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I straightened my emerald tie, admiring mine and Parkinson's reflection in the long silver mirror hanging on the bathroom door. We looked good, not to be conceited or anything. But then again, we always looked good.
I yanked on a lock of her short black hair, winning an eye roll. She snapped at my pale hand playfully, baring her slightly crooked front teeth.
Pansy had always had crooked teeth, but no one at Hogwarts would fix them for her, and her mum refused to pay for something so mundane. She told her to "learn the spell and do it herself." And of course, Madam Pomfrey couldn't help but be biased against the Slytherin's, because of everything that they had always done.
They always chose the "Golden Trio" over the "Silver Trio," it was a given.
"Draaaaco," Parkinson sang, snapping me out of my internal pity party.
I looked at her and tucked a lock of hair behind her ears, smiling.
"Let's go," I replied, stepping out of the dorm room and slamming the door shut with a flick of my wrist.
We arrived at the Great Hall, and I slumped into my seat, avoiding the gazes of the other Houses. They all hated me because of the "Potter Stinks" pins I bewitched last year, even though they were the ones that bought them! Honestly, people be crazy sometimes.
I stacked my plate up with food I probably wasn't going to eat: stacks of fluffy waffles doused with syrup, bacon covered in grease, and yellow eggs cooked to perfection. The house elves really were good cooks, but I couldn't say that aloud, could I? People would think I was going soft.
As I gazed at the bustling crowd of people, one particular boy caught my eye. His green eyes glinted as he stared directly at me, directly into my soul. I winked lavishly, causing him to look down in embarrassment. I still hated Potter, but sometimes a boy just had to have fun, right?
He still drove me insane, but I felt pity for him. After he came back from the Portkey, clutching Cedric's body, everything changed. I didn't set out to hurt him as much as usual, because I knew what he said was true. Voldemort was back.
And I was slightly terrified.
I took a few bites of bacon, sighing at the heavenly taste. Food really was delicious when you didn't have to work for it.
Parkinson and Nott were giggling with their heads together as usual, inconspicuously holding hands under the table. Hello, wasn't it obvious? They could stop trying to hide it from everyone, because they all knew. To be honest, they were cute as hell. Both of them were narcissists, but they were narcissists together. That was the sickest sentence I'd ever thought. Ew.
Zabini nudged my shoulder, signaling towards the Gryffindor table. I let my eyes drift over the energetic house table, finally settling on Potter and his newfound dilemma. He kept casting furtive glances towards me, simultaneously inching away from the She-Weasel, who was too busy sucking off Thomas' face to notice.
I looked at my half-eaten bacon before deciding I was no longer hungry, and dropped it onto my plate, smirking at a helpless looking Potter. He slowly brought up his fist, flicking me off and turning to the Weasel, seemingly trying to distract himself.
"Get a room!" I heard Finnegan yell at the two lovebirds, with an ounce of resentment in his voice only I could detect. He was smiling, but he wasn't happy. Potter smiled at him knowingly, and they both cast their eyes back down to their plates.
She-Weasel stood up, pulling her lover up with her. "We will get a room," she said, planting a loud, sloppy kiss on him and rushing out of the Great Hall, giggling.
All of the tables struck up even louder conversations, excited to discuss the new piece of gossip. They would talk and talk and talk about it until it was like a worn out recording of a favorite song.
Crabbe cleared his throat, flicking his dark eyes back and forth between me and my plate.
"Y'gonna eat that?"
"No, you can have it," I responded, not quite invested in the conversation.
He gladly snatched my plate up, gobbling down the waffles. It was disgusting, the way him and Goyle ate. They ate almost as much as the Weasel did, and that was a lot. I didn't see how they did it.
I saw a flash of maroon robes out of the corner of my eye, and I instantly looked towards the Gryffindor table. Potter's seat was vacant, Weasel and Granger looking worried. Obviously not enough to go after him.
I stood up, straightening my clothes with a flourish. My pace was even as I reached the Great Hall doors, but I sped up as soon as my feet hit the stone floors of the hallway.
I found Potter in his usual place, sitting on the stairs leading up to the Astronomy Tower. He was leaning against the window, eyes closed in what seemed to be meditation.
Suddenly, an idea occurred to me. Instead of observing him in his relaxation, I could mess with him. Just a little bit. It would be fun.
"Well, well, well," I said with my usual sneer. "Look who it is."
As soon as the first syllable was out of my mouth, his eyes shot open and he leapt to his feet.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" His green eyes were glittering with menace as he spoke those five simple words.
The truth was, I didn't know what I wanted. To annoy him? Goad him into an argument? I didn't know.
I crossed my arms, leaning against the cold stone a few feet away from him.
"Who says I want anything? Maybe I just want to enjoy the view." I smirked, not knowing what else to do. Potter ran his golden hands through his hair, making it stand up on its ends.
I internally groaned as I watched him mistreat his hair. It had the potential to be gorgeous, it really did. He just never took care of it. It was maddening. Maybe I should introduce him to conditioner.
"Just leave me alone, please," he begged, startling me into speechlessness. I sat down on the stairs, patting the empty stone beside me.
He lowered himself to the ground, wary at my new demeanor.
"What's wrong?" I asked, surprising both of us. Normally I wouldn't be so outright in my attempts to wean secrets out of him, but this time it came out too quickly.
Another wide eyed look, and he sighed, lowering his face into his hands.
