Tainted Pumpkin Juice and Dirty Thoughts
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Draco. Boy, I wish I did. But I don't. I don't own Hermione, or anything else except the plot.
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This is just something I came up with listening to The Stills and not in the mood to finish my other fic. It's not nearly the best, I never really intended for it to become anything, but it's just a plot bunny. I don't really think this even has a plot. Oh well. This, ladies and gentlemen is my lame attempt at trying to be funny.
Don't flame. I warned you about the horrible humor.
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Draco Malfoy was watching her.
He'd never admit it, of course, but he had been and was still watching her. Once or twice she'd looked his way, but he'd just thrown his usual smirk and she would just scowl at him and turn away back to her two little wanker best friends.
He scoffed.
Typical. Absolutely typical.
All through lunch, he'd watched her laugh with them, converse with them, smile at them, and then occasionally snap at her ginger-haired Weasel boy.
Once again, typical. So disgustingly typical.
But he didn't turn away.
He didn't know why. Maybe he was fascinated, or maybe someone had just put something in his drink. But then again, what would be so fascinating about the bloody golden trio?
He looked down at his drink. Pumpkin juice.
He squinted, as he reached for it and drew it closer to his face. The cool liquid sat inside, and he narrowed his eyes.
He could see his reflection in the colored fluid.
He furrowed his eyebrows.
Was pumpkin juice supposed to do that?
Just then, he felt someone tap his arm.
"Malfoy? Malfoy?" he didn't look up from his pumpkin juice, as he just scowled.
"What?" he hissed. "What do you want?" Crabbe grunted.
"That Mudblood girl is looking at you." Draco's gaze rose up instantly towards the Gryffindor table.
He caught her before she quickly turned away. He smirked.
She had been looking at him. But then he looked questionably at her, though her back was turned to him now.
Why on earth would she look at him and then turn away when he looked up?
"Merlin," he said to himself. "That Mudblood's got issues." He heard Crabbe and Goyle agree beside him.
Though, he continued to sit there and look at her. And watch her.
It was strangely and utterly odd. He was watching Hermione Granger, the Mudblood he loved to hate.
It was even more strange and odd when he found himself ready to swear at her for not looking his way again.
Just then, his eyebrow rose in curiosity as he saw her spectacled friend, the Harry bloody Potter, point at him.
Draco's attention transferred to him.
Why, the poor four-eyed boy was glaring at him.
Returning the favor, Draco glowered at him back.
Then, the moving of familiar brown hair distracted him from a glaring match from the dense boy. His gaze instinctively moved towards her direction.
She was looking at him.
His cold look vanished and he looked at her with an amused expression. His lips curled into a smirk.
She was looking at him with a frustrated, annoyed and wildly curious look in her eyes.
He felt something weird happen inside him. Something like...
... flapping.
Or flopping. Like a freshly caught trout on a sun-fried sidewalk.
He looked at her back, in interest. He raised his eyebrow at her, crossing his arms on his chest.
He watched her expression, as her eyes narrowed into little slits and her lips pressed into a firm line.
He felt a very, very, very disgusting and sinful thought dart through his mind.
Hey, the Mudblood looks sort of good when she does that. Like a frustrated sex kitten. No doubt the sexiest thing I've seen in days in this musty school.
Draco's amusing smirk vanished as that ran through his mind and he tried to shake it away.
How disturbing. He should have scooped out his brains from his ears with a little sharp stick like how the Egyptians did, back in the past.
He was looking at her, expressionless.
How utterly, utterly, utterly, disturbing.
Though what was more disturbing that it really wasn't all that disturbing or disgusting.
That irked him even more.
But he sat there. Like a wooden plank. Like an object. Like a... thing.
And they just looked at each other.
Well, she glared. He stared.
Her little excuses for friends started to poke her, trying to get her to look away.
He smirked.
A staring contest. How repulsively immature and juvenile.
He didn't look away.
"Mudblood," he mouthed to her, his eyes twinkling with amusement as her eyebrows furrowed in irritation and annoyance.
She glared at him harder.
Draco had to admit, he was impressed. He had never seen her look so mean and unpleasant.
From the way she glared at him so hard, he knew she had to be getting tired.
Merlin knows, she couldn't hate him that much to glower at him so hard for so long.
Even he, though he would never confirm such a thing in public, would not do that. It was stupid and it was infantile.
