Okay. So this is my first attempt at dramione. This one is really short, I know. But hope you guys like it.


Draco Malfoy was undoubtedly a sexy name. The kind of name that witches would be tempted to pronounce with a curl in their voice. The kind of name that just might raise the hair at the back of your neck when spoken with the appropriate finesse. So it was very confusing to the owner of this name as to why a certain muggleborn witch refused to say it. He would keep waiting for the moment to arrive in between of their heated banters and scathing retorts. But she would utter the word "ferret" and he would burn each time.

His problem was a very peculiar one. He would, not for one moment, hesitate to call her a mudblood. That's what she was, after all. An infuriating mudblood with eyes and hair the color of wet mud and a disgusting mouth which spewed a variety of things in a screeching voice..all but his name. She was a mudblood but he was no ferret. He was Draco Malfoy, her superior, and he was to be addressed in a manner apt for the superior people.

He stood there leaning against the wall of a dimly lit corridor, the one where she was soon to be patrolling tonight. There was still no sign of her, and Draco was getting more agitated by the minute

.

It had taken great effort from his side to finally procure the patrolling schedule for the Gryffindor prefects. It wasn't everyday that he decided to corner a muggle-born witch with certain harmless, albeit not-so-noble intentions. But he was a shameless Slytherin with high ambition and he had lately found himself dead bent to get the goddamn bint to utter his attractive name in his attractive presence. He could have planned to pursue his personal mission when there were people around who could witness her name uttering. But he ultimately decided that, a sodding Gryffindor or not, she would be easier to intimidate alone. Queer as it may be, but his mounting agitation over the issue of his name had now become unbearable..which was why he found himself pressed against the wall, waiting for the object of his frustration.

A sudden peal of laughter caught his attention and he looked curiously towards the source of the noise. Hermione Granger appeared from the distant corner, squealing in delight with the Weasel in tow. Apparently Potter had been held back by that pathetic fool of a headmaster. Rumour had it that he had been receiving vigourous training in order to defeat the Dark Lord, personally from the headmaster. Training my arse, Draco thought bitterly. The so called Chosen One couldn't perform magic beyond the ability of an erratic 8 year old wizard. The duo made their way through the corridor, whispering excitedly about something Draco didn't care to know.

Somehow the sight was more nauseating than usual;with Potterboy being there, making it the Golden Trio. He sneered in the Weasel's direction who caught his eye and stopped grinning abruptly. Granger followed her companion's line of sight and her gaze rested on him. Then she made a great show of rolling her eyes heavenward and continued walking without as much as batting an eyelid.

Draco shifted his feet.

"Fancy meeting you here,Weasley. Aren't you supposed to be snoring out in your dormitory by now?"

Weasley's nostrils flared and he moved towards him in what he surely supposed to be a frightening manner. He stopped a feet away from him.

"Malfoy. Sod off."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Ever the charming conversationalist you are. Did your lunatic brothers pass on the talent to you?"

Weasel turned bright red, no doubt embarrassed at being compared to his older siblings.

Granger stepped in. "Ignore him. Let's just finish our patrols."

Draco turned his attention towards her, eyes narrowing a fraction.

"Yes, Weaselbee. Run along and follow her like the whipped little puppy you are."

Weasley staggered forward and grabbed his collar. "You bloody-"

"Ron!" Granger said, tugging at his elbow,"We're on patrols. You'll get in trouble!"

He didn't budge.

"Ron. Lets go."

He relented and let go of him.

Draco smirked. "Whipped."

"Did you want something?", Granger finally turned to him, "Or did you plan to hang here on the wall all night like an annoying loudmouth painting?"

She paused.

"You know, you're quite an eyesore."

He stared at her for a moment.

"One of these days, Mudblood, someone will put you in your place and you better hope that it's not me."

"Oh, believe me, ferret", she scoffed, "I'll be holding my breath."

"You better be, Granger," he replied, pushing off the wall and uncrossing his arms, "I'll make it worth your while."

Without waiting for her retort, he turned on his heel and made his way towards the dungeons. Satisfied at having had the last word, and deeply unsatisfied for everything else.