Hey guys! This one took a little longer because I've been going through some writer's block issues…meh :(

Like I've told some of you, it's really frustrating because I know exactly where I want to go, but writing myself there is no longer effortless, for some reason.

Anyway, thanks for the wonderful feedback! Keep it coming!

Bear in mind that I'm not wearing my mithril armor today, though, so go easy on me; I'm not happy with my writing, lately.

Dedicated to Isabel (Isabelinagirl16), for all her wonderful support, and to quirkyvixen, who said: "Hello, I'm waiting!", and made me snap out of it and hasten to finish this chapter.

Thank you! :)

Il Dragone

Chapter Eight: "Sogno"

You're so beautiful

to my own eyes

for them to really see you

to my own hands

For them to touch you.

Immaculate…

-"Immaculate", by T.K.R.

X

I open the door to the Italian Club meeting room with such violence that it bangs against the wall loudly. I ignore it and burst in, walking with sure strides to the tall blond standing in the center of the room.

Stunning gray eyes regard me calmly as we face each other in silence, our bodies so close we could be touching. The room is flooded in sunlight, and there seems to be a golden glow to his flawless, bare skin, making him seem just that much more unattainable.

Our faces are inches away from each other, and Draco's looking down at me from beneath lowered lashes, unmoving, waiting.

Taking a deep breath, I put my hands on his broad shoulders and stand on the tips of my toes so I can reach his perfect lips. I seal my mouth over his, and discover his lips are warm and just as soft as I imagined, molded as they are against mine. My arms wrap around his neck, my fingers curling around his silky hair as I slide my tongue between his lips, exploring the warmth of his mouth. Thrills of pleasure break out over me as the tip of his tongue meets mine, and he runs his hands along the sides of my body and up to my face, cupping my cheeks.

Draco breaks away and looks into my face, which is framed between the black fingerless gloves he wears. We look at each other in silence, and then he dips his head to capture my lips with his.

He tilts my head, opening me to him as his teeth tug at my lower lip. His skilled tongue thrusts into my mouth deeply, brushing against mine, eliciting a whimper from me quite against my will.

Oh. My. God.

Where did he learn how to kiss like that? Wait, I don't care. All that matters is that he is kissing me.

He's breathing heavily, with his hands on my hips now, pressing my body flush against his as he leads me towards the bed, not breaking our kiss.

I fall back onto the mattress and he quickly follows, bracing his arms on either side of my head, never breaking eye contact. I run my fingers through the silk of his hair, and then over his pale skin, which is soft as porcelain. I can feel him smile against my lips as he continues to kiss me, leaving me breathless as his hot, silky tongue dances around mine.

I'm trembling now, and surely he can see that- he can feel it, tangled as he is in me.

"Ginny," he murmurs, "I've wanted this for so long…"

Hearing him say that, and hearing my name on his lips, floods me with almost as much pleasure as the feel of his hot, wet tongue revolving around mine. Almost.

"Ginny!"

I'm being shaken roughly now, and for a moment am filled with confusion as light floods my eyes.

"Ginny!"

"Shawn?"

I squint up at her, still fuzzy from sleep and trembling, and it takes a while for me to realize that I was dreaming just now. I could weep right now, really, I could.

"Gosh, Ginny, I've been trying to wake you up for five minutes!" Shawn complains, still a blonde blur in my vision. "I kept saying your name over and over!"

"Yes," I say forlornly, realizing that it wasn't Draco calling out my name insistently.

Gahhh! Blasted Shawn!

I turn to glare at her and immediately have to shut my eyes, still sensitive to the bright light.

"Why couldn't you just let me sleep five more minutes!" I growl furiously, pulling up the covers over my face, but my eyes are still burning painfully under my puffy lids.

"Because," Shawn snaps back, ripping the covers away, "you've missed breakfast, you dork! I did let you sleep, but we have Double Potions in ten minutes, so get up!"

"Arrrrgghh!" I bellow, getting up on my knees reluctantly, my sheets still caught in my fists.

