A/N: Sorry for the long wait, guys! I think I'm gonna pick The Golden Fingered and the Blue-Eyed up again. I've been dreaming about nothing but vampires for the past two weeks. Anyway, enjoy! (Remember, reviews make me want to write even more!)

In Love With Amaranta

Draco tapped his foot vexingly. His arms were crossed over his chest, which was puffing with each of his angry breaths. He leered at the blank girl who stared back defiantly at him.

"What do you mean you won't wear the badge?" He reiterated her words. "You're not supporting Gryffindor, are you?"

"Of course not," Amaranta responded coolly, although he had the sneaking suspicion she was lying. She never was a good liar. A lack of practice, he supposed. "But I won't support Slytherin's propoganda, either. I intend to remain a neutral party."

Draco sighed his head into his hands before he put one hand on her shoulder, as if reasoning with a child. "Look, at this school there are no neutral parties. You're either with one team or the other. And if you aren't with Slytherin then you won't be much welcomed here."

"I'm not welcome here anyway," Amaranta shrugged her shoulders casually. She planned to pretend to remain unemotional through this whole façade.

"Did you forget our little 'agreement' from earlier?" His voice became low so passersby wouldn't eavesdrop. "You do as I say and I won't tell Potter you're little secret."

Amaranta gave an irritated sigh. Her emotions were beginning to leak. "What do I have to do to get you to stop this?"

"I only want you to remain by my side forever," he replied, his anger replaced with a suave look, although he only spoke those words audibly enough for Amaranta and him to hear them. If anyone knew this girl was his weakness he'd be done for.

"That sounds like a marriage proposal," her face wasn't as responsive as he had hoped.

"If that's what it takes."

"Unfortunately, I have no say in that matter. You'd have to take it up with my master."

The color instantly faded from his face, and he shivered, although sweat trickled down his forehead. He had nightmares about such things. ". . .I'll see if my father can. . .put in a good word for me. . ."

He streaked off, realizing only seconds later that he had forgotten to force her to wear the badge. Oh well, if she didn't want to wear some badge, he'd let her get away with it. As long as she didn't cheer for the Gryffindors, she'd survive the Slytherins' wrath.

Malfoy sleeked back his bleach blonde hair that reflected the dazzling sunlight to the point of blinding Crabbe and Goyle. The roar of the crowd didn't bother him as he stood in the large field of the stadium, waiting for the Gryffindor team to make their way. He was too busy searching for Amaranta in the sea of specks. He didn't have to search for too long, however, for it was easy to spot the single green speck seperated from the rest. He was sure she hadn't seperated herself willingly.

He heard a loud cheer and turned to see the Gryffindor Quidditch team make their way out into the field. Once Potter spotted him, he pointed to one of the silver badges shaped like a crown with the bold print: Weasley Is Our King, which went harmoniously with the lyrics to his new song, which the Slytherin team was now beginning to conjure up.

Madam Hooch ushered the captains to shake hands, and after a few minutes of glaring, they stepped back and mounted their brooms. The grey-haired witch waited a few seconds before she blew her whistle and the children shot up into the air in a flurry of gold and green robes.

It had only been about a minute and the Slytherins had already scored a goal. Weasley really was a terrible Keeper. If he continued to clusmily float about, this game would already be decided. But Malfoy had no time to laugh at Weasley's foolishness. He had to find the Snitch before that awful Potter boy did.

However, Fate had other plans. As soon as he had caught sight of the Snitch, Harry Potter had reached his hand out to grasp it in his gloved fingers, even if he was met with a Bludger at the same time. He heard Madam Hooch's piercing whistle, and hovered above the ground, to watch the results of the game. He gritted his teeth when Madam Hooch announced the Gryffindor's win. He landed beside Harry, a snort escaping his nostrils.

He had to act composed. He couldn't let him see how pissed he was. "Saved Weasley's neck, have you?" He sneered, not bothering to hold back his extreme disgust. "He's positively the worst Keeper I've seen in my entire life. Well, I do suppose he was born in a bin. Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

Harry ignored him, returning to his team where he received a series of congratulations and whoots. Seeing that he wasn't reaching the desired effect, Draco increased his volume and said more sinisterly than ever, "We had wanted to write a few more verses! But we couldn't find rhymes for retarded and fat-we wanted to mention his mother, you see-we couldn't find words for useless bum, either-for his father, you see. . ."

