Firestorm

 Chapter One

 Plate after plate, it never ceased to amaze me just how much food could disappear down into the bottomless depths that Vincent and Greg called their stomachs. I could watch them forever, just to see whether they would stop once they had reached their limit. Greg, who seemed satisfied with the amount he had packed in for one morning, settled back in his chair, one hand placed on his large stomach, and let out a satisfied belch. Or maybe not. 

 I flinched, and turned away, trying to elude the looks of disgust and revulsion that were being headed in our direction. Why I still kept his company I didn't know. I inched my chair to my left, trying to ignore a further belch released into the world by Vincent.

 They weren't all that bad…I suppose… They were loyal, and… and they were dependent and they could be smart occasionally.

 And Snape was secretly in love with Potter.

 Now wouldn't that be interesting?

 My gaze travelled over to a place where it so often resided, on to the face of one recognised by so many, the face that didn't deserve so much recognition. Harry Potter. Who else? And next to him, one bratty redheaded Weasel, who found it her business to pry into mine. From what it looked like, she was attempting to engage him in conversation, rather unsuccessfully I might add. Still not over her schoolgirl crush. No surprise there. People like the Weasley girl liked being the tag-along; they liked being cast aside as soon as something better came along. I mean; you just had to look at her brother to see the logic. I didn't understand; I didn't want to try. It was just another number on the list of reasons as to why Weasleys were so pathetic.

 I sat back into my chair, settling my languid stare upon the youngest Weasley, waiting to see how long it would take her to notice me. Not too long, it seems, as first she swatted around her face, the presence of my gaze like a bothersome bug, and then, hesitantly, almost in fear, turning her face towards me. I watched her from under half-lidded eyelids, curving my mouth into lazy smile. I knew from experience, that smile would have more effect than a sneer and a scowl put together. 

 The Weasley girl flushed, cheeks reddening to the likeness of a ripe tomato. The frightened look on her face didn't last long. As the colour faded from her cheeks, she scowled at me, turning away determinedly, pointedly ignoring me for the rest of the meal.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 "Weasley."

 The shock of being addressed directly by me (well, that and a helpful little nudge from my wand) was enough to make her drop her books and inkbottle on to the floor in front of her feet. The bottle landed directly on top of her books, black ink pooling on and around the broken shards of glass, soaking into her parchments.

 A smile flitted across my lips, amusement and satisfaction felt in a job well done. "Maybe you should invest in an unbreakable charm, Weasley. I'm amazed someone hasn't even bothered to suggest it yet."

 The youngest Weasley didn't seem to see the humour in the situation. Pity for her, really. It's important to look on the lighter side of things once in awhile, I've learnt, otherwise you just might find yourself turning into a enraged banshee, rather like the one in front of me, who was about to hurl her book bag at my face. Luckily my quick reflexes saved me, as I managed to grab the bag just seconds before it smashed into my face, ruining my perfect nose.

 "Temper, temper Weasley. You should save that fire for somewhere else." I lowered my voice suggestively, taking one large step over the scattered books, placing me directly in front of her. A flash of fear passed across her eyes, disappearing as quickly as it came. She narrowed her eyes, anger heightening the colour on her cheeks. "You get away from me, Malfoy," she whispered fiercely, "Stay away from me."

 "Why would I want to do that?" I asked, as if it were the last possible thing I would want to do. As I stepped closer, and further invaded her personal space, she stumbled back, breath catching in her throat as she backed painfully against a wall. The wall protested in response, but neither of us took any notice. Watching her, cornered and helpless, and idea began to form in my mind. So simple. So perfect. It was brilliant, a stroke of genius, if maybe, slightly unoriginal.

 Using my advantage in height and strength, I pressed her up against the wall, tracing the line of her jaw with one finger. She shuddered, and tried to back away, but in vain. This was perfect. Like killing two Red Caps with one curse.

