Summary for : Draco Malfoy is a sophisticated, talented, confident- "conceited, egotistical, ferret faced, weasel!" "What are you on about now, you daft woman!" Can't you just feel the love? M for mild swearing and perversion. Draco/OC R&R
Disclaimer: Well, I tried stealing at least Draco from the clutches of Rowling but, sadly, I haven't achieved my goal as of yet… I'll keep you updated though!
Warning: Novice writer at work...
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Feel the Love?
Chapter 1: Sharing with Malfoy
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Crap! Elizabeth Mayfield mentally swore, breaking into a sprint down the stairs outside her Gryffindor dorm and pelting out of the common room, her long midnight black hair flying behind her. She cursed her habit of destroying her alarm clock when it chimed annoyingly on her bedside table. Because she had thrown the old fashioned cylinder alarm clock hard against the wall, shattering it into many sharp pieces, one of which had pierced her foot as she trudged reluctantly to the bathroom, Elizabeth, or 'Lizzie' as others referred to her, was late for class. And on the first day of term too!
Knocking over a bunch of gossiping Slytherin third years, Lizzie jumped down half a flight of stairs, thanking her lucky stars that Harry Potter had managed to convince her to help him with Quidditch back in third year. Because of that deceptive childishly innocent face he would pull whenever she would reject his offers, Lizzie couldn't help herself from obeying his every wish and command. Thankfully, Harry's childish face morphed into something more mature in fifth year so he could no longer take advantage of her kind nature towards the innocent.
And people think he's so purely naive! Lizzie remembered thinking as she whisked past the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry had used his 'innocent' face to get her to postpone her Potions work and sneak down to Hogsmeade with him. In the end, they had somehow ended up in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. Apparently, Harry had misread his enchanted Marauder's Map and accidently led her there. Coincidently, he also needed information on the Blasterskrewits lurking in the forest. So poor Elizabeth had spent most of that night learning exactly why the forest was forbidden, gotten only two hours of sleep, and, during the Potions lesson the next day, endured Snape's self-esteem lowering bellowing because her work was incomplete while Harry aced Care of Magical Creatures.
I'm one of the only people in the world who know how bloody manipulative he is!
Perhaps that manipulative side of Harry was the reason that ratty old Sorting Hat had almost placed him in Slytherin.
Lizzie shook all these reminiscent thoughts out of her head and focused on getting to the dungeons as fast as her long legs could take her. Not only was she late on her first day, she was late for Potions; meaning another telling from Professor Snape. Professor Snake more like it!
As she knocked down another third year, Ravenclaw by the looks of it, Lizzie was found staring at a black iron door. She closed her eyes and attempted to compose herself. This door would lead her to her desired location but entering the classroom beyond it would mean a stern, not to mention embarrassing, lecturing in front of her fellow Gryffindors and, she suddenly remembered, the Slytherins!
A wave of nausea washed over Lizzie as she gripped the circular iron handle of the door in front of her. If the Slytherins were in there, that would mean he would be there watching her humiliation.
Oh hell no! Not this year! Lizzie screamed in her head dramatically, turning and readying herself to bolt away from the door when suddenly…
"How lovely of you to finally grace us with your presence, Miss Mayfield." Drawled out a monotone voice after a loud ear-piercing 'Screech!'echoed across the dim candle lit hallway.
Lizzie, like a deer caught in front of headlights, closed her eyes and turned her body to face Professor Snape. She slowly opened her frosty blue eyes and looked nervously at the looming professor before her. It actually was truly frightening.
The light streaming out of the classroom, obstructed by Snape's tall figure, outlined his intimidating body, giving the already frightening professor a menacing glow. It felt like he was the wall blocking Lizzie from Heaven!
Not only did this light outline Snape but it also illuminated his sharp features. Every wrinkle present on the aged professor's face became revoltingly obvious and the way his eyebrows were raised menacingly gave him the look of a mad serial killer. Adding the upturned nose and sadistic smirk to the equation equaled a very terrified and anxious Elizabeth Ann Mayfield.
Professor Snape side stepped, allowing Lizzie to enter. "Come in."