He smirked as he saw one of the Weasley twins freeze. This only made him continue on. "But you're pals with the Weasleys, isn't that right, Potter? Spend holidays and all in that dump. I don't see how you can stand the smell, but I suppose when you're brought up by Muggles, even the Weasley mess of a shack seems bearable-"

He should have expected what happened next. Harry, who had been holding back George, raging like a beast, had suddenly let him go, sending the red-hot fury his way, but not before Harry had sunk his fist, still clutching the Snitch, into his face. He had received such a beating that resulted in him squirming in pain on the grass, bood trickling from his nose. Only when Madam Hooch had used the Impediment Jinx on Harry did the boy stop trying to inflict pain on any part of Malfoy he could get his hands on. It was only after Madam Hooch had sent the two boys up, that Malfoy got up, clutching his nose and walked himself to the infirmary.

He was glad Amaranta hadn't seen him up close. To be seen with a bloody nose, and no visible scars on his opponents was a real blow to his pride as a man. Well, if it had been a matter of magic, he surely would've won. He had just finished getting his nose healed by Madam Pomfrey, when his favorite little witch shyly walked into the room. Surprisingly, she had various scratches and bruises over her as well.

"I was called out by a couple of Slytherin girls," she answered his unspoken question. "Some of your fangirls, I'm guessing. They seemed to think that Gryffindor's win was my fault, though I don't know how they came to that conclusion."

"Who was it? Tell me and-" He began, immeadiately at her side.

"No," she held a hand up, then turning to Madam Pomfrey who was making her way toward her, "and I don't want to be healed either. Even I have my pride. Besides, I'm used to much worse."

Draco, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's prescence for a bit, stroked her damaged cheek. How dare someone injure her beautiful, smooth face! If he found out, he'd use everything in his power to injure them to the point they were unrecognizable! And knowing her nature, she didn't fight back either. . ."You will be healed," he ordered, dropping his hand, instantly feeling that strange longing feeling. "I can't let anyone see my precious flower damaged so. Madam Pomfrey, if you will. . ."

The old nurse grinned broadly, as if she had just found a secret, and ran off to return with a cup of some dark green potion, still smirking at him. "Just drink this, dear," she handed the cup to Amaranta. "It'll clear up all scars in an instant. Works like a charm, everytime. Come now, drink up."

Amaranta looked hesitantly at the strange concoction, and not so surprisingly enough, it was unappetizing, too. However, she obediently forced it down, a pastey taste left in her mouth. And just like Madam Pomfrey had predicted, the scars and bruises slowly began to fade away until Amaranta was restored to her original splendor.

Draco gave the old witch a quick glare to signal her dismissal, and she left quietly, leaving them alone in the sunlit infirmary. He noticed that there were plenty of beds and chairs around for them to use, but he was afraid of getting anywhere near a bed with her.

"Listen, Draco," the sound of his name ringing from her sweet voice made his hair stand up on end. She was holding his fingers in her hands, her usually blank face betraying some sort of emotion. "I feel the need to apologize to you. You have only been trying to protect me this whole time, and I've just ignored you. Even if its for a mission, I can't deny you attention either. You're my only friend, after all, even if you are a little cruel."

That was right. He was her only friend. Not Potter, not the mud-blood, and most certainly not the Weasley, but him. He had been with her since they were little kids, he had played with her in his manor, he had led her through this school, and he'd definitely be the one to tear down the wall that seperated them. He couldn't resist a smile, as he sat her in one of the wooden chairs by the beds.

"Do you remember that time we chased around all the house elves with socks?" he reminisced happily.

He caught a fleeting smile from her. "Yes, and how they ran in fright, while uttering their apologies."

It was undeniable. He had finally caught it, her beautiful smile, and she hadn't forced it one bit, either. She truly smiled at him. He had won this round. He had seen her smile before Potter.

Draco found the beds rather tempting, since she continued to hold his hands. He had to figure out some way to distract him from the evil thoughts creeping into his mind at that moment. "Hey, Amaranta, do you want to take a ride on my broom again?"