Blissful Ignorance
Everybody had their reasons. Draco knew that.
He knew why Crabbe always sat the farthest away from the fireplace. He knew why Goyle ate in a clockwise motion. He knew why Pansy always slept with a light on. He knew why Theo never stayed in a room by himself. He knew why Blaise tended to be a loner. He knew why Millicent screamed during the night.
Slytherins were family, even if they didn't like each other, but curses were never thrown. Harm more than a few well placed words never occurred.
He knew logic. He knew cunning. He knew loyalty.
But for the life of him, he didn't know what his reasons were to snogging mudblood Granger on the Astronomy Tower or why he couldn't get her out of his head.
He was sure she had her reasons for seeking him out. It was probably as some illogical way to get back at Weasel. Truthfully, he didn't particularly care. If the mudblood had a death wish, then let her wish it – not that he could kill her.
Not after this.
He couldn't lie and say he wasn't enjoying himself.
But he was.
Immensely.
Who knew that touching filth could be that… enticing? Who knew that Granger had it in her? Who knew that he would let her touch him, much less kiss him?
He supposed he had his reasons.
He knew she did – whatever that her malfunctioning Gryffindor brain could accomplish.
He could lie and say he cared to know what they were. He really didn't.
He could spare a moment for blissful ignorance.