II
Draco Malfoy was the epitome of sex. Not simply in a lustful Gilderoy Lockhart way, but in a sense that he was a manifestation of sexual desire and the darkest masturbatory fantasies. His mercury-blue eyes appeared to contain the haunted secrets to pleasure. The way his lithe form strutted into the Defense against the Dark Arts portrayed the fluid movements symptomatic of sexual prowess. Hermione was unwittingly gawking.
"Look away mudblood," Draco slowly enunciated, a smirk gracing his aristocratic face.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione snapped irritated by the fact that she was finding his paleness unearthly.
He tutted mockingly, "don't pretend your panties aren't soaked with desire, again. You want me. Unfortunately for you, I don't fuck mudbloods."
"Shut up Malfoy," Harry bit angrily. "The only ones who would ever demean themselves by finding you arousing are your Slytherin whores."
Draco elegantly cocked an eyebrow and his eyes meandered to Harry's left and he smiled coyly at Parvati. "Why don't you ask your girlfriend whether she finds me arousing," he purred. "After all what was is you said Pav, you want me to slam my massive cock into you every night? Or was it gigantic?"
Parvati looked away, her face flushed aubergine and tears brimmed her eyes. Harry looked to his chaste girlfriend and a look of horror swept over his face.
He instinctively inched away from Parvati and through gritted teeth asked, "before or after us?"
"Before, after, on your birthday, on your anniversary, Parvati gives outstanding head," the Slytherins roared with laughter at their leader's sexual proficiency. Parvati burst into tears and tried to run from the room, but Draco held her and kissed her neck. Parvati broke free and loud sobs could be heard as she ran down the corridor.
"That's enough Mr.. Malfoy contain your escapades to your bedroom," Snape said frivolously, a light smile curling his lips.
"Can I be blamed for the promiscuity of Gryffindor women like Parvati and Granger who constantly throw themselves at my Slytherin charm?" Malfoy smirked to another raucous bought of laughter and cheering from his house.
The lesson progressed haphazardly as Harry's heartbreak and anger caused him to outdo Neville in the ineptness stakes- adding the wrong ingredients to the wrong potions; writing in the wrong books; spilling ink and snapping three quills before resigning himself to stare loathingly at Malfoy.
His anger dissipated as he took in the flawlessness of the ivory skin and silkiness of the platinum blond hair. Draco turned his head lazily, his metal-blue eyes locking on Harry's. The intensity of his gaze bored into Harry and he looked away cursing and blushing.
"Why, I didn't know you swung that way Harry, but I'm sorry I'm not a fruit. Maybe Weasel could help you out, no girl will ever bed him after all," he drawled.
Ron went beet-red and Harry stayed silent, not daring to brave the mercury depths of Draco's eyes again and merely muttered, "shut up."
When the class was dismissed, Draco walked past Harry, brushing his hand against Harry's thigh. Harry tried to dismiss his arousal. I am not gay. Malfoy is not attractive. I am not gay, I like women. Lavender has a nice rack. Her boobs are big. Like Malfoy's crotch. Crap. I am straight. I am not gay. I am not gay. Harry continued to chant to himself as he walked to Charms and he tried to suppress his excitement at the fact that Malfoy would again be present. I am not gay. I am not gay. So absorbed was he in his chant that he walked straight into a girl. She turned around and Harry's breath lodged in his throat. "I am not gay," he stated stupidly and the entire class burst into laughter- Slytherins and Gryffindors. As he took his seat, Malfoy winked at him and then turned back to the beautiful girl who had everyone enrapt.
She was dazzling. Her face had the same flawless ivory quality as Malfoy and she seemed to emit a pearly glow. Her hair was a deep brown but seemed luminescent as if it was drenched in gold dust. Her lips were flushed rose petals, and her eyes- her eyes were the deepest blue, bordering on violet. They were dark and enchanting and they seemed like they held all the secrets of the underworld in them. They had an air of languid seduction. She smirked at the rapt attention she was receiving from the class and cleared her throat.
