DNA
PROLOGUE
"Why won't you go out with me, Gillan?" Potter asks, snagging my wrist just before I manage to step onto the staircase in an attempt to get away from him and his questioning. He pulls me towards him, and I find that I'm turning towards him willingly.
If he had asked me this question several months ago, I would have screamed reasons at him left, right and centre. Most likely until my throat was raw. But for some reason, now, my tongue is stuck, and my palms are sweating, and I'm seemingly struggling to string two words together to make a simple sentence.
One, I force myself to think, he's an arrogant, bully toe rag, who's idea of fun is hexing random Slytherins in the corridors. Two, he's not my type. He's far too handsome (although I'd never admit it aloud), far too flirtatiously charming, and far too obnoxious for my liking. And three...
"You would hurt me."