Author's Note: Hi everyone! Here is Chapter 4! It is a tad bit shorter than the last few, but still worth it. Please enjoy!
4.
A wise woman wishes to be no one's enemy; a wise woman refuses to be anyone's victim.
Draco stood in the middle of the Great Hall, which had transformed into a wonderland of wintery elegance the night before the Christmas holidays began. He was still in the crowd while the band on stage played one of their most popular songs, something with an upbeat tune that was a favorite among the girls in the room, all of them squealing and making noises so high-pitched that he wondered if even a dog's ears could even hear them. He winced as a small, red-haired Hufflepuff girl pushed her way through the sea of people and let out a wail right next to his head as one of the band members flipped his guitar behind his back and played a quite impressive solo. Or at least it would have been impressive if he could have heard it, if his ear had not practically started bleeding from going deaf from that daft imp of a girl that now stood beside him. He shoved his way toward the back of the crowd, intent on getting some punch (wishing for something stronger), then hoping to leave the entire scene without being spotted. He nearly made it out of the crowd when he felt a tickle as a fingernail gently grazed the nape of his neck ever so slightly. Chills shot through his body and his hairs stood up on end. His hand shot up to the spot to rub the tickle away, but the fingernail continued to brush him, and grabbed his fingers in a smooth grip. He turned around and saw a tall, slender blonde in a long silvery metallic dress that clung to her figure as it draped over her bony shoulders. Daphne Greengrass put her hand on Draco's shoulder as she gripped his hand tighter.
"Let's dance, Draco," she said softly as she moved her body closer to his. He could feel her breath on his skin, and his hair stood up once more. He made a move to pull away.
"I was just getting punch," he said flatly, wiggling his shoulder out from underneath her hand. He began to turn around when she pulled him toward her again. Daphne was usually gentle, but tonight she was being uncharacteristically aggressive.
"I asked for a dance, Draco." At this, Draco scoffed at her, hoping she'd get the hint easily.
"And of course, Daphne gets everything she asks for, naturally." She rolled her eyes at him, still not letting him go, despite his resistance.
"I would disagree with you," she began, "but like you said, naturally, I always do." She said this last part dangerously close to his ear, her lips brushing his earlobe gently. Draco felt his face get hot as he ripped away from her. He turned around to walk away, but then was blinded by something wet, cold and sticky thrown in his face. Pansy Parkinson stood in front of him with a now empty glass of punch in her hand. She hiccupped and then started pounding Draco on the chest in anger.
"You are supposed to be my date!" She said, her words just barely slurred, the smell of fire whisky faintly on her breath. Draco looked at the small bag that dangled from her arm and noticed the neck of a small flask sticking out. He managed to grab her wrists, ceasing her flailing arms from hitting him, when she turned her attention to Daphne. "He's my date, you filthy slut! There are plenty of other blokes here for you to wave your smelly twat around!" Daphne's mouth dropped in fury.
"Excuse me?" She said, as if maybe she heard wrong over the blaring music.
"I said," Pansy yelled through another hiccup, "you've got a smelly twat, you rotten—" She was cut off by a brisk slap in the face. Pansy stood there, slightly wobbly, and stunned.
"I will not be insulted by a pug-face like you, Parkinson," Daphne said as she brushed a hand down her dress. "You miserable, drunken mess. Come on, Draco." She laced her arm around Draco as Pansy let out an angry wail and stormed off. Draco wriggled free of Daphne's hold and walked quickly out of the Great Hall, wanting so badly to be away from those two looneys. He considered both of them to be rather classless.
He slunk around the corner when he saw a flash of pink running down the corridor past him. He saw the back of her first. Light brown hair in soft ringlets falling down her back, a dress that, now that he looked at it properly, was more of a shade of amaranth than pink, fell gently over her slender waste and picked up toward the bottom, giving her a shapely feel. Her skin was a light olive, supple and smooth looking, with light freckling on her shoulders. She reminded him of a painting. He heard a small gasp from her and recognized she was crying as she headed up a flight of stairs, her heels clicking and echoing on the walls. She looked beautiful from behind. He clung to a wall, begging her to turn around so he could see her. So he could match a face to this stunning figure he had secretly been watching. Please turn around.
"Wait!" He heard someone call from the other end of the corridor, a deep, stern voice. He wanted to turn to see who it was calling after her, but his eyes were fixed. Turn around. Heavy footsteps trudged past him as they pursued the girl. Draco could tell from the dark red, wool outfit he was wearing that he was one of the boys from Durmstrang. Could this girl be from Beauxbatons, then? "Please, wait," he said again. Draco saw the silhouette of his face. Viktor Krum.