"I brought you a muffin, but I ate it on the way," Shawn informs me unapologetically. "I think I have some potato chips, though," she murmurs a moment later, bending down to rifle through her massive trunk.

I'm ripping my sleeping garb off, still scowling as I change into my uniform. Then I pause and glare at my best friend.

I guess I should thank her, really.

"Shawn, I love you," I mutter quietly. "Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah, get dressed!" she retorts grumpily, tossing me a bag of chips. "And never call me Draco again!"

X

My dream affected me more than I would have expected. The image of Draco's gorgeous body tangled over mine still sends shockwaves down my spine.

And the thing is- I've been trying to decide if I'd actually do something if I really could have him that way.

It would be a dream come true; literally- ha.

But, you see, I've never come close to doing any of that stuff. Would I do it with Draco, just like that?

Seriously, though. Wouldn't I feel like some sort of slut, afterwards? Would I be any different from Aiken Dunn?

It's a prickly thought, a moral dilemma of sorts. It's been floating around the periphery of my mind all day, waiting for me, claiming my full attention at the most inopportune of moments.

Snape's been shooting little glares in my direction since class started; he's so used to having my undivided, slightly drooling attention at all times, that I can tell he's sort of baffled at seeing me staring off into space.

Finally it appears he can't hold back anymore, and he lashes out - taking care not to pass up the opportunity of insulting Shawn in the process.

"I see that being constantly in Ms. Salmone's presence has finally affected you, Ms. Weasley," he says smoothly, in that deliciously deep and arrogant voice of his that is so much like steel sheathed in velvet. "You've become, if possible, nearly as rude and insufferable as your dearest friend. I must say I'm disappointed, but not surprised," he murmurs, dripping sarcasm as his stygian eyes burn into mine.

I blush furiously, but force myself to not look away, meeting his cold, dark eyes unwaveringly.

Shawn squeezes my knee under our desk while glaring at Snape with all her might, but manages to keep quiet, for once. Merlin knows her opening her mouth would only make matters worse.

"Five points from Gryffindor," he continues softly, "for staring at the ceiling through my lecture."

The Potions Master looks at me for a moment longer, his pale, chiseled face hard as stone but completely devoid of emotion. Then he turns to Shawn, and the two have a mini glaring contest before he resumes his lecture, ignoring us both during the remainder of the two-hour lesson.

I go through the rest of the lesson mechanically, and when the bell rings I hasten to pack my things, anxious to get out of there as quickly as possible. I grab my bag and vie for the door, but a smooth baritone voice stops me dead in my tracks.

"Ms. Weasley, a word."

I turn to find my Potions professor standing beside his desk, giving me a good view of his sharp, beautiful profile. He is wearing his knee-high boots and one of those intricate all black ensembles of his I suspect are composed of: a pair of black trousers, a black shirt, a black vest -perhaps a frock or tunic- and his lovely black robes, which have large, flowing sleeves, like sinister wings.

I can't be sure, though; he seems wrapped in several layers of dark cloth, and you can only ever see parts of the whole. I'd love to find out, to unwrap him like a present, like a Chinese box, peeling back layers of black clothes until I get to smooth, pale skin…

But I digress.

Also, it's obvious my delicious dream-romp with Draco has awakened my appetite for man flesh today.

Uh, anyway…

When I reach my Potions Master I find he is looking at the row of flasks that line his desk, filled with today's efforts to produce Pepper Up Potion. Mine is the expected shade of pink, and so are a few of the others, including Shawn's. There is one, however, which is a curious shade of booger-green.

Snape and I both observe it with some interest when it starts to bubble, and then he flicks his wand in a smooth, graceful motion, and the flasks disappear. It is only then he deigns to address me, although at no time does he turn to look at me, you understand.

"Ms. Weasley, you have been extremely distracted as of late. Your performance has steadily declined," he observes tersely, while his long, thin fingers arrange some of the papers on his desk. "Your work is still above par, but I confess I've come to expect more from you."

