A/N: New chapter!
Thanks everyone who put this on story alert/favorited, and thanks again to GMM for pointing out my timeline issues, all resolved now.
Warning: this chapter contains some mindless self indulgence. (Not the reasonably good metal band, the actual stuff) I'm sorry. I like writing sexy descriptions of people.
It also contains the use of mime. Utilised very sexily by Blaise Zabini. Just so you know.
Disclaimer: Still no.
It had to be said, with Lord Moldy out of the way life was significantly less painful and involved a lot less genocide and definately seemed to reduce the chances of his father dying prematurely, of natural causes or otherwise.
Despite being slightly pissed off at the realisation that his parents wanted him to retake his final year, Draco Malfoy was discovering that he was actually quite excited to be returning to Hogwarts. It beat hiding in the library where the books whispered insults at you to avoid lectures about business from his father, anyway.
While relieved it was no longer strained speeches about how all muggle-borns were evil conniving lying cheating stealing bastards with contaminated blood, Business, Draco had discovered, was the Most Horrifically Boring of All Subjects. Possibly in the universe.
He strode along platform 9 3/4 next to his mother, his father walking at a leisurely pace slightly behind them. He held the gold cage containing his owl, Hebe, in his right hand, and his mother's be-gloved hand in his left. His father levitated Draco's heavy trunk along behind them. He stopped to kiss his mother and shake hands with him father, before levitating his trunk onto the rack above the seats and putting Hebe on the floor. He leant out of the compartment window, flagging down Blaise and bestowing a final goodbye on his parents.
Or, well, he would have done. This sequence of events was cut short somewhere between 'flag Blaise down' and 'bestow final farewell on parents', so he was left hanging out of the carriage with one hand hanging limply in the air and his mouth slightly ajar. This, however, did not phase Draco, as he had recently learnt the meaning of life.
(Not really, but, well, you know, boys will be boys)
What in Merlin's name was it? There were three of them, and had Draco not known that all Veelas were blonde he would have had definite suspicions. One was brunette. She was slightly taller than her friends and had very long, glossy hair that hung in spirals down her back. She had slightly tan skin that hinted she had been away during the holidays. She was skinny – almost straight up and down, which wasn't really Draco's style but hey, who was picky? She had wide brown eyes that made her look like a deer caught in headlights and a small mouth. Her limbs were thin and fashionably angular.
The second girl was blonde. She was slightly shorter than the other two with a willowy frame but surprising large breasts. Her hair was cropped to shoulder length in Debbie Harry-esque clouds of blonde. Her eyes were enormous and a dreamy blue-grey. Her mouth was bow-shaped and dark red, and her limbs were long and supple-looking.
But that was all gleaned with a proportionally smaller piece of Draco's brain. The majority of his thoughts were occupied with the redhead.
She was in the middle of her friends, height-wise. She had heavy, wildly curly red hair which was layered all the way down to the small of her back, and caramel-coloured eyes framed with thick lashes. Her mouth was large, with plump lips; pale skin that he was certain would gain a few freckles come summer time, and beautiful, beautiful curves, showcased wonderfully in those high-waisted shorts. Her limbs were Quidditch-toned and slender.
They stood in a loose group, chatting between themselves but also looking around, as if they were waiting for someone. Draco, being Draco, came to the natural conclusion that it was him they were waiting for, and began waving energetically in their direction. Blaise, who was strolling over slowly, looked about himself in confusion.
"Draco. Draco, I'm right here."
Draco looked down at his best friend, snorted imperiously and said "I wasn't waving at you. I'm waving at them."
Saying the words seemed to make what he was doing clearer to himself and he immediately dropped his hand, ruffling his hair on the way back down.
He inwardly gave himself a gold star for smoothness.
While continuing to stare at the girls.
Blaise had cocked his head to one side and was gazing at Draco in a way that suggested the blond was some kind of experiment on human nature. Then, apparently deciding that there was nothing that could be done, hopped into the carriage, pushed Draco into his seat - "Sit down you nonce." - and then sat down opposite.
"Who are they?" Draco began at once.
"Well, that's reasonably obvious."
"Huh? Wait, Blaise," a terrible though struck Draco, "You haven't bonked them have you?"
"What? No! I'm only really into blondes. Remember Seamus?" Draco repressed a shudder. "Anyway the red hair should've given it away. And I know you don't like Granger much but even you can't be that oblivious. Dunno 'bout Blondie though, I'll have to have a chat with her."
Blaise, unaware that Draco had had an anuerism about the time he had said 'red hair', grinned in anticipation of his conversation with Blondie, calmly unfolded a copy on the Prophet and ripped open a liquorice wand.
"She's... Weasley? She's a Weasley? That's the Weaslette?"
If Blaise had glasses he would have peered reproachfully over them. As it was he had to employ the use of mime, and only narrowly avoided looking like an elderly mole due to a lucky combination of genetics and his own general hotness.
"Draco. Come on."
As Blaise turned back to his paper in disgust as his friend's blatent sexism, the very girls they had just been discussing peered in. The chattering and giggling stopped instantly, and the girls went quiet too. (hahahahaha.)
"Oh we thought this one was free never mind come on." The Weaslette said, very fast and all in one breath.
Just as they turned away, Draco, despite Blaise's very obviously miming of OMGSHUTUP, couldn't resist a jibe.
