A/N: Don't hate me! I've hit a rut with my other stories, and this one just popped into my head! So, while I'm still trying to figure out what to write next in 'Broken' and 'Friends With Benefits,' I have started this little three-part "Definitions" series. I hope you enjoy it! :)

Disclaimer: Zilch.

Irresistible: 1) incapable of being resisted or withstood; 2) what Draco Malfoy thinks he is.

That September morning dawned bright and beautiful. The students of Hogwarts bustled about merrily, relishing in those first few weeks of term—the only weeks that could, in any universe, be deemed easy. The word didn't even really apply, but in comparison with the rest of the year, they most definitely were.

A certain, seventh-year Slytherin—one Draco Malfoy—strutted the halls during free period, which, for him, lasted from roughly ten-thirty until lunch. He had completed most of his requirements for becoming an Auror (which, much to the chagrin of his family, he fully intended to pursue that career), and therefore had three free periods during the course of his week to look forward to. In fact, the only classes he had to take were Potions (which he enjoyed anyway), Defense Against the Dark Arts (this came easily to him, as he knew more about the Dark Arts than almost anyone else in the whole school, and thus, knew how to defend against them), and Transfiguration. Admittedly, that one gave him some trouble, but he had no doubts that he would pass with at least an Acceptable, possibly an Exceeds Expectations. And that was good enough for him. It was impossible to please that old bat McGonagall.

Unless you were a Gryffindor, of course.

He supposed he had no room to complain; after all, Snape showed equally blatant favoritism toward the Slytherins. But what good did that do him? Draco was already good at Potions.

These thoughts were interrupted as Draco came upon an amusing sight. Goyle, one of his frequent partners in crime, stood in the center of the hallway, with the little Weaselette in front of him, and a sobbing first year boy off to the side. It wasn't hard to deduce the circumstances of this situation: Goyle had said or done something rude to the first year, Weaselette had happened upon them, and was now giving the mammoth idiot a piece of her mind. The sad part? Goyle actually looked scared.

Draco stealthily crept closer, taking care not to be seen. It wasn't too hard, since the redheaded brat was facing away from him, the first year was too distraught to notice anything, and Goyle was... not the brightest of individuals. As he neared them, he listened to their argument.

"...someone your own size for a change! Or," she amended, "better yet, why don't you pick on someone with the same size of brain! Then, instead of torturing first years, you'll be taking on cows, or sheep, or mountain trolls!"

Draco smirked; he had to admit, that one was pretty good.

"I'm not gonna fight a troll!" Goyle grumbled.

She let out an exasperated groan. "Let me make this as... monosyllabic as possible, Goyle. Either you leave the first years alone, or I will track you down and kick your arse so hard, you'll wish you were fighting a troll!" She leaned closer. "Got it?"

"You're just a stupid girl! You can't hurt me!"

Oh, hell.

As the redhead withdrew her wand and prepared herself for the attack, Draco took it upon himself to intervene. Donning his best smirk, he began applauding loudly. She-Weasel jumped, whirling around to scowl at him.

"Bravo," he sneered. "Excellent work. Really, I only wish I'd had time to pop some popcorn. Great show!"

Her scowl deepened. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I was just walking along the corner, minding my own business—" she scoffed, and he ignored her, "—when I happened upon you. I must say, Weaselette, though I give you points for moxie, your argument was awfully violent. Better be careful. Talking like that can land you in detention."

"Sod off, you great ferret," she seethed. "I'm not afraid of you."

Draco's cheek twitched. He'd known she was feisty, but to this extent? He supposed he'd never really gone out of his way to cause trouble for her specifically, so he had not witnessed her fire in its full glory. This made him curious. "I actually came to find Goyle," he said, turning to his comrade. "Professor Snape wants to talk to you. You'd better hurry."

Goyle nodded once, and started down the hall toward the dungeons. Draco turned to the little first year. "Unless you need something myself or Ms. Weasley, I suggest you head to your classes." The young boy stood motionless. "Go on, then!"

"EEP!" he jumped, then scurried off.

"What is it with you Slytherins?" She-Weasel snapped. "You all seem to find the need to terrorize younger students! What makes you think you have the right?"

Draco didn't answer, simply watching her with interest, while also formulating a plan in his mind. "You really aren't afraid of me, are you?"

She gave another scoff. "Please. You're like a house fly. Stupid, annoying, and often in the way. All it would take is one good swat to get rid of you. Yet you've mastered the art of cowardly flight."

Anger flashed through him, but he fought to stay calm. "Let me make one thing clear, Weasley," he murmured, advancing toward her. As he'd hoped, she responded by stepping backward, meeting his eyes with that same glare. A moment later, her back hit the wall, and some of the bravado faded from her expression. Draco inched closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "I am not a coward," he breathed.

"Prove it," she countered. "Kiss me."

Draco was stunned; had she really just told him to kiss her? But even more than that, he was shocked by his own reaction. Though his mind screamed at him, though all common sense would prohibit such an action... he wanted to. He wanted to show her, once and for all, that he was not a coward. And the male side of him wanted some action. He'd been inactive far too long. With a gleam in his eyes, he leaned forward, his breath mingling with hers, their lips nearly touching...

"You're not a coward," she whispered, "but you are stupid."

He glanced sharply at her. "What?"

She smirked his smirk. "Do you really think I'd let you kiss me?"

And just like that, he was thrown backwards as an invisible force blasted him away from her. He hit the wall with a resounding thud, then crashed to the floor, groaning in pain from the impact. He glanced at the girl before him, who brandished her wand and laughed merrily. "Bravo," she mocked him. "I only wish I had popcorn." With a saucy wink, she skipped away. "See ya, Ferret!"

Draco watched her in awe, unable to believe what had just happened. He'd not only been disarmed, but completely outsmarted. By a Weasley! Though he was definitely angry, and a certain desire for revenge rose within him, he couldn't help that same tingle of curiosity. How was it that a girl like her had been able to resist him? And most infuriating, how the hell did he let her get under his skin like that? Why had he reacted to her in such a way? And why was he still thinking about kissing her?

Resolved to answer these questions, and more that he didn't dare even form in his mind, he decided that he would be seeking out the She-Weasel much more often.

A/N: Don't forget to review!