IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: when reading the part where Draco is outside the
Gryffindor Common Room and until he enters the bathroom of The Three
Broomsticks, you should start playing the Pink Panther theme tune in your
head. It adds 10% more humour to the thing. Seriously!
Thank-you all for reviewing also. And now- onwards!
DRACO.
I expect you heard the news.
Harry... Harry's going to- going to... no, I just can't say it. Alright. I'll try. Harry is going to go on a *date* with that... that *thing.* The little... little fucking hyperactive *slut* who's always running around so happy, flirting and smiling at Harry as if it was *natural* or something!
I didn't believe it at first. That Harry would agree to go *anywhere* with that sandy-haired, immature little twerp is almost beyond my comprehension. He's not even good-looking! Well... perhaps he is. But I'm about a thousand times better than him! Why did Harry agree to it? WHY??!
Alright, honestly I know the answer. It's because Finnegan isn't *mean* to him.
But *still...!!*
It was all over the school by dawn. Several girls from the younger years were actually *crying.* Hufflepuffs, mostly, who have that naïve and sickeningly romantic idea that Date= Marriage and True Love for Evermore.
Ha!
I managed to get the truth out of a First Year Ravenclaw, (and no- I didn't actually carry *out* any of my threats- I don't want to get expelled, do I?) that apparently Finnegan *tricked* Harry into agreeing to it, and then refused to let him back out. This sounds rather plausible, because firstly, Harry is so trusting it's no trouble to make him agree to anything, and secondly, Harry being *Harry* and the ever-noble Gryffindor that he is, would not even *think* of backing out of something he'd said he'd do.
Breakfast lightened my spirits considerably. Harry came in late, and stopped dead when everyone went silent and stared at him. Then when he clocked Finnegan sitting at the table he got a desperate look in his eye and sat as far away from him as possible. Then, when Seamus moved closer to him and tried to not-so-subtle-ly grope him Harry tried to push him off every time and, when that didn't work, fled from the room.
Heh heh heh. Not so cocky now, eh Finnegan? Die you bastard! DIE!!!
I've already started on my very comprehensive list of 101 Ways to Kill Seamus Finnegan. However, the rate it's going, I'll probably have to change it to 1001 Ways. I've started out with the usual ones- such as burn him in a cauldron of boiling oil, and throw him into a pit of snakes before making him eat his own eyeballs. I'm starting to move on to the *less* tame ones now.
HERMIONE.
I was just sitting down to a nice relaxing session with 'Hogwarts: A History' when Ron appeared at my side.
"'Mione," he muttered, "we need help. Our dormitory- NOW."
I was about to remind him that I wasn't really *allowed* in his dormitory, but one look at his face told me not to. He looked distinctly stressed.
I followed him up to the room, and when I entered it I gasped.
Now, I know boys aren't renowned for their tidiness, but this was simply ridiculous. Clothes of every colour, size and description were strewn absolutely everywhere, from lying crumpled on the floor to hanging over the curtain rails. In the middle of this bomb sight sat Harry, looking very glum.
"What on *earth...*" I said.
"We're trying to pick something out for Harry to wear in Hogsmeade, where Harry obviously wants to put Seamus off him," explained Ron. His voice took on an hysterical quality as he went on, "but nothing Harry tries on looks bad, 'Mione! NOTHING! Even my maroon jumper! How could this *be?!*"
"I really need your help, 'Mione," said Harry, looking quite desperate.
I sighed. My two boys were *always* getting into these sorts of situations, and I *always* had to help them!
"Right," I said, sitting gingerly on a clothes-covered bed. Ron sat beside me. "I assume you've narrowed down the choices. Let's start."
"Well," said Harry, holding up a grey T-shirt, "this is my oldest piece of clothing. I've had it for about ten years and it doesn't fit me. Here- let me just put it on..."
Then Harry took off the blue shirt he had on. Couldn't he have *warned* me?? I may be his surrogate sister, but *still...!* I let out a small whimper.
"'Mione?" said Ron incredulously, "did you just... *squeak?!*"
"No!" I yelped. Harry had the grey T-shirt on now- thank GOD.
I looked at it for a few seconds. Then Ron and I exchanged glances.
