A/N: Sorry for taking a while xD I was really busy with worrying over my grades for this sem...sorry to keep you guys waiting! And THAAAANK you for your reviews! They make me really happy. ^_^
Chapter 3:: Where are my flowers?
Yes, you may be wondering how Draco Malfoy knew of Harry's less-than-average Arithmancy skills. And his timetable. But you must also remember that he is Draco Malfoy. Isn't the last name more than a dead give away?
...Right.
In all actuality, Draco had nicked Harry's timetable from Dumbledore's office, whilst the old coot was cooing at Fawkes to eat a lemon drop from his hand. Now that had been somewhat freaky. One of the greatest wizards of modern wizarding times had had his palm outstretched, with a small, yellow ball of sugar in the middle of it, while trying to offer said sweet to his familiar.
Mind you, most phoenixes didn't eat lemon drops and for the sake of all things wizardly, never thought of eating one. So what Draco saw was a total shock, when instead of eating the lemon drop, Fawkes had trilled and bit Dumbledore square on the nose.
"Lemon balls!" Dumbledore had swore, and Draco took that as a substitute for Merlin's balls, which was just as naughty.
He rushed away as soon as his wits caught up to him and hadn't bothered to listen to the rest of the Headmaster's cursing.
"Malfoy?" Harry looked confused. "What are you doing here?"
To lick you from the bottom up and possibly maybe rape you, Draco's mind spoke, but aloud he said, "To give you this." He pocketed his wand, then shyly gave the boquet of gardenias and white heathers to the crush of his lifetime.
Okay, so it was a bit cheesy, but what was he supposed to do? After he had propositioned Justin Finch-Fletchley, the dumb Huffledork had basically shook his hand over and over again, then proceeded to chatter his ear off about how he was going to woo the Weaselette. In the end, the idio--Justin, had handed Draco the flowers, and told him to give it to Ginny. Though wasn't it Justin's job to give it?
Admittedly, Draco, for all of his Purebloodedness, would never ever be so low as to hand the disgusting Weaselette flowers. Never in a million years. So he decided to do a smarter thing and give them to Harry.
Errr.
Was there a flaw in his thinking?
Harry seemed shock, as he held the boquet in his arms. His iridescent eyes darted from him, to the flowers, then back again. Finally, he spoke in a dazed manner,
"Err. Malfoy, what's this for?"
Ahem.
What does it look like-?
Draco instead, cleared his throat. Damn his sinuses for acting up.
"It's nothing. Just read the card and you'll understand." Was it him or did his voice sound a little high?
"Oh. Okay. Uhm...Thank you?" This seemed to perplex Harry, and Draco just stood there, palms sweating and everything too bright and--what the hell?
"You're welcome, Potter."
With that, Draco turned on his heel and fled, all the while thinking, shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit!
He had actually been polite to Harry.
Stunned, Harry just gazed at the back of Draco's fleeing form before looking at the boquet of flowers in his arms. It was an enormous case of flowers, just big enough for someone to not get toppled over with while carrying for it, and not the usual kind Harry had seen. Hell, even the flowers were bigger than normal. What were the wizarding gardeners feeding the flowers? Flower chow?
He tentatively opened the card, his eyebrows rising in disbelief as he perused the contents:
Hello,
There are so many words to say, and I can't tell them enough for them to mean the same for you. So just take these flowers as a token of affection, for they mean everything to me.
Yours truly,
S E C R E T A D M I R E R
Harry had the strangest feeling that these weren't for him, but who else could they be?
Scratching his head, he carefully held the boquet in his arms and trudged to the Gryffindor Tower, thankful that not many people were out and about, seeing as though it was class time.
What confused Harry was why Malfoy?
Why did Malfoy even bother?
Was it him? Did he do this? And why would he--
Harry promptly fell flat on his face.
"Oww!" he moaned and held his smarting nose, annoyed at the fact that he was so distracted that he tripped and fell flat on his face. Talk about an ungraceful mess.