"I dunno," he mumbled into his hands, and I felt a twinge of sadness for the Boy Who Lived.
I didn't know what else to do, so I kept talking. "What do you mean 'you dunno'?"
Potter raised his head and looked at me, cocking a thick eyebrow at my concerned tone.
"I don't know what's wrong with me. There's so much going on."
"Well, you can tell me . . ."
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, hoooold up Draco. Why the fuck are you still carrying on this conversation? Just insult him and leave! Make him feel bad about his life and laugh! Stop caring.
"Okay," he said slowly, taking a deep breath. "Umbridge. She hates me. I never did anything wrong, but she hates me and takes everything out on me. You know how it is. And no one believes me. Voldemort is back, Malfoy, and you know it. Everyone knows it, but they refuse to accept it. They all want to ignore my warnings, and keep on living their happy little Voldy-free lives. I just don't know what to do anymore.
Potter winced as he realized what he said, and I sat there, trying to register it all.
"But you don't care about this stuff. Why are you here? Why aren't you hexing me right now?"
He's right. Why wasn't I hexing him? "It's my turn to say I don't know," I admitted, smiling to myself.
"I guess it's just relieving to hear that the Golden Boy has problems too, you know? I always wanted to be your friend, Potter. But you refused me. I suppose this is just another attempt to befriend you before everything goes downhill again."
"I didn't not want to be your friend, Malfoy. You were being rude and I decided to distance myself from you, and see if it was a one-time thing. The first time I met you, I thought we would be friends when we got to Hogwarts. But then everything changed."
That stumped me. He wanted to be my friend? Weird. I decided to change the subject before we got all soft on each other. I mean, he was still my mortal enemy.
"Does your confusion have anything to do with She-Weasel and her snogging partner?"
Potter's head whipped up, meeting my eyes. His were narrowed as he tried to figure out what I was playing at. When he stared at me long enough, he let his guard back down.
"Maybe just a little."
"Why do you care about someone like her?"
"It's not that I care a lot, which I do, but she was supposed to be my Valentine's date."
He trailed off, embarrassed at such a trivial problem.
"Let me get this straight. You're upset because of cancelled Valentine's Day plans?" I exclaimed, attempting to hold back the laughter bubbling in my throat.
Potter gave me a menacing glare, not even hiding the hurt written all over his face.
"Don't laugh at me, Malfoy. I don't see you going with anyone!"
I chuckled mildly, an inkling of a plan formulating in my brilliant mind. "Draco Malfoy doesn't need a date to attend a silly V-Day ball, Potter."
"Guess we're both going solo, then . . ." he said, trailing off as he registered the evil look on my face.
"So . . ." I began, throwing one long leg over the other. "The Golden Boy can't be seen at a ball alone, no matter how trivial it is, can he?"
". . . No," Potter drawled, confusion written clearly all over his face.
After a few seconds of torturing him, I placed my hand on his chest seductively.
He didn't move, but his breathing sped up, and he looked very uncomfortable. "W-what are you d-doing?" he sputtered, unsure of what was happening.
"How about . . . you go to the ball with me?"
Dead silence.
The only thing that you could hear was his uneven breathing. He stood up, causing my hand to fall in my lap like a deadweight.
"You want. Me. To go. To the ball. With you." It wasn't a question, merely a statement. Potter had this quirky habit of squinting his eyes when he was in distress, and he was doing it now. On top of the look on his face that said I was absolutely bonkers.
I raised one eyebrow coolly, examining my perfectly manicured nails. "Yeah. So?"
"So? So what? You're just going to ask me to a bloody ball after trying to kill me for the last five years?"
By now he was pacing up and down the stairs, his footsteps echoing on the stone. His head was shaking violently, and his nails were already bitten to shreds.
I stood up, grabbing his arm and stopping his frenzied panic.
"Give me a break, Potter!" I spat. "Do you really think I want to go to this ball with you?" He was such an idiot sometimes, I swear.
He shook his head violently once again and opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him.
"It would be purely professional. Arrive together, dance for a bit, then leave. Nothing else. This is simply to help you keep up your appearances." I released his arm, folding my hands together as I awaited an answer.
When he didn't say anything, I leaned forward so that out faces were inches apart. "Don't you want to make her jealous?" I whispered, making him shiver as my cool breath flowed over the soft skin of his neck. "Don't you?"
Potter whirled around, turning his back on me for a moment. He then turned around, bringing his face near mine again. "Okay," he whispered, locking eyes with me.
In a split-second decision, I closed the gap between us, pecking him on the lips, surprising the hell out of the both of us.
He backed away, cheeks flushed, and looked at me. "Okay," he repeated. "But only on one condition."
I gave him a challenging look, puffing my chest out a bit. "What?"
A smirk from him. "Well, no one is going to believe us if we just show up at the ball together and never hang out again. We'll have to pretend to date until the ball."
Oh. Alright.
"Brilliant!" I exclaimed, showing him more emotion than I was accustomed to doing. "Then we'll stage a fight about a week later, and no one will be the wiser."
"It's settled then. I accept the conditions, Draco," he said, drawing my first name out on his lips like it was as unfamiliar and sweet as a piece of foreign candy.
"Good, Potter," I responded, not using his first name. Not yet. I reached out my hand, quite aware of how asking for a handshake ended the first time. He pointedly ignored my hand, instead grabbing my tie and pulling me towards him, sealing the deal with a kiss.