The week passed by slowly and uneventfully.
Harry was doing better in potions, thanks to the book she's got from Slughorn, and since she was sharing the knowledge, the entire Gryffindor side of the class were outshining the Slytherins, much to the Slytherins' dismay.
"Harry," Hermione began yet again one evening they were in the Gryffindor common room, "You can't keep the book."
Ron gave him an affronted glare – she wasn't exactly a quick dab at Potions, and her Potions grade was improving so much thanks to the book. "Hermione, give it a rest."
"Gin trusted Voldemort's diary, Harry," Hermione reminded her, ignoring Ron. "That was a mistake, remember? No matter how nice it seemed." He gave his knitting a particularly vicious stab with his needle, causing a large hole to open up further down the scarf he was making.
"Hardly the same thing," Ron muttered, although casting a decidedly dubious glance at the book, which was resting on the table.
"It's not going to bite you, Ron," Harry said impatiently.
"You don't know that," Hermione pointed out.
Harry rolled her eyes and laid down across the sofa, shutting her eyes. "I need a brief break from your crazy."
"You need to do your homework," Hermione pointed out. "Even Ron's doing hers."
Harry turned her head in shock to see a piece of paper in front of Ron with her loopy hurried writing covering three fifths of it.
"Hermione asked me to," Ron mumbled, her face tinged red. Harry peered at her curiously; she had always expected Ron had a bit of a thing for Hermione (along with every other girl in their year, except for her it seemed) but she had expected it to go fairly quickly. On the contrary, Ron's feelings seemed to have intensified over time, if she was doing homework on the day after it was set. Harry wondered if Hermione knew, and then internally laughed at herself; Hermione may be clever and hot, but unfortunately emotions were not one of his strong points.
Well, unfortunately for Ron. Or maybe it was a good thing. Ron would probably be crushed if she received an outright refusal, and if they dated and then broke up, being friends with both of them would be hell on earth.
Harry resolved to find Ron a boyfriend ASAP.
"It's pig!" Ron yelled as a small, fluttery owl began banging itself against the window frantically. "Hang on – Pig – no stop that it's glass!"
Having brought a slightly concussed Pig back to their corner and sat him on her lap, she read her letter, while Hermione resumed her knitting and Harry thought, for the lack of better things to do.
The last week had been painfully dull. Lessons at NEWT level were no less boring than they were at OWL, and nothing had happened. Hermione and Ron seemed to enjoy the peace, but Harry hated it; the general monotony of classes, food, and sleep made her feel irritated out of her wits. She and Draco had had a few study sessions, but Harry hated them too; being cold faced by the other girl made her want to fight her, and, of course, she couldn't without serious consequences. She realised just how much she had come to depend on their fights to blow off steam – Harry found herself snapping and just generally being moody, which Ron and Hermione bore relatively well.
"Blimey," Ron exclaimed, "Charlie's met someone!"
"Really?" Asked Hermione, putting down his netting. "What is it, another dragon?"
"No," Ron said, seemingly ignoring Hermione's dig and looking back to the letter. "A guy called Mark. He works in the nearby village."
"Charlie's gay?" Hermione asked, shocked. "That's a bit gross..."
Ron and Harry fixed her with not-so-subtle glares.
"Only because I'm heterosexual," he added hastily. "I'm all for equality and shit. But guys doing it together... That literally is equality and shit..."
Harry wrinkled her nose. "I didn't even think of that! Why did you make my brain conjure up that image?"
"Maybe the issue is that his mind goes straight to sex," Ron said in a deadpan voice, "Excusing the pun..." She looked at Harry. "Straight girls are meant to think it's hot, anyway.
"Not this again," Harry groaned, putting her face in her hands. "Just because I don't have the libido of an overactive rabbit does not mean I am a lesbian."
"No, that would make you asexual," Hermione interjected.
Harry fixed him with a glare and he withdrew back into his knitting.
"I'm only sixteen, anyway," she pointed out to nobody in particular. "Just because I'm not a whore-"
"Hey!" Ron interrupted, sounding affronted. "We're not whores!" She looked at Hermione, shrugged, and amended, "I'm not a whore."