"Well, what do you reckon?" said Harry rather awkwardly.
"Um... it's rather *tight* Harry, isn't it?" I managed to get out.
Harry looked down at it. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Seamus would probably *like* that..."
He pulled it off again. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop *another* squeak escaping. Ron was glaring at me. Well, it wasn't my fault! Ron was used to it- he saw Harry in a state of undress every *day!* Probably just getting out of the shower as well.... oh dear. I shouldn't really have thought that. I felt my face heat up as I pulled my hand away from my mouth and smiled weakly at Ron. I then tried to look anywhere but at Harry. Ron wasn't looking too pleased, to say the least.
Harry was now doing up the buttons on a black shirt. This meant I could see his chest for twice as long as usual. Oh dear *Lord.*
The shirt didn't have the desired effect of looking bad. Oh hell. Ron was right. *Nothing* looked bad on Harry. Most people have at least one colour that they shouldn't wear, that makes them look less than their best. But Harry... pale colours looked nice. Rich colours looked nice. Black made his skin stand out even more. And green *definitely* brought out the colour of his eyes.
"Harry," I said after a while, "for the first time ever, Ron is completely right-" ("Hey!" said Ron) "- nothing can look bad on you." When Harry began to protest, I added, "no *really.* Just wear what you want- it won't make a difference."
Harry shrugged and began to take off the white T-shirt he had on.
"For God's sake!" I shrieked. "Harry, can you *please* keep your clothes *on?!*"
I fled from the room.
DRACO.
It's... Saturday. And you know what that means. Harry Potter and Seamus Finnegan are going out. On a *date.*
What they *don't* know is that of course I shall be spying on them every step of the way.
Well, what did you expect? I didn't leave Harry to be mauled by the likes of Blaise Zabini and I *certainly* won't let *that* little slut get his claws into him!
Before I did this, of course, I had to sort out my Spying clothes. Just because it's an undercover operation doesn't mean that the fashion side of things is allowed to get into disarray. Just *who* exactly do you think I am?
I'd gone to the library the day before and got out this Muggle book by this bloke called Chandler or something. Now, *his* private eye wore this sort of coat and some kind of weird hat. I decided to follow suit. I transfigured some of my clothes into these said items, but of course made them black, and not that dreadful brown colour like in the pictures. Some people have *no* sense of style. *Honestly.*
At precisely 10.04 am I was outside the Gryffindor Common Room, as a bouncy Seamus Finnegan and a much more reluctant Harry Potter came out of the Portrait Hole. They proceeded down the hallway. I was just about to follow them when a shifty-looking Weasel and Granger stepped out of the Common Room as well, staring at the backs of Harry and Finnegan. They had obviously had the same idea as me. Damn. I just *love* to be original. Seems I can't be today.
After they had walked down the hallway as well, I proceeded to follow them.
HERMIONE.
It was at about one in the afternoon when we finally spotted him.
Ron and I were just strolling through Hogsmeade, trying to look like we were doing nothing but actually following Harry and Seamus at a discreet distance as Harry had *begged* us to. Harry looked like he wasn't having *too* terrible a time, however. He laughed at a few things Seamus said.
As we passed Honeyduke's, Ron looked behind him with a puzzled expression.
"'Mione," he said, "is it just me, or is someone following us?"
I looked around quickly, to see a piece of black material whip round a corner.
We proceeded to walk on, but I was now more than aware of the person behind us. We stopped, feigning interest in a shop display, and I was able to see who it was in the shiny glass of the window.
"Ron," I hissed, "is that... *Malfoy?!*"
"Blimey, I *think* so," Ron whispered back, "but what is he *wearing?!*"
Ron was completely right. As Malfoy hid behind walls and ducked behind useful bits of architecture on the street, obviously thinking he was being *very* discreet, I saw his clothes. It seemed he was wearing a black trench cloak and... a *trilby.*
They rather suited him, in a way. And at least he wasn't tapping for once.
"Just ignore him," I said. My eyes strayed over to Seamus and Harry, who were about to enter The Three Broomsticks. "Quick! They're getting away!" I hissed. We ran after them.
DRACO.