 "You know," I paused, searching desperately in my mind for her real name, all I'd ever heard her be called was Ginny. Oh well. "I've been thinking about you a lot." Her eyes widened, she made a move as if to slap me. She would've succeeded had I not pinned her arms down against the wall. "And every time I think of you, I want to do this…" I trailed off, dropping my head a tiny bit closer.

 She obviously knew what was coming next, because she struggled and began to scream, but the sound was cut off by my lips. Her lips were soft and warm, and so obviously inexperienced. Briefly I wondered whether it was her first. It probably was; she had probably been saving it for Potter. It gave me a nasty sort of joy to have stolen something that had been meant for him.

 She wrenched away, gasping for breath. She was blushing furiously, but whether it was because of embarrassment or anger I couldn't tell. Most probably it was the latter. Her hand flew up and gave me a good slap across the face. Yes, it was definitely the latter. I rubbed my stinging cheek and tried to look wounded. I don't think it worked.

 She scrambled out of my grip, hands trembling as she gathered up her fallen things. "What?' I asked, amused. "Didn't you like that?"

 "Go away, Malfoy." She said in a clipped sort of voice. "Leave me alone."

 "Is that what you say when someone gives you your first kiss?" I scolded, "I would hope you'd be more grateful in the future." I paused, getting no reaction. "Was it your first kiss?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

 She said nothing, stuffing her books firmly into her pack. I knew there were many spells to get rid of the spilt ink and renew the stained parchments, but I suspected she was too stubborn and too proud to perform them in front of me. "Was it?" I asked again.

 She stood up, using her wand to elevate the shards of glass and dump them in the rubbish bin down the hall. She didn't look at me, but as she walked past she said, "If you must know, yes." I felt my ego jump up and down in a gleeful victory dance. That was one I had over Weasley and Potter. But then, just before she disappeared down the stairwell, she turned back to me and said in this highly conceited tone, "and I hope my next one is a lot better than that."

 My ego came to a crashing halt.

 Stupid cow.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Arithmancy. Possibly the most boring subject on the face of this planet. Why do I do it then? I don't know. Ask me in ten years and I might be able to give you an answer then. You can tell how good a class is by looking at the number of students in it. Either that or how much of a bludge it is. In this case, it is not a bludge. It is hard. There were only eight people in our class. Eight stupid people, including me. But not intellectually, just as in stupid. Why? Because we're in this class.

 There are three Slytherins, me (of course), Blaise, and Morag. People feel sorry for me because I have my name (I don't know why…) but this girl's got the worst. Morag McDougal. How she got into Slytherin with a name like that, I don't know. You would think she'd be laughed out of the house. But she's definitely Slytherin in soul.

 Then there are three Ravenclaws; Boot, Patil (Padma that is), and Turpin. One Hufflepuff; Moon, (thank the Lord), and one Gryffindor (even more thank the Lord,) and though this Gryffindor happened to be Granger, at least she didn't bother me. Sometimes I bothered her, but it wasn't so much fun without Potty and Weasel.

 Finally it was over. The torture was over. I remained slumped in my chair, watching everyone else rush to pack up their books and scurry out of the classroom. They reminded me of bees, or ants. Mindless zombies, slaving away to do the bidding of a superior being.

 Well, maybe not. But I could see the likeness.

 I felt a presence standing by my desk, but couldn't be bothered to look up. I took a guess, most probably it was Blaise; he probably wanted a favour.

 "Draco?"

 I lifted my head up, eyeing him wearily. "What do you want?"

 "Want?" His brow crinkled in confusion. "I don't want anything." He repositioned the books he was holding so that they sat more comfortably against his arm. "I was just waiting for you."

 "Why?" I admit, I was being a bit interrogative, but Slytherins never did anything for nothing, so my reasoning told me that there had to be something he wanted.

 "Do I have to have a reason?" He asked in exasperation.

 I sat up, and looked at him. Finally I nodded. "Yes."

 "Okay, I do." He admitted. Finally. "But there's going to be people coming in, so let's go somewhere else. I'll ask you then."

