Sucker Love

Chapter 6 • Draco





Chapter 6
• Draco

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I didn’t know what was going on with me and I hated it. I
usually always knew my moves before, during, and after everything I planned. I
was never caught off guard.

 

I stared at my deep, forest-green bedspread as I sat atop
my king-size bed. That was literal – I just stared. I made a mere mistake
during my plan yesterday but it was killing me inside. I didn’t know what
compelled me to do it, but I tried to come up with a reason why I took Hermi –
Granger – to see Alahara. I’d never taken any other chick – especially not a
fucking bet – to see something that only a few wizards were even aware existed.
It was my thing; my place to go whenever I felt like I didn’t give a damn about
anyone anymore. It only came twice every three years and I wasted one Alahara
on...Granger.

 

I felt disgusted with myself. It wasn’t part of the plan
to take her to the Astronomy Tower and show her the magnificent evening’s
lights. The plan was just to get her out of her bloody annoying friends’ grasp
and ‘bond’. I knew that I still had to ‘prove myself’ to her – that was the
bonding plan right there.

 

I sighed, then shook my head, a grin appearing on my face.
I supposed I was being a bit too hard on myself; after all, I knew she loved it
yesterday. That definitely scored major points in the all-around Malfoy area with
her. Alahara wasn’t that big of a deal anyway, I argued again. It wasn’t that
uncommon and for what I was going to get out of this bet, taking Granger to see
it so that I could gain my prize was definitely worth it.

 

I smirked. I was the best at pep talks for myself. It
didn’t take much, of course; saying ‘money’ or ‘sex’ woulrk mrk me right up,
but I had to hand it to myself – I was the next Dr. Phil.

 

I lifted my toned – if I did say so myself – upper body
from the very mesmerizing, comfortable bed and swooped over my other
doormmates’ sing ing quarters, while passing to go and take a piss. I spotted
Crabbe and Goyle; I smirked.

 

I couldn’t help but throw a few pillows at their meaty,
bulky sleeping faces and chuckled at their weak whimpers in their sleep. I was
pretty sure I also heard Goyle say, “Mommy” but it could’ve very well been my
humorous imagination.

 

“Baby, there you are,” I heard a voice drawl in my ear. I
lifted an eyebrow; right now wasn’t the best time – I was, after all, on the
way to the bathroom.

 

“You caught me,” I agreed, raising my arms in mock
surrender, looking into Pansy’s scheming eyes, “I don’t know how I thought I’d
sneak by own dormitories and not be seen.”

 

Pansy’s eyes flashed at my unusual and unwelcome sarcasm.

 

“What’s up your ass today?” she asked bluntly, completely
abandoning her ‘Baby, there you are’ previous act. I rolled my eyes.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I stepped into the bathroom
and turned around to see Pansy’s face gaining inch after inch of distraught
expression. “Look, I’m really pissy right now – woke up and had a shitty dream.
Pans, baby, I’m just not in the mood.”

 

She smirked back as if rejecting my close-to-kind words
and nodding slightly.

 

“Granger mission not going well?” she asked pitifully. I
knew that pity – I despised it.

 

“Going very well, actually,” I replied, closing the door a
bit more now. Pansy was really pissing me off now, and she knew she was – it’s
why she suggested that I was failing in my newest conquest. Bitch. Sexy,
annoying bitch.

 

She just grinned even wider. “Fuck her yet?”

 

“Not yet,” I sighed, more out of irritation for her than
the lack of sex with the bet.

 

“Loser.”

 

“Ball me.”

 

Her smirk remained firmly in place – all-knowing and smug.
I shut the door completely – that was enough Granger talk for today.

 

 

.

 

 

My hand was cramping up from all the copying we were
doing. I could’ve sworn that Snape just had some random student hex him today
and he was making us pay for it. That was probably the case and he didn’t get
enough joy out of seeing the aforementioned moronic kid tortured and maimed by
his own, skillful hands; no – he had to make his Potions suffer as well, just
because we fell in the same generation gap.

 

God, I wished some idiot kid really had hexed Snape. It
would’ve at least made all this goddamn writing worth it.

 

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape’s voice announced, enveloping each of
the letters in my name with great superiority and doubt, as if I was one of his
children speaking public ally at a formal party and he wasn’t sure if I’d be up
to par. He sounded oh so similar to Father. Git. I was, of course, lucky that
my house was none other than Slytherin, so I didn’t catch the seething-hatred
end of Snape’s shit, but I was also a Hogwarts student – I was hardly exempt
from the annoying jabber of the Professor.