When I entered the pub, Harry and Finnegan were sitting at a table in the corner, both clutching Butterbeers. Weasley and Granger were sitting quite close to them, obviously trying not to be noticed. Ha! They were doing a terrible job. They should learn from a pro, like *me.*
HERMIONE.
Malfoy sat in a darkened corner of the room, not too far from us. I then noticed he had donned sunglasses and was looking over the top of his copy of the Daily Prophet at us, before quickly ducking his head again.
Ron was getting completely freaked out. He kept snatching glances at Malfoy with an incredulous expression on his face. "What the *hell* is he *doing?*" he kept whispering.
I shook my head. Then it hit me. It was *obvious.* Malfoy's tapping, the twitches, the muttering to himself, the following us around, could only mean one thing.
Draco Malfoy was having a nervous breakdown. At 16.
I didn't have time to expand on this thought when Seamus suddenly got up and approached our table.
"Ah, don't look so guilty," he said to us, "I've known you were there all day. You might as well come and join us."
We sheepishly picked up out tankards and followed Seamus over to Harry.
DRACO.
Finnegan was touching Harry.
He was fucking *touching* him!!
Oh, I knew his ploy to invite Weasley and Granger over to his table was just as cover. Now he thought he had an *excuse* to lean up against Harry. I was willing to kill Seamus with only Way No. 223. Now he's *really* earned Way No. 361.
Suddenly Harry gave a little yelp and jumped three feet into the air.
That little bastard was touching him up under the table! Right I'll kill him, AND he'd earned Way No. 442 now. *No* holds barred...
Suddenly Harry jumps up from the table and *races* for the toilet.
Now, usually I don't go into public conveniences. The thought of hundreds of people using the same conveniences makes me shudder, actually. All those thousands of bacteria absolutely *everywhere...* urgh!
But... *Harry* was in there. *Alone.*
As long as I didn't touch anything, I'd be alright.
HARRY.
Oh God. I just *had* to get out of there.
Seamus kept *groping* me. In a public place! With my two best friends across the table! That boy has absolutely no shame.
Anyway, I was just washing my hands in the sink and trying to linger as long as possible in there to get away from Seamus when the door suddenly banged open and a figure was framed in the doorway.
I jumped about ten feet in the air, obviously thinking it was Seamus. It was just like him to come barging in here and try to get me into one of the stalls. But it wasn't. It was Malfoy. Wearing this black coat and hat that looked rather... nice on him, and an angry expression on his face. God, he really makes me nervous sometimes. After that... Kissing Incident, I don't know how to act around him. He glanced at me and then went over to the sink, and began coolly washing his hands.
DRACO.
I was still very, *very* angry at the whole Finnegan-touching-Harry-at-the- table thing. Too angry, in fact, to *not* start berating Harry about it.
"So, here with that tart Finnegan, Potter?" I sneered. "How *sweet.* When's the wedding, may I ask?"
He's scowling. "Shut up, Malfoy," he snaps. "And Seamus isn't a tart. Well...perhaps he is...but only slightly! And at least he's a nice person!"
This was too much. "NICE PERSON??!" I exploded. "He's hyperactive, with no idea how to act in a public place, and to top it off, no fashion sense!! You should be *ashamed* of yourself!"
Harry stared at me with a puzzled expression. "Why is your eye twitching like that?" he asked curiously.
I clapped a hand over my eye and scowled at him. Now, although Harry is very naïve and pretty clueless most of the time, he's not stupid. Suddenly a light dawned in his eyes.
"Ohhh," he breathed. "You're *jealous,* aren't you?"
"What?! No I'm NOT!" I splutter.
"You really, *really* are, Malfoy."
"No I am NOT!"
"This conversation sounds familiar, doesn't it? Stop denying it! You kissed me, and you denied it. Now you're jealous, and you're denying it. You really have issues, Malfoy," Harry finished with a flourish.
I stared at him. I was so pissed off before, that 'Ain't No Sunshine' hadn't started playing. Now it did. And there was Harry, looking positively gorgeous in a dingy old bathroom in the back of a pub.
"Shut *up,* Potter," I muttered. I started walking up to him slowly, gradually backing him up against the wall. I noticed with satisfaction that we were almost exactly the same height.