My face burns with shame and I bite my lip, staring at my feet. "I'm sorry, professor…"

"You seem to be stretching yourself thin these days, Ms. Weasley," he comments dryly, as if I hadn't spoken. "The newspaper, Quidditch…perhaps some personal issues. I am aware that you are, despite your excellence, merely a teenager, and as such, prone to foolishness."

What?

Am I crazy, or is there a compliment twisted into that tirade of criticism?

I snap my head up, searching for his eyes, but he ignores me; his words the only indication that he still remembers I am there.

"I deem it pertinent to advise you not forsake your academic performance in lieu of your new interests. You are dismissed."

I look up at him and notice that his handsome –if deathly pale- face is no longer hard, though it remains completely devoid of expression.

"Thank you," I breathe, blushing when he flicks his dark eyes to mine. They are just as unreadable as they ever were, just as intense. "Professor," I add softly, almost as an afterthought, making it all the more obvious that I had not intended to say it at all.

Thank you, Severus.

He looks at me for the first time, saying nothing and in no way acknowledging my thanks.

I nod and turn away, shifting the strap of my shoulder bag as I walk.

A grin spreads over my features, and a warm sort of glow lights up somewhere inside of me.

Shawn's always told me, with no small level of distaste, that Snape adores me, but I had never dared to believe it until just now.

To me this is as much a declaration of his love -okay, his respect and concern- for me as I'll ever receive.

I walk out of the Potions classroom with a slight sprint in my step, all the while resisting the urge to turn back to him- and it is then I encounter the sixth year Gryffindor/Slytherin Potions class.

My stomach does an awkward flop.

All thought of my beloved Snape is instantly forgotten at the prospect of seeing a certain platinum blond, I'm sad to say.

"You weren't at breakfast," my brother comments as he walks by with his courageous friends, not slowing his pace.

"Yeah, I overslept," I call back, as my eyes rove over the small crowd.

"What a coincidence, so did I," Blaise Zabini murmurs right in my ear, earning himself a glare from Ron from across the hall. "Except I sincerely doubt you were up late doing the same thing I was last night."

"Hey, Blaise," I say evenly, choosing to ignore the innuendo, and looking past his shoulder.

"Oh, Draco's not here, love," he says casually, but his eyes glint with playful malice. "He's with the big man himself, the top banana."

I turn to glare at the handsome dark skinned Slytherin, noting with some annoyance the almost romantic way his curls seemed to frame his exquisite face. "Why on earth would you tell me that?" I demand heatedly, with my hands on my hips.

"No reason whatsoever," he drawls, his grin widening.

"For your information, I was not looking for your precious Draco," I snap, saying the name as if it were some exotic tropical disease. "I was looking for my friend Shawn."

"Okay, no need to get worked up, princess," he returns, raising placating hands, but his sensuous lips are curved into an amused smirk.

I narrow my eyes at him. "My name is Ginny," I say, meeting his dark, slanted eyes. "Not 'princess' or 'love'."

"Okay, Ginny," he says softly, as if savoring the name, his beautiful eyes never leaving mine.

If the words 'devilishly handsome' have ever fit someone's description, it's Blaise Zabini's.

Any other girl would be melting like wax on the floor in that moment, but my infatuation with a certain platinum blond makes me immune to Blaise's considerable charm.

I suspect he knows this.

Anyway, just then we are joined by Thedore Nott and his ever-present ironic grin. Before he can make his undoubtedly picturesque opening remark, however, Shawn's voice interrupts hotly.

"Ginny!" she barks from the end of the hall, with a hint of annoyance. "Come on!"

I turn to Blaise with a 'see, there really is a Shawn!' look, and he smirks graciously.

"Bye, Ginny," he says, as I turn away.

"Yeah- bye, Ginny," Nott adds, in exactly the same seductive, drawling tone Blaise has used.

I roll my eyes but can't help myself from grinning as I turn around, hastening after Shawn.

X

After Potions I had Charms and Transfigurations, so I was glad to break for lunch.

Wednesdays are weird because the mornings are packed with heavy subjects, but the afternoons are "free". Free for the Book Club and Film Club, and Quidditch, of course!