 "I've got to go to the owlery."

 He nodded and I stood up, slipping my things into my bag. Was it just me, or did he look a little nervous? Oh well, I was going to find out soon anyway. We stepped out the room, and walked to the owlery. The whole way he seemed to be in a nervous, fidgety silence. I glanced around to see whether there was anyone in there. No one. Strange. I shrugged, and searched the perches for a strong looking owl. My parcel was a bit heavy. Blaise sort of followed me, silent as ever. It wasn't that unusual I suppose, he was always sort of quiet.

 "Okay, it's like this." He began, twisting his hands. "Well my parents are somewhat rich right?"

 "Somewhat, yes." I drawled, agreeing. 'Somewhat' didn't quite cover it. Blaise's family was perhaps the wealthiest I knew. Far more so than mine, or Pansy's for that matter.

 "Well you know the Baddocks? Clara Baddock? In sixth year? The one with the dark red hair and-"

 "Yes, I know." I interrupted tersely. He was babbling, and I hate hearing Slytherins babble. It's a sign of weakness.

 "Well her parents aren't that rich."

 Well that was true. Their manor was only half the size of ours, and they only had one house-elf. We had three, I thought darkly, until Potter came along and freed one. Bloody idiot.

 "So her parents decided to arrange a marriage, into our family! To me!"  Blaise wailed miserably.

 "And you want my help, why?" I really had to laugh at the look on his face. It was hilarious. But too bad for him. All that money. Not that Clara was bad looking. I grimaced, seeing that he was knotting his hands again. It really annoyed me. "Stop it." I snapped, slapping his hands apart.

 He ignored me. "Will you help me?"

 I stared at him suspiciously. "What do you want me to do?"

 "I need you to-"

 "Brilliant!" I exclaimed, cutting him off. I had just found the perfect owl, possibly the fattest one in the whole place, but strong nonetheless. "Go on," I prodded, when he didn't say anything.

 "I need you to help me get out of it." He looked at me expectantly.

 I finished tying the parcel securely to the owl's leg, smirking amusedly as it tried to fly, stumbling around at first as if it was drunk. If an owl can glare, I would swear that that owl was glaring daggers at me. Finally it seemed to right itself, and flew off rather jerkily into the evening sky.

 "Well?" Blaise prodded my ribs.

 "How?" I asked, knowing that the saying 'Where there's a will there's a way,' was something stupid Gryffindors had probably thought up. It was rarely ever true. Sometimes there was no way even with the strongest will, and more often there was a damn good way without much will at all. That was preferred.

 "I don't know. I was hoping you'd think of something." I looked him in the eye. It was true. He really had been hoping I'd think of something. It was flattering, really.

 "I can try." I paused, remembering something I'd heard of once. "You could break it off with a charm. But then…" I shook my head, "that only works if the marriage is sealed. And the charm is ridiculously complex."

 I trod through the smattering of bird-poo, careful not to get any on my very expensive shoes. "Or…" I said slowly, turning around to face Blaise, "you could disgust her family with your infidelity. That's good," I smirked, "and fun too."

 "I don't want to ruin my reputation." He objected.

 "What reputation?" By now we were out of the owlery, and I began to walk backwards.

 He scowled at me. "Don't be an idiot."

 "Alright then," I changed my suggestion, "disgust her with your infidelity."

 "I don't want-" he started, braking off to grab my robes and try to prevent me from crashing into something, or rather, someone. Too late. I smashed straight into them, and they went flying. My foot caught on a flap of their robes, and I spun on my other heel, just barely saving myself from tumbling over and making an idiot out of myself.

 Unfortunately, the other person didn't have my luck. They scrambled to their feet, brushing hair out of their eyes. Very red hair, I might add. The very person I did not want to see, and of course she had to come stumbling into my path.

 Damn.

 I can only say three things. Read, enjoy, review! Thanks guys  ~Lyra