Harry got an apprehensive, flustered and yes, gorgeous expression on his face as he felt his back hit the wall. "Malfoy, what *are* you doing?" he spluttered.
"I said, shut UP, Potter," I muttered. Harry made a sort of startled 'meep' noise as I pressed my body against his, staring into his face. I slowly brought a hand up and pushed his hair out of his eyes before bringing my hand down and stroking his lips and cheek with my thumb. I felt a surge of triumph as his breathing hitched slightly, and then sped up. If it's one thing I know, it's seduction techniques. Come *on.* I'm a *Malfoy,* for fuck's sake! At least the name is good for *something!*
I brought my face closer to his, one hand in his hair. Our lips were almost touching, our breaths melding together. Harry's eyes flickered shut; he was obviously expecting a kiss. I paused, looking at him...
Before stepping away.
Harry looked stunned as he opened his eyes and stared at me. He looked even *more* shocked when I muttered, "I'm sorry," and fled the room.
I couldn't go through with it. I just couldn't. Not because I didn't want to- I never wanted to so much before- but because it *does* mean so much to me. God, I can't believe I'm saying this. I can't *believe* I said *sorry* to Harry! Malfoy's *never* apologise to *anyone!* EVER!
The truth is, it meant so much to me that I wanted it.... God, this is embarrassing- I wanted it to be *right.* Not a word very common to the Malfoy dictionary, is it? I wanted it to be *special.* I didn't want to kiss Harry properly for the first time in a dingy, grotty toilet. It would *cheapen* him, somehow. And Harry deserves the best.
But am *I* the one to give it to him?
Oh my GOD.
I'm developing *morals.*
And *now* I'm feeling... *guilty.* I'm experiencing feelings of actual GUILT!
Could things *get* any worse?!
***
Get in there! Go on, Draco!
This was the chapter where we discovered: Seamus isn't completely thick, Hermione isn't *completely* all-knowing, and Draco isn't quite as stealthy as he thinks... bless him!
And who can *just* imagine Draco being a germ freak and his eye twitching when he gets stressed? ( Hee hee...
My longest chapter ever! Well, it'll have to last for a bit- I *really* need to finish the new chapter of Interesting Times. Please review! Thanks m'dears!
Thank-you all for reviewing also. And now- onwards!
DRACO.
I expect you heard the news.
Harry... Harry's going to- going to... no, I just can't say it. Alright. I'll try. Harry is going to go on a *date* with that... that *thing.* The little... little fucking hyperactive *slut* who's always running around so happy, flirting and smiling at Harry as if it was *natural* or something!
I didn't believe it at first. That Harry would agree to go *anywhere* with that sandy-haired, immature little twerp is almost beyond my comprehension. He's not even good-looking! Well... perhaps he is. But I'm about a thousand times better than him! Why did Harry agree to it? WHY??!
Alright, honestly I know the answer. It's because Finnegan isn't *mean* to him.
But *still...!!*
It was all over the school by dawn. Several girls from the younger years were actually *crying.* Hufflepuffs, mostly, who have that naïve and sickeningly romantic idea that Date= Marriage and True Love for Evermore.
Ha!
I managed to get the truth out of a First Year Ravenclaw, (and no- I didn't actually carry *out* any of my threats- I don't want to get expelled, do I?) that apparently Finnegan *tricked* Harry into agreeing to it, and then refused to let him back out. This sounds rather plausible, because firstly, Harry is so trusting it's no trouble to make him agree to anything, and secondly, Harry being *Harry* and the ever-noble Gryffindor that he is, would not even *think* of backing out of something he'd said he'd do.
Breakfast lightened my spirits considerably. Harry came in late, and stopped dead when everyone went silent and stared at him. Then when he clocked Finnegan sitting at the table he got a desperate look in his eye and sat as far away from him as possible. Then, when Seamus moved closer to him and tried to not-so-subtle-ly grope him Harry tried to push him off every time and, when that didn't work, fled from the room.
Heh heh heh. Not so cocky now, eh Finnegan? Die you bastard! DIE!!!