"All right, Weaslette? Granger? Looks like you managed to.. scrub up well - quite well.. this year."
All right, so it was a bad jibe.
Hermione turned around, naturally wide eyes even wider with laughter, "Christ, Malfoy, was that a compliment?"
"Er.." Draco turned to Blaise desperately, but he shrugged as if to say 'You've well and truly made a tit of yourself now, haven't you? Well, I'm not helping you.'
"Er, no. And... and don't get used to it. Not you or your blonde friend."
Draco mentally removed the gold star.
Ginny turned to Malfoy in amazement, "You don't know who this is? Oh, brilliant, that's hilarious."
And they went.
Blaise looked at Malfoy over his newspaper, happy now that he could peer reproachfully over something. "Well Draco, are you happy now?"
"Not necessarily."
"No? Not happy because you just made an enormous prat out of yourself in front of some of the fittest girls we know?"
"Bugger off."
"Well, what have you learned from this?"
"Always listen to you/pay attention to your miming?"
"No Draco, just don't speak. Ever."
Ginny, Luna and Hermione managed to grab one of the first coaches outside the station, and bundled inside. As they trundled up towards the castle Luna piped up,
"I have noticed that Malfoy is considerably less clashy this year."
Ginny looked up.
"Huh?"
"His texture," Luna continued patiently, "He used to be a bit confusing, angle-wise. Pointy features + smoothy-smooth hair = texture overload. I see he had managed to counter this by making his hair more pointy, thus making himself look distinctly less like an elf, and more like a reasonably attractive human."
Hermione giggled, which then turned into a full blown laugh as she pictured Malfoy as he was this morning compared to in previous years. "You're right. He has grown, texture-wise."
Ginny, however, looked stricken. "Reasonably attractive? Come on, Malfoy's not attractive. He's a squirmy, shiny ferret-man with unnaturally blonde hair."
"Well, if that's how you choose to see it."
"It's not what I choose, it's what is there! Malfoy is clearly a ferrety smarmy git with extremely shiny hair."
"Well, I see a tall, blonde, slightly nordic-looking bloke, with very alluring eyes." Hermione folded her hands in her lap. Luna nodded her agreement.
"I disagree."
"And he has a very nice body." Luna concluded.
The feast was as usual, Professor McGonagall gave a rousing speech, commending those who had fought in the war (at this point she turned slightly away from the Slytherin table. Can't think why.), and bidding younger students to learn from the mistakes of their generation. By this time, of course, Ron and Harry had joined the girls and much more pressing matters than the war were on the boys' minds.
Skirts.
"Gin, for Christ's sake. I can see your bare legs through the gap in your robes. What are you wearing under there?"
"Shorts." Ginny answered nonchalantly, stuffing chips into her mouth.
"Shorts? Shorts?" Ron hissed,
"Yes Ronald. They're these things, people wear them. They're like trousers only shorter."
"I know what shorts are Ginny, but why are you wearing them?"
"Because, Ronald, I'm a girl. That sort of thing happens when you're a girl. Just like wearing skirts, make-up, getting breasts- Oh, Harry, you should probably whack on the back. I think he's going to die."
Ron did indeed look a bit purple. As he managed to get his breath back he turned to Hermione.
"And you. You never normally wear your skirt this short. I can see all the way up your l-" he stopped at the glare on Hermione's face.
"Oh, sorry Ron. Have we reminded you that we're not actually male?"
Ron pondered that for a moment, and then changed tack. "But look what you've done to poor Luna, look! It's wrong to do that to a girl that young."
Ginny puffed up with rage, "Luna's the same age as me, Ron, and we're both seventeen - both of age!"
"Oh." Ron's looked as though he hadn't actually realised that his sister was of age until that moment, nor that Luna was too.
"Luna looks great. And she doesn't look like she's complaining, does she?" Hermione added.
Luna was indeed being eyed with interest by several boys at this precise moment, one of them - to their surprise - being Blaise Zabini.
"Oh, you tell them Harry, there's no getting through to these people."
"Actually, they are of age...I don't think there's anything-"
"And," Ron turned suddenly, pointing his fork at them. "I don't remember you asking mum's permission to do all this!"
He looked triumphant, and bit down on a potato in a self-congratulatory way.
"Ron. Come on, be serious. You don't actually think Mrs. Weasley is upset that her only daughter is looks more feminine, do you? She's been horrifically excited all holiday, you would know that if you'd been there."
Ron looked mildly guilty. On Boxing day Harry, Ron and Hermione were whisked away by the Ministry for publicity, official briefings on the events of the final battle, award ceremonies and other such things. Hermione was able to return home by New years eve, but Harry and Ron stayed on, basically spending their holiday draining Ministry corporate accounts. They popped home only once, for New years, and then buggered off again.
As Ron was burying his face in his plate and looked unlikely to surface for some time, Hermione and Ginny decided to leave, and collected Luna on their way to the dormitories.
Draco and Blaise watched them go. (Along with half of the male population of Hogwarts, but that's irrelevent.)
Draco turned to Blaise and said, "I suppose they'll be going to their dormitory now."
"I suppose."
"Do you think they'll take Blondie too?"
"I don't know, looks like she's a Ravenclaw."
"I hope they do." He paused. "What do you think they do in their dormitory?"
"That's the beauty of it, Draco. We don't know. We just don't know."