 

“Yes, Professor?” I answered like a good, little doggie
that he wanted me sound like. I felt sick and – with the strong urge to roll my
eyes and tell him off in many colorful ways being suppressed – I had nothing
but mock-obedience left in my name. It was all I could do from going insane in
this class. I didn’t know what had come over me; I’d never let Snape rattle me
so much before. It was like my guard was down all of a sudden – or I had
fourteen extra guards up and Snape was dangerously close to the alarm zone.
Either way, I felt like scratching my eyes out with a very blunt, short wand
made entirely out of sandpaper – that was my salvation.

 

“Quickly – would one add Twingeroot or Ansleflower to the
Eyecolor Modification Potion in order to successfully change one’s eyes’
appearance?” His voice was snappy, impatient and clear – he was on patrol of
students who’d just slept through his forty-five minute lecture and couldn’t
wait to assign detentions. I knew that voice; I knew not to answer incorrectly;
I knew that voice was seeking me out for pure appearance, but was really
designated for the infamous Potter and his annoying bunch of dim-witted house
elves. Well, all dim-witted except for Granger – my intelligent little bet, Granger.
No...I knew she’d know the answer to this.

 

Out of the corner of my eye I could see her itching to
spill out her knowledge and gain a few measly House points for the Gryffindors.
I couldn’t care less about House points nor did I care about Gryffindor, but I
couldn’t pass up an opportunity to rattle Granger’s cage. Ah, the simplicities
of life.

 

“Neither,” I answered Professor Snape decisively, raising
an eyebrow pointedly at the aforementioned wagered-upon lady whose eyebrow,
too, shot up in surprise. She looked at me with her eyes questioning my every
word – which, for now, added up to one – and I gratefully stared back. Perhaps
this would even be profitable to my winning her over – who knew with little
Gryffindor mascots such as herself? It was anyone’s call, really. “Twingeroot
does not modify eye color but rather the shade of it, therefore useless in the
potion – only allowing the color to get darker or lighter.” I glanced at
Granger again, shifting my eyes from a less doubtful-looking Snape, then
averting my gaze back to the miserable, unsurprisingly black-clad Professor.
“As for Ansleflower, the ingredient proves to be too strong for the
Modification potion; it modifies eye color to the desired degree, but
permanently does so, therefore nullifying any chances of returning to one’s
original eye color as the potion requires.” I looked down at my notes, catching
the eye of the appropriately named herb and/or plant for this answer and looked
back up at the weary class, half of the students nearly asleep out of boredom.

 

“You’d need Hazeltongue Weed to successfully change
someone’s eye color and pick it at the peak of the season – ” I scanned my
notes briefly, “ – February, usually, and mix it with fresh basil to get it
working properly before adding the remainder of the ingredients.” I felt I
didn’t need to go into more detail than that – after all, if the rest of the
class was, indeed, asleep during my Potions’ recital, I definitely had some
catching up to.

 

Snape grinned – if I dared call it one – as if he’d just
proved something extremely vital and unknown to the Ministry of Magic and he
was being rewarded by being made the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher
until the end of time. I hardly thought it was anything to get excited about,
although my answer was brilliant – I knew it; it was a Malfoy answer. It was
expected.

 

“Very,” Snape accentuated, “thorough, Mr. Malfoy. Fifteen
points for Slytherin. Potter, Weasley, I’d listen to what your fellow
classmates are answering if I were you instead of drooling all over your quills
as usual. Perhaps then your N.E.W.T.s won’t turn out quite as pathetic and
lacking as last year’s O.W.L.s. Won’t that be something.”

 

The whole class laughed – like a hoard of sheep that
hasn’t a single thing better to attend to than observe the pathetic existence
of Potter and Weasley. I let out a strangled chuckle. What? Hoards of sheep
aside, Potter and Weasley’s pathetic existence is quite an extraordinary
experience to participate in – I didn’t want to miss out.