I've already started on my very comprehensive list of 101 Ways to Kill Seamus Finnegan. However, the rate it's going, I'll probably have to change it to 1001 Ways. I've started out with the usual ones- such as burn him in a cauldron of boiling oil, and throw him into a pit of snakes before making him eat his own eyeballs. I'm starting to move on to the *less* tame ones now.
HERMIONE.
I was just sitting down to a nice relaxing session with 'Hogwarts: A History' when Ron appeared at my side.
"'Mione," he muttered, "we need help. Our dormitory- NOW."
I was about to remind him that I wasn't really *allowed* in his dormitory, but one look at his face told me not to. He looked distinctly stressed.
I followed him up to the room, and when I entered it I gasped.
Now, I know boys aren't renowned for their tidiness, but this was simply ridiculous. Clothes of every colour, size and description were strewn absolutely everywhere, from lying crumpled on the floor to hanging over the curtain rails. In the middle of this bomb sight sat Harry, looking very glum.
"What on *earth...*" I said.
"We're trying to pick something out for Harry to wear in Hogsmeade, where Harry obviously wants to put Seamus off him," explained Ron. His voice took on an hysterical quality as he went on, "but nothing Harry tries on looks bad, 'Mione! NOTHING! Even my maroon jumper! How could this *be?!*"
"I really need your help, 'Mione," said Harry, looking quite desperate.
I sighed. My two boys were *always* getting into these sorts of situations, and I *always* had to help them!
"Right," I said, sitting gingerly on a clothes-covered bed. Ron sat beside me. "I assume you've narrowed down the choices. Let's start."
"Well," said Harry, holding up a grey T-shirt, "this is my oldest piece of clothing. I've had it for about ten years and it doesn't fit me. Here- let me just put it on..."
Then Harry took off the blue shirt he had on. Couldn't he have *warned* me?? I may be his surrogate sister, but *still...!* I let out a small whimper.
"'Mione?" said Ron incredulously, "did you just... *squeak?!*"
"No!" I yelped. Harry had the grey T-shirt on now- thank GOD.
I looked at it for a few seconds. Then Ron and I exchanged glances.
"Well, what do you reckon?" said Harry rather awkwardly.
"Um... it's rather *tight* Harry, isn't it?" I managed to get out.
Harry looked down at it. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Seamus would probably *like* that..."
He pulled it off again. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop *another* squeak escaping. Ron was glaring at me. Well, it wasn't my fault! Ron was used to it- he saw Harry in a state of undress every *day!* Probably just getting out of the shower as well.... oh dear. I shouldn't really have thought that. I felt my face heat up as I pulled my hand away from my mouth and smiled weakly at Ron. I then tried to look anywhere but at Harry. Ron wasn't looking too pleased, to say the least.
Harry was now doing up the buttons on a black shirt. This meant I could see his chest for twice as long as usual. Oh dear *Lord.*
The shirt didn't have the desired effect of looking bad. Oh hell. Ron was right. *Nothing* looked bad on Harry. Most people have at least one colour that they shouldn't wear, that makes them look less than their best. But Harry... pale colours looked nice. Rich colours looked nice. Black made his skin stand out even more. And green *definitely* brought out the colour of his eyes.
"Harry," I said after a while, "for the first time ever, Ron is completely right-" ("Hey!" said Ron) "- nothing can look bad on you." When Harry began to protest, I added, "no *really.* Just wear what you want- it won't make a difference."
Harry shrugged and began to take off the white T-shirt he had on.
"For God's sake!" I shrieked. "Harry, can you *please* keep your clothes *on?!*"
I fled from the room.
DRACO.
It's... Saturday. And you know what that means. Harry Potter and Seamus Finnegan are going out. On a *date.*
What they *don't* know is that of course I shall be spying on them every step of the way.
Well, what did you expect? I didn't leave Harry to be mauled by the likes of Blaise Zabini and I *certainly* won't let *that* little slut get his claws into him!
Before I did this, of course, I had to sort out my Spying clothes. Just because it's an undercover operation doesn't mean that the fashion side of things is allowed to get into disarray. Just *who* exactly do you think I am?
