he wasn't the only one who noticed, as evidenced by the many glances in her direction.


Pansy smirked. "Checking out the fresh meat, I see. Can't say I blame you, she really is quite good looking. Good thing Draco isn't here, he'd snap up a little thing like that in a heartbeat."


"Well, that's why I fully intend to capitalize on his absence," Zabini replied. "I want to be the first one here to fully "welcome" her to Hogwarts properly."


Pansy snorted. "Boys. Just have to beat each other in the hunt, don't you?"


Zabini smiled slightly. Perhaps it was a weakness of his, but he aimed to be the first to capture the attentions of the lovely Ms. Greenleaf. And knowing him, he would probably succeed.


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Full of food, and feeling rather content towards humanity, Draco was peacefully listening to Harry and Ron debating the merits of the new Irish Seeker, his guard slightly down. He snorted slightly as he listened to their feeble arguments, until finally, he couldn't take it anymore, and let loose, forgetting himself for a moment.


"You guys are both so thick!" he exclaimed, the entire table turning to look at him. "The Irish team didn't need a new Keeper, not with Lynch making all those amazing plays. They just traded him because of contract issues. If they were really smart, they would have kept him and gotten a new left Chaser, Connelly doesn't know the broom handle from his cock."


There was a deafening silence as everyone stared at Malfoy blankly, horror dawning on him as he realized how utterly he screwed up. Hermione put her face in her hands in frustration. There it was, he had managed to fuck the whole thing up after only one day. She opened her mouth, about to scream at the prat until her face turned blue, when-


"That's exactly what I was saying!" Finnegan said triumphantly. "I didn't know you liked Quidditich!"


Draco blinked. It seemed that things weren't completely shot to hell after all. "Yeah, I do. I play a little bit too."


"That's brilliant," Harry exclaimed. "Not that many girls follow Quidditch in general, even the ones who play."


"What the hell does that make me?" Ginny asked angrily, but there was too much noise to hear her. Ron immediately started arguing with Malfoy about the Irish team, and the rest of the seventh years started talking bout Jocelyn, whether in admiration (most of the girls, except for Ginny, who were pleased that the new girl was holding her own) or irritation (a good deal of the boys, who felt rather emasculated that Harry and Ron had been shown up by a girl).


Sighing in relief, Hermione broke up the furor and the group broke up in disarray, still squabbling amongst themselves. As she and Draco made their way out of the Hall, Zabini blocked his path.


"Well, I see it doesn't take long for you to start an uproar," he drawled, raising an eyebrow.


Draco grinned slightly. "I guess I'm just talented in that area," he said casually, moving to leave the Hall.


Zabini stared at him intently. "I'm sure you're rather skilled in other areas as well. At least, I hope to find out."


He then gave Malfoy a wink, gave her a once over glance that seemed to see right through her clothing, and walked away, smirking intently.


Draco froze in shock, unable to do anything but stand with his mouth gaping slightly. He...wha...Blaise just hit on him! Blaise, his best friend, the guy he always went with to pick up girls, Blaise whom he helped with his Transfiguration homework, he hit on him! And he was pretty damn straightforward about it too. Had that man no grasp on the concept of subtlety? Then Draco remembered his own preferred methods of flirting with girls, and suddenly felt like a hypocrite. Did he really come off as that much of a sleezebag? He made a mental note to adjust his techniques slightly in the future.


"Was he bothering you?"


Whipping around, Malfoy saw Potter walking up behind him with a concerned look on his face.


"Um, no, it's fine, he was just being a jerk," replied Draco, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. How typically chivalrous of the prat.


"Well, if he starts to be a problem, let me or Ron know," Harry said. "He's a bit of a manwhore around here, so you should watch out."


Struggling not to slap Potter upside the head for that, Malfoy nodded. They joined Hermione and Ron (who had grudgingly made peace regarding the argument) and made their way up to the Gryffindor Tower, passing a slightly disgruntled looking Ginny on the way, who walked up quickly, not saying hello.


"You ladies joining us?" Ron asked with a mock bow as they reached the portrait hole.


Hermione smiled. "No, I have to help Jocelyn with her Potions essay, which should take quite a while. We'll walk you down to breakfast tomorrow though."


"Night, girls," Ron said.


"Good night, Jocelyn, see you tomorrow," said Harry.


Draco and Hermione wished the boys good night, and walked to the Head's Quarters. Reaching the common room, Malfoy threw himself on the chair and moaned.


"Sweet Circe, what a day," he groaned. "If I don't hear a single intelligent conversation soon, they're going to have to ship me off to St. Mungo's. They're all worse than first years."


Hermione sighed. "Oh, come on Malfoy, it wasn't that bad. And you seemed to get into the swing of it pretty quick, seeing how eagerly you leaped into our lowly conversation about Quidditch." She started to unpack her books.


Draco made a face, but didn't respond. She was too lost in her own little world of books, trying to get a coherent answer out of her would be far more trouble that it was worth.


"I'm going to take a shower," he said, although she didn't appear to be paying any attention to him. Shaking his head slightly, he walked into the bathroom, and began to take off his uniform. He removed the blouse and knee socks easily, but when Malfoy took off his skirt, he felt a dampness in his underwear that he hadn't noticed before.


Puzzled, he pulled them down. The inside was wet with dark red blood.


Oh, dear Merlin, no.


"Shit."



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