She obliged and meekly entered the deafeningly silent classroom. Like for the past six years, the Potions classro- dungeon remained the same: bleak and dark with the faint remnants of a torture chamber. Lizzie and her fellow students could only conclude that with all the jars on the shelves containing rotten looking limbs; the chains, nets, clubs, and maces hanging on the walls; the faded claw and nail marks embedded deep behind the blackboard, shelves, and other objects placed as though attempting to obstruct their viewing; and the faint scent of burning flesh hanging in the air that this dungeon was, and maybe still is, used for the infliction of torture.
Every time she was late for Potions, the class would remain silent; awaiting Snape's droning lecture and Lizzie's mortification. All eyes were on her as she fiddled with the end of her skirt and took her seat beside the center of her hatred: Draco Malfoy.
Lizzie cursed the alphabet: Mayfield, Elizabeth; Malfoy, Draco.
Just what she needed; the jumped up, ferret faced, little weasel smirking and sending her snide remarks! Well this day had started off just smashingly!
And the day kept getting better and better…
"Miss Mayfield…" Snape began, striding to the front of the classroom. He pointed to the chalk drawing of a strange pear-like plant and continued in his dull English drawl. "Can you tell me the sole magical property of Belgian beet roots?"
Lizzie rubbed the nail of her thumb painfully across the tip of her middle finger; a tendency she developed at a young age to relieve herself of any stress and/or anxiety she was feeling. But alas, it was to no avail as she shook her head 'no' and gazed curiously into the black abyss that was Professor Snape's eyes.
"Well…" Professor Snape's eyes narrowed, as though eying his prey, and curled his lips into a cruel smirk. "If you had merely arrived on the stated time… You would have known that the only magical property held in a Belgian beet root is its sensitive out layer which provides many necessities when preparing what potions, Miss Mayfield?"
Lizzie clenched her jaw and bit her tongue to stop herself from lashing out. She, as well as the rest of the class, was very well aware that the magical outer layer of a Belgian beet root was a subject yet to be discussed in the previous years and whether she had arrived on time or not would not have made much difference. But Professor Snape didn't seem to mind; as though he expected Lizzie to read ahead and memorize every little bit of information like Hermione Granger who was currently waving her hand in the air in a mad frenzy.
"No, sir." Lizzie stated simply, trying to keep her composer calm and serene as opposed to nervous and uncomfortable as she was truly feeling so.
Professor Snape genuinely loved his mental torture.
"Ah…" Professor Snape sighed mockingly before looking pointedly at Lizzie. "Then you had better open your seventh year Potions book to page nine and learn."
"Yes, professo-"
No, it was far from over.
"But," Professor Snape cut you off, tilting his head to the side in mock confusion. "You seem to have misplaced your satchel, Miss Mayfield."
Lizzie would have gasped in shock if she hadn't been clenching her jaw. Beside her seat, where she usually kept her satchel filled with her needed books, was an empty space. This empty space was so ugly and obvious; Lizzie couldn't fathom why she had been so oblivious to this. A dizzying feeling, similar to the wave of nausea, coursed through Lizzie's system, making her feel sick to her stomach. She had forgotten her satchel in her dorm.
"Now, now, Miss Mayfield." Professor Snape teased maliciously. "Being a seventh year, I thought you have been more responsible with your belongings. Especially necessary ones."
"I-I…" Lizzie stammered, feeling stupid and vulnerable. Snape truly knew how to pull his punches.
She could see in her dorm, beside her haphazardly thrown duvet, a red satchel decorated with golden linings. The red satchel she so desperately needed right this very moment. Lizzie took a large, almost unnoticeable, gulp. "I hadn't prepared myself for… today, sir."
But Professor Snape's eagle eyes quickly took notice, widening his harsh smirk. "Than I suggest you prepare next time… Ten points from Gryffindor!"
Small, almost inaudible, groans erupted from the crowd of Gryffindors, some seated unwillingly next to their Slytherin counterparts who continued to tease them mercilessly.
But none of them had it worse than you.