At lunch I concentrated on ignoring the Slytherin table, and it wasn't that hard -I received a raging owl from one Molly Weasley, demanding to know what I'd "done to poor Fred."

Apparently he's gone off the deep end, but Mum didn't elaborate.

Here's where my Slytherin-like sneakiness kicks in; I refuse to admit to anything until I know exactly what I'm being accused of.

I owled George immediately asking for a briefing on Fred's newest exploits and sent Errol sans reply back to the Burrow, bearing a pair of socks I'd summoned from my room - dirty socks in need of sewing; I'm expecting a Howler from Mum at any moment.

Then I came to the library, which is where I am now. I've been sitting at the newspaper staff table during the last half an hour or so, and I've met two of the writers I'm editing for already, and have one more meeting left.

Yeah. It's been a long day, and it's far from over.

I've been daydreaming about Draco, hating myself for it, especially when I remember Snape's tongue-lashing; and you know I don't mean the good kind…

I know, I'm grossing you out. You don't want to think about the Potions Master's tongue lashing at anything.

If only you could see him like I do, though…he really is handsome!

"Hey, Ginny!" Aiden Knight greets me smiling broadly and I'm suddenly jerked out of my musings. "Sorry I'm late!"

He's a blond haired seventh year, the Ravenclaw in charge of our "serious" article, a piece on "teenage depression"; in reality it's a covert analysis of the effect of the war on the psyche of British wizarding youth.

I wanted to go right out and say it was about the war, but Cho was against it. She said nobody wants to talk about the war anymore, much less read about it. I know she's right; I can't even remember the last time I actually heard someone say the word "war". But just because people want to pretend something didn't happen doesn't mean they should be allowed to.

We're journalists, aren't we? Isn't it our job to denounce these types of collective self-delusions, to speak the truth, even when no one wants to hear it?

Yeah, well. Either way Cho pulls rank, so forget about it.

"Here's the piece," Aiden says, setting a green folder on the table in front of me.

"Good. I'll read it tonight," I murmur, grabbing the folder and slipping it into my bag.

"Uh, Ginny…" Aiden says quietly, taking a seat across from me. "I've been meaning to ask you a question…"

I look at him curiously, for in the past three weeks of working with the seventh year I've never seen him look so serious; he's the type to be making jokes, to be constantly grinning and chuckling.

"Yes?" I ask, tilting my head to the side. "What is it?"

Aiden grins in typical Aiden-fashion, but I'm not fooled; something's up.

"Are you dating anyone?"

"What?" I stare at him, surprise written all over my face. "Aiden, I know for a fact that you have a girlfriend…"

"Oh, no, no!" he says quickly, blushing – another first. "I'm not asking for myself…see, I know someone who fancies you, but he thinks you're probably dating someone. I told him I didn't think so, but now I'm not so sure…"

I gape, trying to make sense of all of this, and the Ravenclaw grins again.

I feel a self-conscious blush spread over my cheeks and have to admit that the thought of being carefully discussed and considered as a viable option by two young wizards is flattering.

"I guess it's unconventional to come straight to you and ask," Aiden says, shrugging, "but I figured it wouldn't hurt…besides, I'm not good at scheming."

"Who is it?" I blurt, staring at him intently.

Aiden's grin widens. "I'm not at liberty to say, my dear. Just know that he's what you women consider an 'eligible' young man…"

I continue to look at him, narrowing my eyes now. "Is he a Ravenclaw, a seventh year?"

He chuckles. "Come on, girl Weasley, are you taken or not?" he asks pointedly, ignoring my questions.

I look at him, considering my options.

It could be Michael Corner. That stupid jerk has tried to get back together with me several times, especially after those smutty stories made their way around the castle. This doesn't feel like something Michael would do, though, and I sincerely doubt it's him; he just stares at me listlessly from the Ravenclaw table, and occasionally sends me chocolates - which I dutifully give to Shawn. It's been several months since his last attempt.

That only leaves one other option...