Not for as long as she was, anyway. He looked at her quizzically.
This had been going on for minutes. She did not show a sign of any tiredness of glaring at him.
His smirk faded.
Merlin, did she really hate him that much?
He frowned at her. What a hard kick in the nutters.
And he was just beginning to like her so much.
She was still going. Glaring. Like he was the foulest, most evil and despicable thing in the world. He was sure that in some people's little mental dictionary, that would be the definition of him, but he was just clearly misunderstood.
Like Mudblood Granger, for example. He was undoubtedly certain that she was also, like him, misunderstood.
She studied hard and practically lives in the Library. She was a know-it- all and she was a big pain in the arse when she wanted to be. Or sometimes, with her without even knowing so or wanting to be.
She was dirty. Of dirty blood. A Mudblood, in simpler terms.
But that did not mean she was not clever or smart, or worthy. That did not mean that she was pathetic or lowly. Or stupid and half-witted.
Like, for example, the two blubbering idiots sitting beside him.
Example A: Gregory Goyle. Example B: Vincent Crabbe.
The dominant species of idiot. They thought with their stomachs. And that was it. Their brains were lost somewhere, unless they were born without them. Which, actually, when he thought about it, was not so impossible at all.
What pathetic friends I have, he thought.
Life was so hard for Draco Malfoy, though people deny that because he is rich and he has a daddy with connections and the skillful talent of threatening and dark magic.
Draco squinted at her, in awe but also in remarkable curiosity. She was still going.
Just then, he had an idea. He felt his smirk find its way back to his face.
What a bloody genius idea.
He didn't know if it would work, but he was just dying to know how she would react. He put a lustful look on his face.
He could already see her glare waning, looking at him questionably.
He buried his smirk, as he steadied his gaze on her. He looked at her like he longed for her... he just had to have her...
He parted his lips slightly and ran his tongue slowly across his lips.
What happened next was beyond words. Beyond sentences, beyond anything of the world. But all he could do was smile. Smile, not smirk.
A rarity for Draco Malfoy.
Her glare had been totally wiped off of her little delicate face. She looked at him, dumbfounded, her eyes wide. Her mouth was open, as she stared at him.
He felt as if Heaven had just gone down into him and started celebrating. He could hear the singing and feel the dancing and clapping. He smiled at her, his pleasure and amusement far too vast and uncontrolled to hide it under his trademark smirk.
That was when, he saw, unfortunately, her little dimwitted friends catch on. Her little raggedy-Ann doll best friend sitting across from her rose up his hand and made a very, very, very vulgar and rude hand gesture.
It was like a peace sign, as he saw Muggles do, long ago in London, except minus a finger.
It was very unpleasant.
Really. Him and Weasley?
Draco shot him a disgusted look.
Honestly. Weasley was not his type. Not even if he was drunk silly or blind.
Never, ever, in his life would he ever engage in an activity such as that with him.
He smirked, his eyebrows raised, as a picture flashed in his mind.
Now.... him and Granger... now, that, would not be so bad. Sure, she was a Mudblood... but she could easily satisfy even him.
He gave him a mischievous look, as he looked at the now confused Gryffindor girl. He let his eyes roam her body, evidently pleased with what he saw; as he could see her friends gape and glare at him from the corner of his eye.
Raggedy-Ann pointed his so called disgusting and 'perverted' ways to her, while she looked back at him and then turned away quickly when his eyes made his way up her body again.
And he could have sworn on his father's already made deathbed, that he saw her blush.
That, as Draco leaned back, his arms still crossed, made his smirk deepen into a vastly amused smile.
He kept his eyes on the trio. She did not look at him for the rest of the meal, but he was not so upset this time.
He had made her blush. That was enough to brighten his day, as odd as it seemed.
He was just utterly fascinated, or just utterly insane.
But one way or another, it had something to do with Miss Hermione Granger.
"Malfoy?" He didn't look away.
"What?" he said, absentmindedly.
"What are you doing?" Goyle asked, also looking at the Gryffindor table where Draco's gaze was directed.
Draco snapped out of his little amused and fascinated state, as he turned to Crabbe and Goyle, who were still looking at the Gryffindor table curiously. He looked at them, annoyed. He snatched his cup off the table and jabbed Goyle in the ribs with his elbow.
"Crabbe, Goyle," he snapped harshly. They turned to him.