"This is a ridiculous argument," Dean cut in, with Seamus by her side. "Nobody is when compared to Seamus, after all. That's really the benchmark we should be going off."
Hermione looked troubled. "Really?" He began counting on his fingers.
"I hear someone has the hots for you, Harry," Dean told her, ignoring Hermione. "Padma in Ravenclaw. You interested?"
"Parvati's twin?" Harry asked. She thought for a minute. "Nah. Not really. I don't want to get a boyfriend just for the sake of getting a boyfriend."
"Very good, Harry," Hermione approved, "You'll have more time to focus on school."
"Hermione," Harry said, shaking her head, "You literally change opinions every few minutes. Last week you were telling me I should get laid."
Seamus laughed, and Harry heard the phrase "conflicting interests" before Hermione punched her in the ribs.
"Ow!"
"We'd best get going for dinner," Ron announced, clambering to her feet. The others begrudgingly got to their feet as well, in varying degrees of eagerness; Seamus, who ate like a horse, was always hungry, but Dean needed some convincing.
Throughout the school, the corridors were clogged with students going to dinner – they should have got there early, Harry thought ruefully. She sighed and entered the mass of the student body, when suddenly, there was a bang and everything went black.
"Harry!" Hermione yelled across the general din, but as she went to reply, a hand slapped across her mouth and another arm twisted around her waist and pulled her into a cupboard. In the pandemonium, nobody noticed her go. A hand roughly grabbed her wand out of her pocket and Harry span around to see Draco Malfoy pointing her wand in her face.
She had a wild, crazy look in her eye. Her hair was as well done up as ever, perfectly curled and bleach blonde. Her face was made up, as usual, and her robes were perfect, but she had a general air of disorganisation and unruliness.
"You," She said, her voice dripping with venom.
Confused, Harry tried to think of what she had done to provoke this reaction, apart from just generally existing.
"I hate you."
"Same here…" Harry said warily.
"Shhhh," Draco crooned, putting a finger to her lips. She looked utterly mad. "I really hate you, Potter. Did you know I have a boyfriend? Older year. Ravenclaw. Does all my homework for me. My task is going brilliant. Father is so pleased with me. But I don't want a fucking hot boyfriend and eternal glory and all of that shit. I want you. Even though your hair is a fucking mess and you're a stuck-up cunt. I want to make you mine. I want everyone to know that the golden girl wants me. I don't even fucking know what I want."
Harry was a tad shocked to hear this news, but felt a certain thrill run through her body at the words – Draco Malfoy. Wanted her. Harry was, after all, far less hot, and rather less talented, in all honesty. Draco was at the top of the food chain – and she wanted Harry.
She knew she was the chosen one, but for some reason, being chosen by Draco Malfoy meant more to her than being chosen by fate, or the universe, or whatever.
Because Draco was hot as fuck.
Harry remembered when she had told Ron she wasn't a lesbian, and filed it under 'things to reconsider at some point'.
"I want you," Draco repeated, and she stepped forwards, and then the space between them was nothing. Their lips met in a bruising kiss, and Draco made a small noise in the bottom of her throat and her restraint seemed to snap; one of her hands tangled itself in her hair, and another ran down her back. Harry pulled on Draco's curls, and cupped her face with one hand. Harry did not know what the hell she was doing – she had never even thought of this as a possibility before – but for some reason, It seemed to make sense. Draco's lips were velvety and smooth, and her hair was nice to pull, and when she did Draco made this little noise of contentment that caused a physical feeling in her stomach like someone had just punched her.
Harry's hands felt the gentle curve of Draco's back, and her chest pressed hard against her. She shoved a leg between the other girl's legs and was rewarded with a breathy moan. Harry felt a hard throbbing between her legs and she slid her hands up Draco's robes, revelling in the smooth touch of her skin. She broke the kiss to bite the creamy skin on Draco's neck, and Draco, evidently a fan of being rather audible, continued to make noises that a porn star would be proud of.
From the outside, they heard a shout of "There's someone in the broom cupboard!" and startled, they broke apart, big purple bruises blossoming on Draco's neck already.
"Shit," Draco breathed. "Fuck. Potter, we didn't do anything."
Harry only nodded dumbly as the door opened in front of them.