 

Class went on as usual after that. I did – in fact – catch
up on the stolen sleep that Snape acquired from my answer and only caught bits
and pieces of the remaining Potions lesson. It wasn’t like it was anything
important either; Mandrake Root here and Spanson Ink there with the occasional,
“Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley.” Actually, the ‘Mr. Potter’ was
sometimes substituted for ‘Mr. Weasley’, but I barely twitched an eyebrow for
that phenomenon. I couldn’t believe what a piece of crap Snape’s class was. He
was an O.K. bloke, that Snape, and intelligent as hell, but why he insisted on
making his class the ‘Let’s give the Gryffindors even more atton son show’ was
beyond me. And to think, this class was supposed to prepare me for N.E.W.T.s. I
snorted tastefully; I could have walked out right there and been just as
knowledgeable for tomorrow’s class as I would have been if I stayed and ‘paid
attention’.

 

No, the only thing keeping me air quote ‘awake’ and
present in today’s Potions was the one and only Hermione Granger. It was
strange to think that boring, old
she’s-so-brainy-I-want-use-the-Imperius-Curse-on-her-infinitely Granger was
actually keeping me somewhere – tying me down. I preferred to think of my bet
with Pansy – who seemed just as aggravated as me, by the way – as the
motivation whenever I stayed behind for something with Granger.

 

I looked at the aforementioned sex goddess who still
appeared to be bored and aggravated, but now her aggravation was aimed towards
the unworthy loser Hufflepuff who was attempting to ‘woe’ her. I smirked as I
watched her batting him away distractedly. I knew that the lowly Hufflepuff
should consider himself lucky that she was distracted; had she been paying
attention, she’d twist his balls into a knot so tight for not fucking off that
he’d swear off women forever.

 

I raised an eyebrow and leaned back in my chair. That
would be interesting, actually. I secretly wished for Pansy to start paying
attention.

 

I sighed as nothing happened with the twisting balls
scenario and looked away. As my luck had it, my eyes landed on the other woman
of the hour – the now-infamous Granger. It was insane, the amount of time I
spent thinking about her; making game plans and strategies, then other times
just thinking of the way she is – was – will be. I always pondered exactly why
she was the way she was and then scolded myself for being so damn
philosophical.

 

Truthfully, I couldn’t understand Granger. I thought I
knew whom I was betting on and I logically thought so as well – and what does she
do? She changes like hell over the fucking year that she’d disappeared into
bleedin’ nowhere. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t spend time thinking abothisthis, but I couldn’t figure Granger out. She used be a perfect little student;
the sickening suck-up that even Snape couldn’t deny whatwhat it takes to be
Dumbledore’s understudy if she’d wished. And now what had changed? I supposed
she still kept her grades up – I didn’t check or anything – but she didn’t seem
to give much of a fuck anymore.

 

She seemed a bit like me. I winced outwardly. I had to
take a few moments in realizing that I’d actually said that phrase – in my
mind, of course, but acknowledged it, no less. After the initial shock of my
self-imposed torturous statement, I realized that it was kind of true. I wasn’t
exactly the moron those Gryffindor buffoons thought I was, I just didn’t give a
flying rat’s ass whether I got four O.W.L.s or forty-seven. Granted, my father
cared, but that was beside the point. Granger didn’t seem to care either – and
it intrigued me.

 

I rubbed my temples in frustration and flexed a bicep in
attempt to reawaken my body and perhaps will it to move to my next class after
this. It was worth a try. I still couldn’t understand what caused the sudden
change in my victim and it bothered the hell ou me me that I cared. Not that I
overly cared, but it nipped at my mind like the name of a Quidditch player that
was just below important so that you knew who he or she was but couldn’t recall
his name.

 

Fucking hell. I was thinking too much
about Granger – I knew I was breaking some sort of universal code or something.
I looked at someone else in the room – anyone else. My eyes scanned the room
and landed on Pansy again. It was like a sign; an omen. I hadn’t talked to her
much since our little exchange with me dying to take a piss. And then I started
thinking of Granger.

 

I shook my head. I needed to associate with some normal
people – hang with Pansy more. This – Granger – happened when I didn’t. Calling
Granger ‘Hermione’ happened when I didn’t. I was going soft. It was a curse.

 

I found myself watching the way Hermione put her parchment
and quills inside her knapsack but left out her hard cover books to carry in
her right arm as she stood up from her table carefully, tucking a strand of
hair behind her right ear.

 

It was a fucking curse.

 

 

.

 

 

“Wait up, gorgeous.” I could feel her tensing at this, but
she stopped nonetheless. “Leave a bloke winded like that at the sight of your
beauty.”

