A/N: I don't own HP, yadda yadda yadda. Believe me, if I did, Malfoy would have overpowered Voldemort and gone on to be an uber-sexy evil demon. And I would have married Tom Felton, or at least the look-alike who goes to my school.
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Slumped back in his seat, black-booted feet propped on the luggage rack opposite, a very unenthusiastic Draco Malfoy waited for the start of the train back to school. He was perusing the students entering the train outside his compartment, trying to ignore his cronies stuffing themselves with Chocolate Frogs a few feet away. He noticed many of the girls giving him appreciative glances as they passed by- and why shouldn't they? He knew his black leather jacket and tight black shirt emphasized his pale skin and oh-so-casually styled blonde hair. All the girls were given an once-over by his icy eyes as they passed by; some were definitely worth his efforts this term.
Spying a black helmet-haircut bobbing outside the entrance to the train, Draco groaned inwardly. Pansy was good shag, sure, but was entirely too clingy. She didn't seem to notice, however, that he rarely returned her affections except in bed, which was a good thing. Monogamy just wasn't something that he was into.
She sauntered into the compartment, her red plaid miniskirt barely covering her ass. Stretching sinuously as she pushed her bag onto the luggage rack, the slits in her black tank-top exposed enough skin to make it clear she hadn't bothered wearing a bra. Crabbe and Goyle both stopped stuffing their faces to leer at her over-exposed body. Pansy settled herself next to Draco, looking up at him through mascara-encrusted lashes.
"Miss me?" she purred throatily as she ran black-lacquered fingernails through his carefully gelled hair. Draco bit back a wince- it had taken him a good hour to get it just so casually messed.
"Mmmmm," he murmured noncommittally, still watching the coming and goings of people outside the compartment. He made a face as Potter, friggin' Potter, strolled through the train as if he owned it with the Weaselette draped on his arm. He had this sappy schoolboy look about him as she whispered in his ear and nuzzled her long nose against his neck. Weaselette's brother followed the lovebirds, obviously deeply disturbed at the affection between his best friend and his sister.
That's weird, Draco thought. The third member of the golden trio is missing- I wonder if they finally had the sense to ditch that bookworm. Then his brain did a double-take as a familiar figure stepped onto the train. HOLY SHIT! THE MUDBLOOD GOT CURVES!
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