I'd gone to the library the day before and got out this Muggle book by this bloke called Chandler or something. Now, *his* private eye wore this sort of coat and some kind of weird hat. I decided to follow suit. I transfigured some of my clothes into these said items, but of course made them black, and not that dreadful brown colour like in the pictures. Some people have *no* sense of style. *Honestly.*
At precisely 10.04 am I was outside the Gryffindor Common Room, as a bouncy Seamus Finnegan and a much more reluctant Harry Potter came out of the Portrait Hole. They proceeded down the hallway. I was just about to follow them when a shifty-looking Weasel and Granger stepped out of the Common Room as well, staring at the backs of Harry and Finnegan. They had obviously had the same idea as me. Damn. I just *love* to be original. Seems I can't be today.
After they had walked down the hallway as well, I proceeded to follow them.
HERMIONE.
It was at about one in the afternoon when we finally spotted him.
Ron and I were just strolling through Hogsmeade, trying to look like we were doing nothing but actually following Harry and Seamus at a discreet distance as Harry had *begged* us to. Harry looked like he wasn't having *too* terrible a time, however. He laughed at a few things Seamus said.
As we passed Honeyduke's, Ron looked behind him with a puzzled expression.
"'Mione," he said, "is it just me, or is someone following us?"
I looked around quickly, to see a piece of black material whip round a corner.
We proceeded to walk on, but I was now more than aware of the person behind us. We stopped, feigning interest in a shop display, and I was able to see who it was in the shiny glass of the window.
"Ron," I hissed, "is that... *Malfoy?!*"
"Blimey, I *think* so," Ron whispered back, "but what is he *wearing?!*"
Ron was completely right. As Malfoy hid behind walls and ducked behind useful bits of architecture on the street, obviously thinking he was being *very* discreet, I saw his clothes. It seemed he was wearing a black trench cloak and... a *trilby.*
They rather suited him, in a way. And at least he wasn't tapping for once.
"Just ignore him," I said. My eyes strayed over to Seamus and Harry, who were about to enter The Three Broomsticks. "Quick! They're getting away!" I hissed. We ran after them.
DRACO.
When I entered the pub, Harry and Finnegan were sitting at a table in the corner, both clutching Butterbeers. Weasley and Granger were sitting quite close to them, obviously trying not to be noticed. Ha! They were doing a terrible job. They should learn from a pro, like *me.*
HERMIONE.
Malfoy sat in a darkened corner of the room, not too far from us. I then noticed he had donned sunglasses and was looking over the top of his copy of the Daily Prophet at us, before quickly ducking his head again.
Ron was getting completely freaked out. He kept snatching glances at Malfoy with an incredulous expression on his face. "What the *hell* is he *doing?*" he kept whispering.
I shook my head. Then it hit me. It was *obvious.* Malfoy's tapping, the twitches, the muttering to himself, the following us around, could only mean one thing.
Draco Malfoy was having a nervous breakdown. At 16.
I didn't have time to expand on this thought when Seamus suddenly got up and approached our table.
"Ah, don't look so guilty," he said to us, "I've known you were there all day. You might as well come and join us."
We sheepishly picked up out tankards and followed Seamus over to Harry.
DRACO.
Finnegan was touching Harry.
He was fucking *touching* him!!
Oh, I knew his ploy to invite Weasley and Granger over to his table was just as cover. Now he thought he had an *excuse* to lean up against Harry. I was willing to kill Seamus with only Way No. 223. Now he's *really* earned Way No. 361.
Suddenly Harry gave a little yelp and jumped three feet into the air.
That little bastard was touching him up under the table! Right I'll kill him, AND he'd earned Way No. 442 now. *No* holds barred...
Suddenly Harry jumps up from the table and *races* for the toilet.
Now, usually I don't go into public conveniences. The thought of hundreds of people using the same conveniences makes me shudder, actually. All those thousands of bacteria absolutely *everywhere...* urgh!
But... *Harry* was in there. *Alone.*
As long as I didn't touch anything, I'd be alright.
HARRY.
Oh God. I just *had* to get out of there.
Seamus kept *groping* me. In a public place! With my two best friends across the table! That boy has absolutely no shame.
Anyway, I was just washing my hands in the sink and trying to linger as long as possible in there to get away from Seamus when the door suddenly banged open and a figure was framed in the doorway.