 

Granger looked up at me, her green eyes flashing briefly
as if cautioning me before I spoke again. I smirked but said nothing more at
her reaction and stood patiently waiting for her answer. I’d – apparently –
gained some sort of patience just now. Didn’t know where the hell that came
from, but it must’ve been a deep, dark, dank place where even the rats wouldn’t
reside because it wasn’t close enough to civilization.

 

I watched my wagered-upon lady study me quietly, probably
noting if I was the same old sweet fellow that showed her Alahara last night. I
flashed her a ‘I’m a nice guy, I mean well’ grin that lowered her protective
walls a bit. Then again, last night gained me some points on her radar as I’d
imagined it would, so I was pretty much a VIP anyhow.

 

“Beauty, huh?” Granger finally replied dryly. “Bet you say
that to all the girls.”

 

I pretended to frown deeply. “No,” I mock-assured her,
“really, it’s just you. I mean Potions really looks good on you; one class
leaves your looking replenished for the rest of your daily activities.” I
smiled, as her eyes glanced into mine again – one of those deep, meaningful
glances that I skillfully learned to avoid.

 

But I cracked even her – a pro at concealing amusement and
contentment at being with me. She chuckled a bit and closed her eyes briefly in
the moment before looking back up in response and shifting her Potions books so
that her left arm was now straining to hold them all in place. I imagined that
there were more than Potions books in her arms – but I could’ve been wrong;
after all, I hadn’t even found my original Potions book that was assigned to me
three days ago.

 

“Yeah, well,” Granger agreed subtly, breaking me out of my
crucial thoughts, “Potions is a regular face-lift, you see.”

 

I grinned my charming grin. “Definite profit potential
there, no?”

 

Hermione grinned as well, but shook her head at the same
time causing me to perk a brow. “Don’t know about the business we’d get with
Snape as our leading man in product delivery.”

 

“Point taken,” I replied lightly, as I set a pace for us
to begin walking towards our next class – Enhanced Transfiguration. It was only
our first class today and I hadn’t the slightest idea of who was in it, but I
knew Granger must’ve been. She might have acted like she didn’t give a shit
about grades, but I knew that she, at least, had enough respect for McGonagall
to at least join her advanced class in which she excelled, no doubt.

 

Walking confidently down the hall, I felt a thought
flicker briefly in my mind, imagining what it would have looked like to see a
Malfoy and Granger walking together in public if I were an on-looker in the
Hogwarts crowd right now. Had it been first, second, third, or even fourth
year, I probably would’ve given a damn what anyone thought of my associates at
this school. But I knew better now – I knew I had the power even if I was seen
braiding Longbottom’s hair, supposing I’d ever gone insane and decided I wanted
to do that. Malfoys were respected for money and I had money. There was nothing
more to it and I’d realized that. And I didn’t care. Those on-lookers that I
once cared about didn’t have the slightest idea what was going through my mind
as I walked with Granger, her books nearly slipping out of her hold but her and
my thoughts on something else entirely; they had no idea that I didn’t give a
crap about who was a Mudblood and who was a Pureblood; they didn’t know that
Granger was a bet and that their Head Girl had fucked just about everyone male
in the entire school. No, they were all innocent little sheep waiting for fate
to come and take them by the hand so perhaps they’d get their special moment
today, tomorrow or ten years from now in the Ministry of Magic when that damn
Fudge finally croaks and they get to move up to Owlery Patrol while some other
hag takes over Fudge’s spot.

 

And I didn’t give a flying fuck what people like that
thought; they were insignificant to me – and I was an intrigue to them. Perhaps
it all evened out in some twisted, messed up cosmic balance, but it didn’t
matter. It made some goddamn sense to me and when I stared down some scared,
little second year to the point of fright, I didn’t feel one bit of remorse.

 

I was still thinking insane, tyrannical thoughts when I
felt a warm hand touch my forearm firmly, pulling me out of my rhythmic pace.

 

“Wha – ” I didn’t get to protest. Granger’s pointed look
told me all that I needed to know, but she elaborated anyway.

 

“Enhanced Transfiguration is in McGonagall’s classroom as
always,” she informed me, sounding too much like the old Hermione. I’d almost
gotten used to the new one. “You were walking right past it.”

 

I shrugged. I didn’t mean to walk past the room, but
seeing as there was hardly anyone there I didn’t see the use anyway.