He held out his cup for them to look inside.
"Does this look sort of odd to you?" he asked them. "Did you do something to my pumpkin juice?" They shook their heads.
"What about Pansy? Did that half-witted wanker put something in here?"
They shook their heads. He gave them one last irritated look, before he set his cup down on the table.
"Fine," he remarked. "You're both far too stupid to lie, anyway."
He sighed, as Crabbe and Goyle shrugged and continued to eat. Draco looked back at the Gryffindor table, without even meaning to, but smiled at what he saw.
She was looking at him.
It wasn't a glare. Well, it hadn't been, until he caught her, anyway.
He sighed, still smiling.
He didn't think that Mudbloods could be so amusing.
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At Potions, he was incidentally paired with the brown haired girl who had invaded his thoughts far too many times.
In other words, he was just utterly thrilled.
Though he would never confess that to the public.
He kept his usual smirk on, though now it was wider then it ever was, as she settled down beside him.
He watched her, still so absorbed and fascinated by the creature before him.
It was almost as if he had seen her in a totally different light during breakfast.
Totally accidental, but it seemed to be done on supposed purpose.
He kept his gaze on her, feeling odd and strange inside.
It was that flopping and flapping thing again. It bothered the hell out of him, but he didn't know what it was or how to make it go away.
This made him even more curious.
No one had ever made him feel this way before. His pumpkin juice had been just fine, although he hadn't had another sip all through their meal.
It was obvious and clearly evident that it was her who was sending these strange sensations through his body.
His heart felt as if it was having a seizure. He knew that that was not in any way normal.
He just continued to watch her."Granger?" he asked.
Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be muttering something under her breath. He raised an eyebrow at her.
Huh. Odd.
"Granger?" he repeated.
Finally she opened her eyes and looked at him.
Though, when she did, he felt another very, very, very strange thing happen inside.
Like his heart was trying to leap out of him.
He had never noticed how deeply brown her eyes were. It was nothing like he had ever seen. It was profound, and it was honest and wholesome.
It made him feel...
...warm inside.
"Malfoy," he heard her say.
That was when he noticed how incredibly lush and scrumptious her pink lips looked.
He felt as if his heart was melting.
Merlin... her lips looked so bloody delicious.
What was she putting on that made it look that way?
Surely they couldn't have been that way before.
He watched as she continued to talk, though her words did not get through to him.
He watched, feeling his heart stop, as she ran her tongue across her lips.
He could swear that no doubt he would have tackled her by now if he had not been in so much awe.
He was so entranced.
It was just not right.
It was just not reasonable.
Just then, he realized that she was frowning at him. He jumped slightly, as all the noise started to clang in his ears. He looked at her.
"What?" he said, wondering why she was looking at him like that.
She sighed, as she turned and opened her books.
"Malfoy," she said. "I know you think I'm not worth any of your time, but it's for the sake of our grades, and I would think you'd just listen to me for once since it's concerning—"
"Sorry, Granger," he said dryly. "I just got distracted." She looked at him from the corner of her eye, curious.
"Distracted? By what? Did Pansy just bend over while I was speaking?"
Draco snorted.
"Granger, really," he scoffed. "I'd gouge my eyes out with a fork if I ever even thought of doing something like that."
Hermione rolled her eyes, as she began to turn to the assigned page.
"Besides," he added, looking disgustedly at Pansy. "She's got nothing there."
Hermione let out a small laugh, and he couldn't help but smile himself.
He had never listened or cared about the way anyone laughed before, but somehow, her laughter made him feel... so odd it was starting to frighten him.
He looked at her, a pleasant look on his face, watching her as she started to write down their ingredients on a piece of parchment.
It was definitely something he would have beat himself up for thinking for, or even considering.
And he would have just shoved it away and swore for letting her get to him.
But he couldn't help but think it.
As he watched her... He didn't know what it was, but there was just something about her.
She seemed to glow, to radiate.
Sort of like the spring thaw after winter.
She brought a certain warmth to course through him.
It was something he had never felt before.
And it felt... nice. Pleasant.
And he couldn't help but think over and over in his mind how pretty she looked whenever she laughed.
It almost made him wish he could make her laugh a bit more, so he could feel that same pounding feeling whenever he saw her look happy, at least for a moment.
Draco finally turned away.
He swore to himself he would never drink that pumpkin juice ever again.