"The first day and you've already managed to lose house points." Malfoy smirked, nonchalantly placing his chin on the palm of his hand. "And here I thought I would never live to see the day Gryffindor lost by minus."
"You won't live to see tomorrow if you don't shut up, Malfoy!" Lizzie hissed, feeling humiliated and harassed; which she probably was.
"Seeing as though Miss Mayfield has irresponsibly left her books in her dorm and sending her there to retrieve them would only allow more time to be lost," Professor Snape declared loudly with no remorse, much to Lizzie's mortification. She winced, not really expecting another jibe, though as she contemplated the situation, she should have. Professor Snape sneered. "Mister Malfoy will share his books with her."
Now that most definitely got to her.
"No!" Lizzie blurted out without thinking. Bells and chimes went off in her head whilst a petrified voice screamed: BAAAAAD IDEA!!!
"What was that, Miss Mayfield?" Professor Snape snapped, widening his eyes threatening at Lizzie, causing her to recoil in her seat and shake her head vigorously, an odd squeaking noise producing from her throat as she did. Professor Snape smiled heartlessly. "Good."
Lizzie shuddered and sighed in relief upon seeing Snape flick his wand towards the chalkboard, erasing the picture of the cursed Belgian beet root.
Her relief was short lived.
"Aw, is poor ickle Wizzie scared of big old Snape?" Malfoy commented in a baby voice.
"Finally!" Lizzie exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "You're acting your age!"
"No need to take your anger out on me, book buddy." Malfoy whispered back, smirking infuriatingly.
Why does he have to remind me…!? Lizzie hissed in her head, leaning over only ever so slightly to catch a glimpse on the words written. But Malfoy, being the kind, gentle, loving soul he was, slid the book further away from her.
"Malfoy…" Lizzie seethed warningly.
He just looked at her with a raised eyebrow before returning his gaze back to the book, refusing to slide it closer to Lizzie.
Lizzie narrowed her blue eyes in annoyance. He was acting like a spoilt child!
But Lizzie knew nothing she did would make him listen to her so, sliding along the long wooden seat; Lizzie leaned closer to Malfoy, squinting to see the words. But again, annoyingly so, Malfoy slid his book and this time, himself further along the seat, away from her.
Lizzie was boiling with anger and irritation now. With her eyes narrowed dangerously, her lips pressed tightly together, and her small hands clenched into fists, she was like a serpent ready to strike.
She placed her feet firmly on the ground before zooming quickly along the bench, ready to snatch the book away from Malfoy's strong fingers and push him to the ground!
But just as Lizzie launched herself, Malfoy did the same, sliding the book with him.
This caught Lizzie by surprise as she tripped over her feet and landed, face first, into Malfoy's lap. Though she hadn't touched it, Lizzie knew her face was near his groin area. And this reality made her cheeks burn furiously.
"Now, now Miss Mayfield," Malfoy imitated Snape in a much more seductive manner, pulling on strands of Lizzie's flowing black hair. "Being a seventh year and a royal pain in the arse, I thought you wouldn't be throwing yourself at my services… So to speak…"
Lizzie's cheeks continued to burn as she shakily placed one hand on the desk and the other on the bench for support and lifted her face from Malfoy's warm lap.
"You should really sit back down normally, Mayfield." Malfoy's hot breath wisped around Lizzie's ear as he whispered this to a flustered Miss Mayfield. "Or everyone will get the wrong idea."
It was only then did Lizzie realize her position. Though her face was no longer dug into his lap, she was still facing his groin area at short arms length away. This realization caused poor Lizzie to blush an even deeper shade of red before hastily pushing herself away, knocking the back of her head against Malfoy's jaw in the process.
"Merlin! What are you trying to do to me!?"
Lizzie nursed the back of her head and sighed.
This was going to be a long lesson.
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Boring and rather pointless, no? Well this is just the beginning of the torture I shall force you readers to endure! Ha ha ha!
Anyways, leave a little review stating how useless I am at writing or how stupid this story is going to be. I dunno! Write what you feel, that's what I always say!
Ciao for now!
Useless writer wannabe,
XoXoMaya-ChanXoXo