 

“It’s early yet,” I replied calmly, before starting up on
my brisk pace once more. I knew she’d follow; she probably knew as well, but
she followed her instincts nonetheless.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

I loved her curiosity. It was obvicuricuriosity, but
curiosity nonetheless. Granger always wanted to have control over the
situation, always wanted to know like she could orient herself easily and be in
charge if needed. It was fun for me to show her that she couldn’t do that with
me; I was in charge.

 

“Not important.” I was still walking a few steps ahead of
her. I could tell it was bothering the hell out of her.

 

“Yes, it is. Where are you taking me?” she asked again. I
smirked and tried not to sound too hostile.

 

“I, Ms. Granger, am not taking you anywhere,” I replied
promptly as if it were the easiest answer in the world. “You’re the one
following me.”

 

I could feel Granger rolling her eyes at this – it seemed
like the type of thing she’d do.

 

“Since when do you call me Ms. ger?ger?” she asked, out of
the blue. Well, it wasn’t overly out of the blue as I’m the one that brought it
up, but it was a strange question nonetheless.

 

“Since a moment ago, I suppose,” I answered truthfully. I
was still walking down the long – fucking endless, by the way – stone hallway
where a million and more classroom were located before I was, once again,
halted by an arm. This time, however, it wasn’t calmly placed on my forearm,
but firmly planted in front of me while another arm was placed behind me in the
same manner. I realized that I was trapped against the stone hallway wall and
my attacker was none other than Ms. Granger.

 

She stood there for a few moments, barely registering with
my questioning face as she thought of something – probably not even concerning
me – before her eyes indicated that she was back on Earth in Hogwarts and
pinning me to a wall forcefully. She seemed a little pissed, I admitted, but I
was also amused at where this was going. I was also a bit uncomfortable that a
large, jagged stone from the wall seemed to be protruding in between my
shoulder blades, which made me lose a bit of that patience that was recovered
from a deep, dank residence.

 

“Mm...Granger, not that this position isn’t at all turning
me on, but what the hell are you doing?” I asked, being sure to add my two
Galleons in the I j I just wasn’t known for bei pla plain soul.

 

Granger rolled her eyes and threw her arms up in the air
impatiently. Perhaps, I figured, her patience returned to its deep, dank
existence as well. I knew it wouldn’t last long.

 

“Your evasive, constant innuendos aren’t welcome when
you’re in my company,” Granger informed me in a very business-like, ‘I’ve got
another appointment in ten minutes’ kind of way.

 

I smirked, deciding that two could play the truth game. If
she wanted to be honest and blunt, I could take a crack at it as well. Honest
wasn’t exactly my thing, but it could be done under circumstances.

 

“And your sarcastic, bipolar mood swings aren’t welcome
when you’re in my company,” I replied in the same business-like, ‘Take that’
manner that she spoke to me in. “I guess we both have a problem.”

 

Granger smirked back, her green eyes twirling a bit as she
silently accepted my verbal challenge. I didn’t figure this to be a day for
sarcasm and cynicism but I didn’t want to go to class and I supposed this was
the next best thing. It didn’t suck.

 

“I wouldn’t go naming that noun singular just yet, but I
was serious,” she answered truthfully, before crinkling her brow and adding
huffily, “and what the hell do you mean – bipolar?”

 

I rolled my eyes. Okay, so I hadn’t kept my cool bravado
that I usually aimed for, but the chick was honestly in need of some clues that
I was ready to offer her.

 

“You very unfocused, unstructured, almost abstract,” I
observed, almost as if I was a critic, observing a painting that didn’t quite
sit well with me. “You feel good about something one minute, then change your
mind and piss about it the next minute; it’s all very hit-and-miss with you,
Granger. That’s called bipolar – acting happy one minute and angry or sad the
next.”

 

Hermione looked like she’d just been slapped with a fish and
left with a cherry on top. Dumbfounded covered it more accurately.

 

“What?” she exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips, then
promptly dropping them to her sides. “How in the hell – when have I done that?
I’ve been here, like, a day!”

 

“And a night,” I corrected her automatically, then waved
my arm as if her outburst meant nothing. “And you did that for the one night
you were here.” Hermione’s eyebrows were raised impatiently and I almost
laughed right there had I not realized that she’d probably beat the crap out of
me for not elaborating. “I mean, when we saw Alahara you were totally into it.
Big stars – beautiful – all that rot, and then I come up to you after class and
you look at me like I was communicating with you for the first time from Mars. If
that’s not bipolar, I don’t know what is.” I didn’t start talking about the
real bipolar example I had in mind, like why she didn’t seem like she gave a
damn about what anyone thought anymore even thought last year she had. That
wasn’t even bipolar – that was just weird as hell. And I didn’t ask – it
just...wasn’t the time.

