"She said. He said. Who cares who said it? I just want to know if it's true!" Draco sputtered, utterly fed up with Pansy's story telling capabilities. He had been sitting with her and Blaise in the Slytherin common room, for oh, about half an hour. He had a perfectly made bed waiting for him, he wasn't going to waste the night with frivolous gossip. Although he had to admit he was quite interested in this nights particular topic.
"Well maybe if you stopped interrupting!" She huffed, a slight tinge of frustration touching her cheeks. "I'm just trying to explain how it all happened, and you know information changes as it goes through different people. I'm making sure you know how many people it's gone through."
"Common Pansy, I don't ask for much. "
"Draco Lucius Malfoy, that is the biggest lie I've ever heard come out of your mouth."
"It's true mate." Blaise pointed out. He didn't contribute much to these sorts of conversations, just making useless points that stated what had already been discussed.
"Fine! You guys win, continue with your story Pansy." Draco relented, waving Pansy on with the air of someone who was trying not to act as if the loss affected them; when it obviously did.
"As I was saying, we probably wouldn't have heard about this if it weren't for Moreius Istel and Lily Prismall. They may be Slytherin, but they happen to have quite a few friends in the other houses. To be honest, I've confronted Lily about how she does it, and she was quite rude. Told me that she just didn't act like a straight up bitch 24/7."
Pansy paused as if she had lost her place, but Draco figures she was just doing all of this to annoy him. He could attest to the fact that yes, it was definitely pissing him off.
"Moreius and Lily furthering inter house relations." Blaise piped up, obviously just as annoyed at Pansy as Draco was.
"Thank you Blaise."
"Any time. "
"So, they're probably the only two people who bring information to Slytherin ears. I'm quite thankful for it, although Lily should get eaten alive. Either way, they told Astoria and she ended up telling me, and now I'm telling you."
"Pansy!" Draco nearly jumped out of his chair to strangle her, how long could one story take? He didn't strangle her, no matter how much he would like to, but he did kick Blaise. Who promptly pulled a lock of Pansy's hair with a quick snap.
"Okay, God! I think it's true. We Slytherins are charming and amazing to put it lightly. Why shouldn't The Boy Who Lived have a crush on one of us? It's probably one of the nicer ones though; like Daphney or Sylvia."
"Finally, this has taken about an hour, and now I'm going to bed!" Draco stood up, his chair scooting backwards as much as the carpet would let it, and a few first years looking up from their books in curiosity.
"What's your problem Pretty Boy?" Pansy pouted, reaching a hand out as if to pull him back down. But Draco was having none of it, he swished his roads out of reach in what he hoped was a regal manner, and stormed off.
"Does Malfoy have a crush on the Boy Who Lived?" Blaise called out, snickering at the glare Draco shot over his shoulder. His mirth was short-lived, as Pansy collapsed into a fit of giggles at the pig nose that had morphed onto Blaise's face.
Draco stomped up the stairs. Tiny first years, second years, third years, and even fourth years scuttling out of his way, giving him as much space possible as he trekked his way up the stairs to his room. Hopefully no one would be there. He prayed to the ghost of Salazar Slytherin and all the divination teachers in the universe.
Stepping into his room, he soaked in the sound of silence, the lack of voices, the void of annoying bickering. It wasn't late just yet, but Draco was tired. He hadn't gotten all that much sleep last night, and this afternoon had been emotionally taxing. Rumors had been spreading throughout Hogwarts faster than Roderick Plumpton could catch the Snitch; supposedly the boy who lived, the brilliant Harry fucking Potter, had an adorable little crush on someone in Slytherin. As Draco really thought about it for the first time, he felt his heart constrict in what could only be righteous, blood boiling anger. How dare that filthy Gryffindor try to put his paws all over the Slytherin's good name.
"Pompous bastard." Draco muttered, more to the room than to himself. Laying out the clothes he would be wearing tomorrow, and placing his books and parchment in his bag, so he didn't have to rush the next morning; he finally threw himself onto his bed. Probably more dramatic than he actually needed to be, but such was the way of a Malfoy. Draco fell asleep with thoughts of Harry Potter putting his hands all over... things.
When Draco woke up, it was harder to call his feeling blood boiling rage, and somewhere in the back of his brain, it was decided that if Potter had a teensy crush on him, he wouldn't really mind.