Professor Flitwick, who as a man, had also been captured by her beauty flushed. "Ah yes, this is Iris Sarquisio. She is the former French Minister for Magic's daughter. She transferred here after her father switched jobs. She does not speak English. I trust that you will make her feel welcome. Miss Sarquisio, please take a seat next to Mr. Potter, the boy with the black hair," Flitwick said pointing frantically at Harry and speaking loudly, as if Iris was an idiot.
"Merci Beaucoup," Iris whispered as she took a seat next to Harry, at whom all the boys, and some of the girls, were scowling. I am definitely not gay, Harry though happily grinning at Iris. She rolled her eyes and sneered at him, and looked around the rest of the classroom appraising each of the students in turn. In dismay, she found them all to be extremely mediocre. Then her eye caught hair of platinum blond silk and craned her head to look over the red headed oaf who was eyeing her stupidly. Standing half way out of her seat, her discomfort was forgotten as she locked eyes with Draco Malfoy. She raised an eyebrow in mock bewilderment and he smirked and winked at her, but all the while mercury-blue bore into violet-navy. They stared at each other both unwilling to back down. They might have stared forever if Ron had not stood up to copy something written at the bottom of the board. When he sat down, Malfoy could only see Iris' glowing dark brunette hair and he spent the rest of the lesson watching the sunlight dance as if captured on the surface of the hair, unable to penetrate the dark depths.
When class ended, Hermione made her way over to Iris and proceeded to introduce herself to the beautiful girl. Iris simply smirked superciliously and then laughed softly at the frenetic girl's frizzy hair. Malfoy stalked over to the two, "look Granger, leave her alone. She does not want to be tainted by your dirty blood."
As Hermione began a retort about ferrets and cages Iris rolled her eyes and delicately walked away.
"So yes, never be so presumptuous as to tell me what to do," Hermione concluded.
Draco took a step towards Hermione, igniting the same passion Hermione was overcome by last night. She closed her eyes, willing chaste thoughts to distract her from Malfoy's form.
He covered her neck with fluttered kisses and his hand gently cupped and stroked her breast, and he then breathed hotly into her ear, "don't pretend that you don't touch yourself thinking of me at night. You're disgusting." Hermione's eyes went glassy and a pained expression struck her face.
Draco then stalked out of the classroom, simpering at his domination of the mudblood. He walked into the Great Hall and took a seat next to Pansy, his eyes immediately drawn to the wraithlike figure sitting at the head of the hall on a battered old stool with the decrepit sorting hat on her stunning head. She looked nonchalant as the sorting had screamed with conviction, "Slytherin," and his house cheered rapturously at the stunning addition to their numbers.
Iris sauntered over to the Slytherin table and looked at Blaise scathingly until he got out of his seat and she gracefully sat down. Draco smirked. She glanced disdainfully at the mass of Slytherins eyeballing her.
Pansy tried to engage her in conversation, animatedly professing how beautiful she though Iris looked. Iris stared at her coldly. Pansy continued, determined to win over the beautiful girl and began a rant about hair products. She reached out and touched Iris' hair and a loud crack ensued as everyone turned to Iris, who had slapped Pansy. Pansy looked extremely frightened and quickly scurried from the hall. Iris' eyes glowed violet. Iris glared at everyone who was looking at her and they all quickly turned away. Draco however smoothly scooted over and took the seat Pansy had vacated. Iris did not say anything but sipped her pumpkin juice daintily, as though nothing had happened. He stared at her wondrously.
Draco demurely fingered her hair, which felt like liquid silk, much like his own. She looked at him and narrowed her eyes. She raised her hand and he thought that he too would be struck, but she simply ran her fingers through his hair. Her cool fingers made contact with his scalp and he shuddered involuntarily. Iris snorted and moved away from him, throwing her hair over one shoulder, out of his reach.