 

“I didn’t...look at you like you were from Mars,” Granger
answered rather slowly, calming her sentences for the first time in a couple of
minutes. “I just...don’t know what to expect from you.” She looked up at me
like there were answers in my eyes that could’ve saved this tiny, miserable
little world. The green in her eyes shone at me as if admitting the innocence
that was – and will always be – Hermione Granger; the special little world that
she was sheltered in and the naivety that was cultured into her that would
never leave. And I was mesmerized.

 

It was then, deep down I should’ve realized that she was –
if anything – too good for me, too pure. Like white ivory with stained rust, we
seemed when compared. In the hallway, it wasn’t any different, her sparkling,
green orbs prying into my icy blue ones. I knew the iced blue felt like it was
melting and it alarmed me – why did it feel like the icy blue didn’t belong,
like it was supposed to feel warmer? Why did it feel like...it wasn’t me?

 

“You don’t need to expect anything from me,” I answered,
snaking my right arm around her waist and flipping our positions so that
Granger was the one against the wall, her books long-since resting on the stony
ground and her knapsack twisted on her shoulder, pressing into the stony wall.
She didn’t resist, and I took that as an unspoken, forbidden yet fateful omen
to bring my lips to her ear. “You don’t need to expect anything of yourself
either.”

 

As I felt her breath on my neck, I knew I had to see her
eyes – those twirling, endless orbs. I brought my face back up to match hers in
height and felt filled with something I couldn’t recognize – but not empty. And
that was all that mattered; not empty.

 

Getting closer inch by inch I tried to reason, to think,
to strategize but nothing came to mind – nothing but Granger – Hermione –
everything about her and everything that wasn’t her but should be. Down to the
last inch, I felt her inhale before our lips touched.

 

Or they should’ve touched – had there been anything there
to touch.

 

My eyes flew open immediately, sensing some of kind of
misunderstanding that I wasn’t picking up on. What I came face-to-face with was
a knowing look on Granger’s face. I couldn’t register what or where I went
wrong. I never went wrong – I never even thought of these things. Words in ear,
inching close, kiss – that was the order. Why no kiss?

 

“What the hell was that?” I asked a bit harshly. I knew it
shouldn’t have sounded that demanding, had it any feeling behind it anyway, but
I was pretending for bet – that’s all I was doing, I realized, so it didn’t
matter.

 

Hermione’s eyes suddenly hardened, though her knowing look
remained on her face. Keeping it firmly in place for a moment, she stared me
down as I’d stared down anyone but she didn’t give up until I narrowed my eyes.
Then, she shook her head and began to chuckle quietly. Her chuckle cut through
the empty hall, and didn’t amuse me.

 

“I’ve been well informed of your reputation now, Malfoy,”
she answer finally, after minutes of impatient anticipation on my part. Her
eyes twinkled with disappointment but dignity.

 

It took me a few minutes to register what exactly Granger
had just thrown in my face.

 

“Excuse me?” I tried. She just picked up her books from
the floor and readjusted the strap of her knapsack on her shoulder, before
shaking her head and raising her index finger thoughtfully.

 

“Yes, I didn’t believe it at first when I was told about
the new Draco Malfoy – Sex God Extraordinaire,” she said, pointing her finger
as if picking out her own thoughts, “but I definitely never thought you’d try
that shit with me.”

 

I opened my mouth to say something, but Granger cut in,
her finger now pointing at me and her voice firmer than I’d ever heard it
before.

 

“I, frankly, don’t give a crap if you’ve fucked every
living, breathing thing in Hogwarts on two legs,” she accentuated harshly.
“Stay away from me.” She turned to walk towards the Transfiguration classroom,
when she whirled around and shook her head and me, her voice now softer. “I
won’t be your conquest.”

 

And she left, her shoes tapping softly and echoing in my
brain like fire spreading soundly through a large field, crackling against the
dry grass.

 

I couldn’t believe what’d just happened. I was Draco
fucking Malfoy and Hermione had told me off? And I hadn’t retaliated? And she
knew – she knew about the reputation that I’d gained last year alone?