I grin smugly in anticipation of the look of surprise Aiden will give me, and don't even pause to map out the possible repercussions of what I'm about to say.

"Aiden," I drawl, leaning back into my chair, "tell your 'eligible' friend, Paul, that I'm not dating anyone right now."

X

I've been in the library for a good two hours.

I was feeling quite pleased when I got Aiden to admit my admirer is Paul Keegan. A second later he just had to go and ruin things, of course, by adding, "He hasn't dated anyone since Cho Chang, and you know she's doing Malfoy again, so I'm glad Paul is ready to move on."

I kept a big, fake smile plastered on my face from that moment on, only half-listening as the blond Ravenclaw tried sell me Paul as if he were a used broom.

"He's got tons of twits chasing after him. Most girls just see his good looks and massive fortune, but Paul's a really sensitive kind of guy. Hahahaha. Point taken, you don't have to roll your eyes at me like that, Gin. I'm laying it on a bit thick, aren't I? I'm just saying, with your sarcastic humor and Paul's quick Ravenclaw wit…" he trailed off meaningfully, and I resisted the urge to snort.

Yeah, cause all I want in a relationship is someone I can tour the comedy club circuit with.

After Aiden left, I switched over to my preferred spot, an out of the way table near the Restricted Section.

I'm sitting here now, tapping at my open Arithmancy notebook, where I've doodled a picture of a girl; a rather unfortunate girl, I might add, who gets mauled by a cat –a remarkably ugly cat...I'm no artist, okay?- and manages to escape, only to be struck down by lightening, later bursting into flames.

It's a crude drawing, but it does a good job of helping me relieve the bitterness and frustration that threatens to consume me.

And yes, though you can't see the doodle's face, her long, silky dark hair bears a striking resemblance to that of a certain seventh year Ravenclaw who shall remain nameless.

So anyway, I'm sitting there, staring out the window with a no doubt inane expression on my face, when who should walk right in but Draco freaking Malfoy, looking like he just stepped out of a catalog.

He's wearing his school uniform, just like all the other boys, but somehow he manages to make the robes, plain gray trousers, jumper and green striped tie look incredibly sexy.

Draco's fair hair is up in that half tied, half loose style that suits him so very, very well. He's walking with that casual grace of his, with his hands in his pockets, and his slate colored eyes are scanning the room lazily.

I feel my skin burn as if it were on fire, and my heart pounds so fast it feels like it will give any minute now.

I try to duck my head to not make it obvious that I was gaping at him, but quite suddenly his stunning eyes meet mine, and I freeze. We stare at each other for a long moment, and I lose myself in those cold, silver depths.

Draco saunters up to me, his face devoid of expression, but I see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. My pathetic dream flashes before my eyes, but falls to the ground like a wounded bird, unable to compare to the real thing; my mind did not do him justice.

"W-what are you doing here?" I inquire, trying to sound nonchalant as he stands there in front of me.

"Looking for you," he says plainly, as if it should be obvious.

I raise my eyebrows and stare up at him, trying to not look pleased.

"Why?"

Draco looks at me impatiently and rolls his gray eyes around. "Because, Weasley, I want you to work on my club publicity. How many times do I have to spell it out for you?" He's sneering, but somehow he doesn't look vicious, like he used to back in the day. "Maybe if I draw you a diagram, or write up some brightly colored cue cards for you, you'll finally get it."

"What are you going on about?" I demand, trembling from the inside and trying desperately to hide it. "I can't believe we're going to have this conversation again, Malfoy. I specifically assigned you someone to take care of all your club rot," I say haughtily. "Is there a reason why you've stood up poor Vanessa Kahn three times?"

Somehow I've managed to sound indignant, keeping the utter glee I feel out of my voice.

"Yes, there is a reason," Draco says, sounding even haughtier than I just did, and arching a delicate eyebrow.

He leans forward then, resting the palms of his hands on the table between us, and levels his beautiful face with mine.

I look from the tips of his long slender fingers up to his face and meet his eyes, trying not to blush or to breathe deeply; the scent of him has filled my nostrils.