I jumped about ten feet in the air, obviously thinking it was Seamus. It was just like him to come barging in here and try to get me into one of the stalls. But it wasn't. It was Malfoy. Wearing this black coat and hat that looked rather... nice on him, and an angry expression on his face. God, he really makes me nervous sometimes. After that... Kissing Incident, I don't know how to act around him. He glanced at me and then went over to the sink, and began coolly washing his hands.
DRACO.
I was still very, *very* angry at the whole Finnegan-touching-Harry-at-the- table thing. Too angry, in fact, to *not* start berating Harry about it.
"So, here with that tart Finnegan, Potter?" I sneered. "How *sweet.* When's the wedding, may I ask?"
He's scowling. "Shut up, Malfoy," he snaps. "And Seamus isn't a tart. Well...perhaps he is...but only slightly! And at least he's a nice person!"
This was too much. "NICE PERSON??!" I exploded. "He's hyperactive, with no idea how to act in a public place, and to top it off, no fashion sense!! You should be *ashamed* of yourself!"
Harry stared at me with a puzzled expression. "Why is your eye twitching like that?" he asked curiously.
I clapped a hand over my eye and scowled at him. Now, although Harry is very naïve and pretty clueless most of the time, he's not stupid. Suddenly a light dawned in his eyes.
"Ohhh," he breathed. "You're *jealous,* aren't you?"
"What?! No I'm NOT!" I splutter.
"You really, *really* are, Malfoy."
"No I am NOT!"
"This conversation sounds familiar, doesn't it? Stop denying it! You kissed me, and you denied it. Now you're jealous, and you're denying it. You really have issues, Malfoy," Harry finished with a flourish.
I stared at him. I was so pissed off before, that 'Ain't No Sunshine' hadn't started playing. Now it did. And there was Harry, looking positively gorgeous in a dingy old bathroom in the back of a pub.
"Shut *up,* Potter," I muttered. I started walking up to him slowly, gradually backing him up against the wall. I noticed with satisfaction that we were almost exactly the same height.
Harry got an apprehensive, flustered and yes, gorgeous expression on his face as he felt his back hit the wall. "Malfoy, what *are* you doing?" he spluttered.
"I said, shut UP, Potter," I muttered. Harry made a sort of startled 'meep' noise as I pressed my body against his, staring into his face. I slowly brought a hand up and pushed his hair out of his eyes before bringing my hand down and stroking his lips and cheek with my thumb. I felt a surge of triumph as his breathing hitched slightly, and then sped up. If it's one thing I know, it's seduction techniques. Come *on.* I'm a *Malfoy,* for fuck's sake! At least the name is good for *something!*
I brought my face closer to his, one hand in his hair. Our lips were almost touching, our breaths melding together. Harry's eyes flickered shut; he was obviously expecting a kiss. I paused, looking at him...
Before stepping away.
Harry looked stunned as he opened his eyes and stared at me. He looked even *more* shocked when I muttered, "I'm sorry," and fled the room.
I couldn't go through with it. I just couldn't. Not because I didn't want to- I never wanted to so much before- but because it *does* mean so much to me. God, I can't believe I'm saying this. I can't *believe* I said *sorry* to Harry! Malfoy's *never* apologise to *anyone!* EVER!
The truth is, it meant so much to me that I wanted it.... God, this is embarrassing- I wanted it to be *right.* Not a word very common to the Malfoy dictionary, is it? I wanted it to be *special.* I didn't want to kiss Harry properly for the first time in a dingy, grotty toilet. It would *cheapen* him, somehow. And Harry deserves the best.
But am *I* the one to give it to him?
Oh my GOD.
I'm developing *morals.*
And *now* I'm feeling... *guilty.* I'm experiencing feelings of actual GUILT!
Could things *get* any worse?!
***
Get in there! Go on, Draco!
This was the chapter where we discovered: Seamus isn't completely thick, Hermione isn't *completely* all-knowing, and Draco isn't quite as stealthy as he thinks... bless him!
And who can *just* imagine Draco being a germ freak and his eye twitching when he gets stressed? ( Hee hee...
My longest chapter ever! Well, it'll have to last for a bit- I *really* need to finish the new chapter of Interesting Times. Please review! Thanks m'dears!