 

I kicked the stone wall that I’d been leaning against and
pocketed my hands, letting my head loll back and gaze at the plain, stony
ceiling. My plans were a bit damaged and I hated that – hated feeling out of
control.

 

And what was worse, I didn’t know whether to feel angrier
that Hermione had struck me speechless tonight or that I’d called her Hermione
again.

 

.• .• .•
.• .• .• .• .•
.• .• .•

 

Author’s Note:

 

So... Hey, hey...Getting interesting for our little Draco,
isn’t it? Poor guy is being pulled in a million different directions. First,
he’s confused why he took Hermi to look at Alahara, then he gets attacked by
Pansy, then he thinks he’s the man, then he gets the fuzzies (kind of) and then
he practically gets dumped. Poor guy.

 

Oh, well. Draco’s tought. Plus, he’s not all vulnerable.
If I may quote: “I brough fac face back up to match hers in height and felt
filled with something I couldn’t recognize – but not empty. And that was all
that mattered; not empty.” See? That’s not exactly love in the room. Anyway,
Hermione knows about Draco’s rep! How about that? Woo! Out of this world, eh,
kids?

 

Man, it’s fucking two a.m. and I got up early this morning
– I’m sorry if I sound a little weird, that’s why. But the good news is I just
finished the chapter! So – enjoy and review!

 

- - - - - -

 

[Parie]:
Sure thing, updates on the way. Ay, ay, captain.

[ffjunkie]: Dude, I love your reviews. Your reviews are one of the ideal
reviews for author's - long and non-flame-like. I will not 'forgive you' for
pointing out the glasses thing in your last review because you didn't do a
thing wrong - it kept me in check to imagine the *Draco* character and not the
*Sebastian* character when writing. I did that a lot. Anyway, I fixed the
'Alahara'/ 'Ahara' thing. Yeah, my bad. I reread that chapter when it was up on
FF.net and I smacked myself - like I'm often known to do - for my
"brilliance". I'm good. Yeah. Thanks so much for reviewing - my
writing keeps on coming half the time because of you and you only reviewed
twice. You just entertain me and keep me goin' - don't stop reviewing!

[Jodie]: Ah, my personal critic. I love you and we're only five and a half
chapters into the story. You're wesowesome. Ha, don't be so amazed at my 'two
chapters in one day' thing. It won't last long, ha, ha. Writer's block is like
a cold - can't get rid of it too easily and it *always* catches me, dude.
Annoying. But I'll keep at it, if only for you...and you know...everyone else,
too, of course. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

[skyleia]: Gracias, thank you. I'm very glad that I could interest at least a
few of you people in my story, thanks for reading!

[Mallory]: Ha, I thought I had five new people review for me and they were all
you - and you know what? That's even better! I was all, "Dude! That's a
good thing, right? Hell yeah!" You're awesome - I love your little reviews
that detail what you like - thank you so much! Stay tuned!

[metropolitanrubbish]: Thanks for reviewing! Keep reading and the characters
might get even a little more interesting, eh?

[Laura-lynn]: Thanks, new reviewer, you. Stay turned and I'm glad that you like
the plot!

[Eclipse]: Hey, thanks for the compliments - I'm thinking about a collection. I
have no idea about the planets' alignment! See, I heard from someone that
whenever the planets align something happens - forgot what - but I know it's not
that uncommon. So if anyone disproves me, I won't be surprised, but it's only
fiction, right?

 

[Pennypie]:
Gracias.

 

[Jodie]:
Hey, thanks for the review – it really did help me out. See, I was having kind
of writer’s block but the main thing was I was at a friend’s for a week – a bit
longer than I’d expected to be away and I couldn’t write there. I tried but –
no time. Anyway, I got home today/tomorrow...Whatever, it’ll be published as
the 7th but I got home on the sixth and I’m writing this at two a.m.
because of your review. Well, that and because I felt I hadn’t updated in a
while. Your review encouraged me and I hope you like this chapter – it’s a bit
we but but I think Draco’s character needed to thaw a bit from the frozen ice
sculpture of perfection that Hermione portrayed him as. Review, man and thanks
a bundle for your previous reviews!

 

[Everyone
else]: Hey dudes out there! I’m writing and not going to sleep because of you
and only you! Please read and review! And review other people’s stories – they
appreciate it. They really do. Plus, you’ll get a lot more author’s notes.