"Why would I bother with your underlings when I can come straight to you?" he inquires softly, in that deep, silky voice of his. "You can handle my 'club rot'. Stop acting like you don't want to."

I look into his eyes, deep pools of gray, like clouds reflected on water. It must be rainy outside...

"I already told you," I mumble evasively, looking away, "I don't have time. I'm extremely busy…"

Draco glances at my doodles meaningfully.

"I can see that…" he begins dryly, and then his fine brow gathers in confusion. "Hey, wait a minute-" he says suddenly, with unmistakable amusement coloring his voice, tilting his head to the side to get a better glance. "Is that Cho?"

"No!" I snap, quickly slamming my notebook shut. "It's not."

Draco straightens and looks down at me curiously, a playful smirk lighting his features briefly as he folds his arms across his chest. "I'm sure Cho's not a very good boss," he drawls after a moment, "but she probably doesn't deserve to be set on fire."

I don't comment, but my scowl deepens.

Draco's smirk broadens into a grin. My heart soars as he draws the chair across from me and sits on it with his accustomed grace, leaning forward towards me, his eyes seeking mine.

"Gods, Weasley, you're just full of repressed impulses, aren't you?" he asks, and from his tone I can't gauge if he's being serious or not. "Poor Cho…At least you didn't go and write a lewd story about her -or did you?" he demands slyly, sounding suspiciously hopeful, in my opinion.

I won't deny that witnessing Draco Malfoy deem something 'lewd' is amusing, but I'm in no laughing mood.

"Malfoy, is there a reason why you're still here?" I snap, glaring at him with genuine annoyance.

The last thing I need is for him to come defend his…lover, or whatever.

"Oh, and did you want for us to go elsewhere?" he inquires, raising a delicate eyebrow. "Did you have anywhere special in mind, hmm? The dungeons, maybe?"

I look at him incredulously. "I don't understand you at all, Draco," I say suddenly, quite truthfully- and then I snap my mouth shut, realizing what I've said.

The use of his given name catches us both completely by surprise, and we look at each other blankly for a moment.

The last time I called him Draco was the day we almost kissed. It seems so long ago, though in reality barely a week has passed.

I look at him, remembering the feel of his hands on my hips, of his body pressed to mine, our lips almost brushing.

I force myself to tear my eyes away. I don't know what I'm expecting him to say, but he remains silent, watching me with an expression I can't decipher.

"Why are you here? I mean, really?" I tread on resolutely. "Why does it have to be me?"

Draco rolls his eyes around, and then smiles enigmatically. He leans back in his chair, balancing on its hind legs. "Does there have to be a reason to everything?" he inquires, looking at me in the eye.

Why does he have to make so much eye contact, that wanker; doesn't he know the effect his eyes have on me, on women in general?

Oh…Right. That's exactly why…

"Anyway, I told you, Weasley," he says dryly, "sometimes I feel like I'm a Golden goddamned Snitch, and every single girl in this school is a Seeker," Draco murmurs, looking away from me, past some point over my right shoulder. "Do you have any idea what that's like?" he trails off, and I detect a hint of bitterness in his voice. "At least you -'I might just go get myself fucked' notwithstanding-" he says softly, smirking when I glower at him, "you're not like that."

By the balls of Merlin - is it possible that everyone memorized the lines of my horribly embarrassing sexual independence manifesto?

"I already told you I-" I begin heatedly.

"-Do you have any idea of how insolent you are?" Draco cuts me off, crashing down on the front legs of his chair abruptly.

I jump in spite of myself.

He's looking at me intently, leaning across the table towards me. "Nobody talks to me like that, did you know that?" Draco says quietly. "Hardly anybody talks to me, really talks to me, at all. Nobody else has the guts…"

I stare at him in silence, taking in the expression of indifference on his exquisite face, so different from the blazing fire in his gray eyes, and my heart goes out to him.

I know he's right. Most people still think of him as a Death Eater wannabe, as Ron put it. I wonder if the label will ever truly disappear from his forehead.