His stomach turned. He was never one to fawn over celebrities. Being of such high status in the wizarding world had its perks, after all. Sharing boxes at sporting events with the Minister of Magic, sitting at the same table at dinner with some of the most famous witches and wizards of the age. But Viktor Krum, even if he did lose the Quidditch World Cup for Bulgaria over the summer, was definitely one of Draco's idols, though he would rarely admit it. Krum grabbed her around the waist before she got to far up the stairs. She covered her hands over her face, shielding her tears from him. "Tell me why you are crying?" Krum said in his thick accent. He removed her hands from her face slowly, but them Krum sidestepped in front of her, obstructing Draco's view of her. He was starting to get irritated. He wanted so badly to see her from the front. The girl choked out a sob, trying to manage to make a few words, but nothing came out but a wet gurgling sound. "It's not me, is it?" The girl shook her head.
"I think I just want to go to bed, Viktor," she finally managed to say. Her voice sounded so familiar. Did Draco know her? "It has just been a stressful week." Krum nodded in understanding as he bowed, kissing her palm. It was as he did this that her face was unmasked. At first, Draco could not place her. She definitely looked familiar, but he was sure he would remember such a face as hers. Smooth skin, rosy cheeks that were somewhat blotchy from crying, the gentle curve of her jaw, the defining dent of her collar bone. Krum walked away from her and another voice came from behind him, calling out her name as she fled up the staircase, one that belonged to a certain airheaded Weasley, and that was when he realized exactly who he had been admiring.
He felt vomit rise up as Potter and Weasley barreled through the door of the Potions classroom. They were so buffoonish and uncoordinated, with complete disregard to poise and composure. That's how Draco always held himself. Perfectly straight, stoic, and always composed. He rolled his eyes as they apologized to Professor Slughorn and made their way to the group as they all stood behind a table that held numerous vials of different colored concoctions. Ron stood beside Hermione. Draco watched as she her body stiffened ever so slightly. She locked her knees and gently stroked her hair, wrapping her arms even tighter around her books she held against her chest. She leaned slightly in his direction, getting as close to him as possible without actually touching, except maybe brushing his arm with a loose thread from her sweater. Draco scoffed as an uncomfortable feeling arose in his stomach. He could not place it. Was it jealousy? No. Not a chance. Not a snowball's chance in hell.
"Who would like to come up here and tell me what these potions are on this table, hmm?" Professor Slughorn sang to the group. Of course, Hermione's arm shot up. Slughorn smiled and gestured her forward. Draco imitated her eagerness with a mocking, silly look on his face, raising his hand and pretending to flip a mane of bushy hair over his shoulder.
"This one is Veritaserum," she began. "It's a truth-telling serum."
Draco lowered his voice so only his friends could hear him, but made sure he was just loud enough for Harry and Ron to hear his remarks. "That mudblood is a bloody mess, and that's the truth." His friends chortled as Ron clenched his fists, but did not turn around.
"This one is Amortentia. The strongest love potion in the world," she continued.
"There's no potion strong enough to make anyone love that hideous thing," Draco said. Ron's knuckles started turning white.
"It's rumored to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them."
"The only thing she can attract is flies." Draco laughed as one of his friends clapped him on the back.
"That's it!" Ron shouted. He turned around and punched Draco square in the jaw, knocking him back a few feet. Draco tore his wand from his robes and before Ron could even reach for his, Draco hit him with a flash of blue light that sent him hurdling across the room and smashing into a cabinet, vials of potions and jars of ingredients crashing to the ground and spilling all over the floor. Ron's head lolled to the side as the class moved out of the way. Harry then pointed his wand straight at Draco.
"Stop that this minute!" Professor Slughorn shouted. Hermione's face turned white as she saw Ron leaning against the smashed cupboard. She ran over to him and brushed his cheek. The feeling in Draco's stomach moved up into his throat as his temple throbbed. "Wands away! Both of you!" He said to both Harry and Draco as they hesitated, but eventually lowered their wands. "Thirty points from Slytherin! And twenty points from Gryffindor!"
"Thirty points? He hit me first! I was only acting in self -defense!" Draco shouted.
"You think I did not hear your remarks about Miss Granger, Malfoy?" Draco straightened up as Hermione turned her head slowly to look at him. Draco's face was like stone. "In fact, I think fifty points would be a better suited deduction for such ugly comments." Draco opened his mouth to protest but Slughorn cut him off once more. "And I think a few evenings worth of detentions would serve you well also." Hermione whipped her head back toward Ron, hiding the wetness that had sprung up into her eyes. She begged herself not to let a tear fall. Not to give Malfoy the satisfaction. She helped Ron to his feet, and without even excusing herself, she half-carried him out the door toward the hospital wing, leaving her classmates and that dreadful Draco Malfoy behind her.
Author's Note: So there you have it. Sorry it took a while. Let me tell you, it was a crazy week at work. Working in a Cardiac ICU, I see my fair share of awful things, and this week in particular was very trying. I am glad I found some time to write and just escape from the heartbreak for a while. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please remember to follow, favorite and review!