He had pettied her then. Felt sorry for her. Which wasn't really weird, considering she'd gone with that twit to the Yule Ball. That was the first time he'd noticed her, the first time he'd ever felt sorry for someone.
Of course, he'd laughed at her, but he was expected to. He couldn't just tell his friends to shove off and ask her to dance. That wasn't who he was. Or at least, it wasn't how they thought he was.
Pansy thought he loved her. That he cared for her. How could he ever care for a girl like that? Sure, she had looks, but no brains, not at all. If she would ever think something smart, she'd surely die of the shock. Pansy should be the one to go with Neville Longbottom. They matched. She only cared for her statue at Hogwarts. To maintain her reputation as the beauty-queen of Slytherin. And to keep him. Like he was something you could own.
And when Pansy had insulted the fragile little girl, he wanted to hit her and run after the flaming hair down the corridor. To protect her, to hold her. But he could never do that. His father would kill him. She was a Gryffindor. He was a Slytherin. He was evil. He still despised mudbloods. He still cheered in the Slytherin Common Room when news of the Snake Lord's progress was heard. He was still evil. And she, the Saint herself, was friends with mudbloods. Her father was a muggle loving fool, as his father had called him.
And yet, he wanted to have her. To love her. He wanted affection, something neither his father or his mother had ever given him.
But gazing at her from across a library would never bring that. It wouldn't give him anything, just extra homework. He would have to act.
But would she show the same desire for him? Would she love him like he loved her? Would she kiss him? Shivers ran up his spine when that thought hit him. To kiss her. But did he have the guts? Did he, the Slytherin Dragon, have the guts to walk up to his desire and kiss her? Would he survive the wrat of her brother? Could he work up the courage? And again, he found himself returning to the same questions. Would she love him back? And would he survive her hot blooded lips on his? His cold blooded?
His mind went back to the time he'd kissed the mudblood. Why excactly did he do that? Was it her remark? About him being an incompotent worm with no other happiness in his life to give willing girls kisses that surely didn't hold up? That must have been it. But it didn't excuse his actions. His father had been furious with him. Until he had excused himself with the fact that she'd insulted him by hacking on his sex appeal. Then his father had laughed and said; 'I'm glad you shoved her, son!'
But he had never regretted his actions. That was something Malfoys didn't do. Regret things. He had not either thought it was disgusting to kiss her. She had actually grow from a skinny girl with horse-teeth to be a very beautiful seventeen year old woman. But he didn't want to do it again. She was Granger. A mudblood know-it-all. (And there also was the fact that she'd slapped him.)
The fiery weasel was another matter. How he ached to hold her in his arms. How he longed for it. But she had a crush on Harry Potter, the Wonder Boy. When he thought back on the time in his second year when he'd made fun of her Valentine to Potter, her heart broken face, his own heart broke. And Potter would surely not be all to happy about him laying his hands on the beautiful girl. Hell, Potter would surely kill him for laying his hands on the sixth year.
But sitting in a library hadn't any effect. He wouldn't get what he wanted by doing that. It wasn't like she would come up to him, sit down on his lap and kiss him senseless. Especially since she wasn't there anymore. Did he have an excuse to go and see her? Something that held up? Had she forgotten something?
Draco went over to her empty seat. Hogwarts; A History lay open on page 254. The last page about Salazar Slytherin. Wasn't that ironic?
She hadn't forgotten anything. Why did she have to be so perfect? Why couldn't she forget things? The book lay there. A thought struck in his head. Was it her book or did it belong to the library? He turned the pages. Her name was printed in the front. So she wasn't perfect. She did forget things.
Where was the Gryffindor Common Room? He'd been there once or twice. But two times in seven years didn't print a map in your head. He pondered on it while walking through the castle until he found himself in front the Arithmancy classroom. Students were coming out of it. Sixth years. He could see the fireweasel inside. It was the last night before Halloween and another three days of holiday. Was it her turn to-? Yes, it was. He watched as she asked her friends to go to dinner without her. He hid in the shadows as two girls walked out of the classroom, calling their goodbyes to their friend. After a few seconds, he entered.
She stood with her back against him. With a sigh, she started to collect the essays on the desks. Hadn't she heard him? He cleared his voice. She jumped and turned around. Her face changed colors from white to red and back to white.
'You forgot your book in the library-' he began. She took the book and continued to collect the essays.
'Thank you.' He watched as she placed the papers on the teacher's desk and grabbed her books.
'If you don't mind, could you hold these while I lock the door?' she asked. He took the books without a word. She drew out her wand and whispered a spell he didn't catch.
'Thank you.' She tried to take her books back, but he worked up the nerve.
'Shall I follow you to dinner?' His heart beat like a butterfly. She looked puzzled.
'You don't have to-' she said.
'I want to.' He replied. She was surprised.
'OK...' she said a little uncertain. They walked side by side down the corridor. They didn't speak. Draco had a strange feeling he was going to throw up. He walked after her. At the end of a stairwell, she turned to say something, but stumbled and Draco grabbed her wrists. They fell, him pinning her hands over her head, the books flying down another hallway. He wasn't thinking clearly. Before he knew it he was kissing her. And she kissed back. He could feel her shiver. Her lips were so hot on his cold ones. Genuivere... His desires ran through his mind. He wanted to-. But before he could act, she had done it for him. Her tounge was playing with his.
This was his desires. The Desires of Ice.