He's looking at the table in silence, and there it is again, that flash of vulnerability that makes him more beautiful than anything I've ever seen, that makes him almost painful to look at. Achingly beautiful, is what he is, and I never thought something like that existed until I saw him.

"Draco…" I say softly, closing my eyes briefly when he looks up at me.

Please, I can't, I want to beg, please don't look at me like that.

But I say nothing; oddly enough, I'm not brave enough to be vulnerable in front of him.

"What?" he asks impatiently, and I can feel his eyes searching mine, but I just can't look at him.

He doesn't mind that I'm calling him by his name, some part of me notes, rejoicing savagely.

"What were you doing in Dumbledore's office this morning?" I blurt, once again surprising the both of us.

Where the hell did that come from?

"Who told you that I was with him?" Draco demands, and I finally gather the nerve to look at him.

He seems tense and wary all of a sudden, and I curse myself for being so dumb. What possessed me to ask him that?

"Forget it," I say simply, raising my eyebrows and looking away.

Draco glares at me shrewdly for a moment, and then snorts. "Blaise is such a girl," he states scornfully.

He doesn't answer my question and I don't press further. Like I said, I don't even know what prompted me to ask in the first place.

"Listen," he says, and I raise my eyes to his again. "That Ravenclaw you fixed me up with, what's-her-face-"

"Kahn," I say patiently.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't dare go near her," Draco says dramatically. "She keeps giving me these hungry sort-of looks." He shudders delicately. "Really, it's embarrassing to me. She made me blush, the other day, it was that naughty."

This time I roll my eyes around, but I don't doubt for one second Draco is telling the truth. Not about him blushing- please. I have no illusions about Draco's virtue - but about the hungry looks…I can totally sympathize with Kahn, there.

Also, I'm incredibly pleased that Vanessa Kahn's sleazy charm did nothing to catch Draco's interest. What was I doing, when I "set them up" as Draco so candidly put it? What, indeed, was going through my head? If they had ended up liking each other I'd be beating myself in the head with my chair right now.

I smile benignly, my mood instantly improved.

"Poor Draco," I say, pouting, and he arches an eyebrow elegantly. "It's no wonder you're the biggest whore in Hogwarts," I continue in mock commiseration. "You have to swat girls away like flies, don't you, you poor thing."

He flashes me a glare.

"Weasley, while I did say I find your brand of incivility refreshing," Draco begins haughtily, "I didn't come here to be insulted by the likes of you. I came to work on the publicity, remember?"

"And who said I'd agreed to such a thing?" I demand, though my mind is already made up to give in; it happened the moment I saw him walking towards me- I knew I'd say YES to whatever he'd asked…thank the gods it hadn't involved heavy roping, or a chicken suit.

Although I wouldn't mind the roping so much, if it was Draco tying me up…heh, heh.

Sorry...

Anyway!

He's looking at me with something very close to a pout of his own, and you have no idea how adorable it is. I fight the urge to smile.

"Fine!" I say, managing to sound annoyed. "I'll work with your infernal club publicity, just so you stop stalking me. But not now. My world doesn't revolve around you, you know," I lie, looking him straight in the eye. "I really am busy, I have places to go."

"Really?" Draco inquires, raising an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Not that it's any of your business," I retort, "but I have club meetings and Quidditch."

"And after Quidditch?" he inquires, settling back in his seat comfortably, with an arm over the back of his chair. Draco's looking at me intensely, very intensely, and I'm trying to keep myself from fidgeting under his unwavering gray eyes.

"Shawn," I say, tearing my eyes away. "I'm meeting Shawn for something."

It's true. I'm helping Shawn study for Potions. Basically what this means is I'm forcing her to sit down and do her homework. She needs for someone to insist upon this kind of thing.

The thought of being with Draco instead of babysitting Shawn crosses my mind, but doesn't linger; as far as I'm concerned, it's not even an option.

"Salmone?" Draco inquires, looking interested. "The blond Snape hates?"

I clear my throat and grin from behind my hand.

Oh, yeah. That's Shawn, all right.

