Grandma Butts and Muffin Tops:
Dammit. Draco thought. He tapped his foot impatiently on the cold stone floor of the classroom. He glanced at his watch; thirty-seven minutes until he could bolt out of the Transfiguration room and into the crowded corridors, where he could breathe freely. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out McGonagall's lecture so that he could concentrate on the echo of his foot on the stone. After a minute, he looked at his watch again.
Thirty-six minutes.
Draco groaned inwardly, and began to rap his fingers on his desk, receiving an annoyed glare from Pansy Parkinson, his deskmate. He scowled at her, and kept moving his fingers on the top of the desk. His breathing began to relax and his heart returned to its normal beat. He smiled slightly and began to listen to the lesson. Suddenly, a hand shot up from the front of the classroom and Draco's heart sank again.
"How about we let someone else answer for once, Miss Granger." McGonagall said, and several students tittered. "Five points for your eagerness." Hermione flushed indignantly and lowered her hand. Draco tried not to look at her, her heaving chest, her red cheeks, her frizzy mass of curls bouncing up and down whenever she moved, the graceful movements of her body as she leaned over to whisper something to Harry. He snarled at himself and shoved his hands into his pockets, staring down at his feet below the desk.
Lately, he had begun to notice her, probably more than he should. He had always considered her a dirty little Mudblood know-it-all, who had a knack for reading and getting into trouble with Potter and the Weasel. He had always despised her for getting higher marks than him in classes and for always tattling on him to the Headmaster. He had loved to taunt her relentlessly about her teeth and her hair and her blood status.
He had first started to become aware of her when she had punched him in the nose back in Third Year. No one had ever done something like that to him before, and to be frank, it aroused his mind. This tiny little swot of a witch had just hit him in the face and he was okay with it. That was the exact moment where he had realized that there was more to her than met the eye.
The first time he had seen that Granger was, in fact, a girl, was during the Yule Ball, Fourth Year, when she had walked out with that bloke Krum, in that gorgeous periwinkle dress that had flattered her budding figure quite nicely. He had been rendered speechless when he had seen that her teeth were of normal size, and that her curls had been tamed, and that her brown eyes had a tendency to sparkle.
During Fifth Year, he had been more than a little bit fascinated to find out about her involvement in Dumbledore's Army. The fact that Goody-Goody-Granger had actually done something so rebellious and so illegal turned him on slightly. And that's when he had realized how attractive she was. He had then had a marvelous epiphany; she was quite beautiful when she was riled up. So, naturally, he took to making her angry, simply to see that little body flare up with anger.
Another thing that intrigued him was the fact that he couldn't have her. Being who he was, he was used to having his way practically all the time. It both infuriated and infatuated him that she was the one thing that he couldn't have for himself. He was handsome, quite handsome, and quite charming as well as a good shag, and he had a way with women. They usually loved him. She didn't love him, not at all. In fact, he knew she couldn't stand him, and that just added to his desire to own her, to make her his.
And now, here he was, Sixth Year, desperately wanting Hermione Granger. It was absolute hell to sit through classes with her in the room. No matter how hard he tried, his eyes would wander over to her, and they would graze down that body of hers, and he'd drink her in as best he could, until he felt creepy and would look away, only to be drawn back again minutes later. Today, her skirt kept riding up her thigh, and his eyes couldn't seem to pull away from his view of her creamy skin. He ground his teeth as he felt a problem start to arise in his lower regions. Crossing his legs in discomfort, he gripped the sides of the desk until his knuckles began to turn white.
Bloody hell, Draco, get a hold of yourself. You only have...Draco looked at his watch, ten minutes to go. You can do this. Think about things that are sure to turn you off. Draco nodded to himself, and began to rack his brain for disgusting things. He looked over at Pansy, his usual go-to for a good Boner Dethroner. Not working. He huffed and closed his eyes, acutely aware of his Little Problem.
Come on, man. Dumbledore naked, Snape taking a crap, Crabbe and Goyle making out...
These revolting thoughts seemed to help momentarily, but he felt his Little Friend rise up again as the class ended and she stood up, beaming at something that Potter had said, the Weasel guffawing behind her. He groaned and stood up, unfortunately directly behind her, giving his imagination the freedom to concoct dirty visions of things he could do to her from behind. The Problem began to get bigger, until she moved and he was able to walk in front of her, breathing deeply. He gasped as she bid her two friends good-bye and turned to him with a grin. Her eyes wandered Down There and her grin widened. Draco's mouth ran dry.
"Try thinking of grandma butts and muffin tops." she said, laughing wickedly and walking away.
Grandma butts and muffin tops, he'd have to remember those.
A/N: So I know I need to update one of my other stories, but what the hell, I had this idea and I wanted to type it up. I was actually supposed to be typing a paper, but that can wait. (: I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! See, I haven't put a story up in forever, so I'm all jittery about this one!
Review! It's for the children. Think of the children.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter franchise or any of the characters included in this story. They all belong to the lovely Ms. Rowling, and I envy her greatly.