But first thing was first! He thought bravely, and staggered the rest of the way to the Common Room. He said the password ('Coraggio') to the Fat Lady and managed to actually make it to his room in relative ease. If it weren't for his stubbed toe and aching nose, that was.
He'd have to figure out the meaning of these flowers. Even if he had to ask every girl in Gryffindor.
Harry resisted the urge to do an epic facepalm.
"These small white ones--they could be lillies?" said Ginny, running her hands over Harry's own. Harry tried not to slap them away.
"I don't know, but it seems unlikely," he bit out, slightly frustrated. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out, was his current mantra. He didn't know what to do when this kinda situation was presented to him. Girls plus him didn't mix. And at this current proximity? Not good.
"No, no!" Hermione protested, picking the beautiful flower up and examining them, unknowingly pressing her reallyisthatdevelopingchest? to his front. Harry flushed to the roots of his hair, but tried not to think about anything. "I think they're Blackberries?"
That's right Harry. Breathe in and HOLYSHITTHEYWERENTDEVELOPINGAFTERALL out.
"Noooo! That's food, Hermione!" said another girl, Lavender, all pretty in her makeup and hair. She gave a particular nice smile to Harry and he really wanted to gag. Now. She then said, "I think these are Heathers, because they look like the ones my ex-boyfriend sent me."
Harry, out of sheer desperation, had a feeling that Lavender was right (what, with her flowery name and all) and just agreed with her. Now all that was left were the really pretty, really blooming white ones.
Suddenly every girl that crowded around the boquet in his arms, stayed eerily silent for a few moments. Then Hermione spoke up, saying, "I believe these are Gardenias. I've seen a picture of them in a book."
And that was all he really wanted and needed to know.
With that, Harry thanked them for their help and scampered away, grateful that it only took him a few minutes to talk to those suffocating females.
But now...
Harry smirked.
Now that he had identified them, all he needed to do was to find their meaning...
"They're sorta off-white now."
"The stasis spell is wearing off then," Sprout said, checking an essay.
"They're...for girls."
"I'm quite aware of that, yes," she answered, eyebrows furrowing at the essay in front of her. Why would anyone want to put a Mandrake under a bed? [1]
She gave this Ann-Love half marks and went to another one.
Regardless, Harry talked on:
"And...you know, Professor, like you told me before, do these Heathers actually mean 'Wishes Will Come True?'" he asked his busy Professor, who was distractedly drawing red all over each essay repeatedly. She clucked her tongue a little in acquiescence, then nodded.
Harry, a little dubious of the meaning, stared at the overgrown flowers, his lips pursed.
"Why would anyone want to say that?"
"I don't know, all right?!" Sprout threw her hands up in frustration. More at Harry than at her failing students. It was a pity most of them were garden-retarded. "Mister Potter," she reared up to her full height, then regarded him balefully. "If you would be so kind as to leave so I can get some work done, it would mean the world to me. Really."
Harry took that as his cue to go. But before he closed the door, he cheekily asked,
"Are you really sure Gardenias mean 'your lovely, secret love'? I don't see why he would keep himself a secret if he was really so lovely. Isn't that right, Professor?"
Annoyed, Sprout threw a heavy packet of seeds at Harry's retreating head. Cleaning be damned.
Dinner found Harry scribbling down everything he knew. From the meaning to the flowers, the colour, the way Draco's face lit up when he actually accepted the boquet, to the little wrinkle forming on Draco's pale forehead as Harry answered him--
Wait. Wait. Harry was so not thinking of Draco.
He stared down at his list, surprised that half of it consisted of Draco Malfoy's name, with hearts substituting as the o's.
Merlin, what was wrong with him?
Scowling, Harry was determined to figure out if Draco was just screwing around with his brain. Or his penis. Who really knew?
He sideglanced at the Slytherin table then at Ginny.
And maybe along the way, he could find out some things too.
[1] : from the movie, Pan's Labyrinth. A must see movie if you hadn't watched it yet. :3
A/N: I'm not too comfortable writing out sex scenes just yet, but I'm getting around to it. Expect a scene or two sometime in the future. ;D
NAO REVIEEWWWZZZ!