"Hmm…" Draco leans back into his chair, his pewter colored eyes finally leaving my face as he looks towards the ceiling thoughtfully. "She's kind of hot, you know…Tell her she can come to the next club meeting."

I look at him incredulously; is he serious?

"And she can even bring that Irish twit, Finnigan," Draco adds magnanimously, inclining his head slightly as he folds his arms across his chest. "If she can lasso him, that is…"

I glare at him furiously, but before I can open my mouth, his lips curve into a deliciously wicked grin. "Forget it," he says mockingly, rolling his eyes around. "I know that she's your BFF."

A snort of laughter escapes me before I can help it. "BFF? Draco Malfoy, I can't believe you just said that…Where on earth did you learn that word?" I say, smirking. "And how do you know that, anyway, that Shawn's my 'BFF'?"

Draco sighs. "Please, you two are joined at the hip. It's pathetic. But kind of… sexy…" he fixes his silver eyes on me again. "I mean, you do everything together, don't you? Like…take showers together, and stuff?"

I scoff. "Don't be such a teenage boy."

He shrugs elegantly, completely unapologetic.

"Anyway, I already asked Shawn to come to your club, and she laughed at me," I inform him. "Maybe you should invite her yourself."

Draco snorts. "Sure, I'll do that. I'll go from uptight Gryffindor to uptight Gryffindor, begging them to come to my club."

"Shawn is not uptight!" I protest heatedly.

"Whatever," Draco returns, as I begin to shove my things into my bag. "Where are you going?" he inquires.

I give him a glance as I stand and gather the last of my things. His arms are folded across his chest and he's looking up at me calmly.

"I have to go to the Book Club now," I tell him, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"There's a Book Club?" He sounds genuinely surprised.

"Yeah…" I say slowly, tilting my face to the side and meeting his eyes. An idea has formed in my mind quite suddenly. The image of Draco and I, sitting side by side, our heads bent over my copy of "In the Swirls of the Pensieve"

"How about it?"

"Excuse me?" he inquires, raising her eyebrows.

"You can come with me, to the Book Club!" I say suddenly, smiling widely. "You like to read, I've seen you."

Okay…that was kind of pathetic.

Draco raises an eyebrow. "Your thought process is quite complex, Weasley," he says sardonically, and I stick my tongue out at him.

"Nice come-back," he says, smirking.

Then he stands.

I watch as he walks around the table, coming to stand next to me, and my knees wobble at his proximity.

"The Book Club, huh?" Draco says quietly, looking at me with a curious expression on his perfectly symmetrical face.

I nod. "It's great…" I squeak, and then clear my throat. "I think you'd like it," I say, sounding more like a teenager and less like a scared five year old this time. "But if you're busy…"

Draco looks at me impassively and I fidget slightly in spite of myself.

"Would you like me to come with you?" he asks quietly, his eyes running up and down my face and then meeting mine.

I open my mouth and close it again, shifting my eyes to the knot of his tie. It's perfect, of course, and I'm trembling like jelly, of course.

"Well," I say, looking down at my shoes and then up at him again. "I mean, if you want to…"

His silver eyes are regarding me intently, and I gather my nerve.

"Yes, I'd like you to come."

Draco's face remains expressionless, but the way he's looking at me is making my heart rate accelerate almost painfully.

"Okay then," he says, in that deep melodious voice that sends ripples through me. "I'll come with you."

Right.

It takes every ounce of my willpower to stop myself from smiling goofily or, worse, squealing delightedly. I simply nod and turn away, walking towards the exit of the library, and Draco follows me.

Sogno: dream.

I can promise you an interesting encounter at the Book Club meeting…You know how bookish those Ravenclaws are…

Mwa ha ha ha.

So yeah, those of you who did not review the previous chapter because of the block last week during ff. net's interminable upgrades, feel free to make it up to me this time by giving me an extra-long review! ;p

To all my anonymous reviewers: Thanks so much! I love anon. reviews, you guys are so sweet. I've gotten some wonderful compliments and I'm sad that I can't reply!