Completely Incomplete
By: *Squishy*Teddy*
Potion's class


Author's note: I didn't proof read it. I'm tired, it's a school night. If you see any mistakes, I didn't mean them. I plan on like..five more parts..yah, five! Well, I'm off.. Ta!

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The rest of the week went smoothly since the day everything went wrong. The school was gabbing and smirking in the Great Hall about the upcoming ball. The girls said they were going out tonight, after school, with the professors to one of the shops in Hogsmead. The boys were talking about Quidditch like usual. Everyone was psyched though, well, almost everyone.

Hermione tried to block out everyone at the Gryffindor table. In fact, she hadn't talked in the past week. Harry's gaze was on her, was he worried? He could've been. Her eyes were deep in a book. She hadn't been ask to go to the Ball. All and all, it was a terrible week for the Ravenclaw of Gryffindor. But, was the upcoming dance affecting someone else?

Draco Malfoy had been asked repeatedly by many girls, of many of the years, from all four houses to be his date to the Masquerade. He turned him down. Why you ask? He didn't want to. He might as well go by himself, or Pansy. Pansy was just a prop to him. A way out, an easy score. Really, she was just like talking to a brick wall.

By now, only thing that mattered was who he danced with. Which was really impossible to know seeing they would all be under masks? For most of the girls in the school, he thought it was good. What a self-centered snot, huh?

The Ravenclaw table exploded with a cheer that told there was only one more day last. Harry poked Hermione in the back. She looked up at him, a coil of hair hanging over her eyes.
Her orbs of carmelly-goodness tried to show no resentment, but failed.

"What do you want, Harry? I'm in a very interesting part of my book," She said, smoothly, trying not to sound hastily. Harry turned her book towards her. It was entitled "The Muggle screwdriver."

"That's interesting?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"For you information, Mr. Potter. It is very educating and logical. I never knew a Phillips screwdriver could be so intriguing from a wizards point of view," Her tone was in her know-it-all type of matter. Harry reached forward to move the coil out of her eye, her hand responded with a quick, non-hurting-expecting-to-hurt slap.

He put his arms down as he crossed them, "It's just a screwdriver!" his voice was hollow and hurt. His friend, a girl he loved, slapped his hand down. Why should she be mad? He was just going to the ball with Cho. She would've said no if he even asked her. Wouldm't've she?

Hermione stood up, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff table now looking at the two as if they were insane. This, though, did not stop the brown-eyed girl from bursting out, making the rest of the Great Hall looking at her. "And Cho is just a slut! but you don't see me complaining, do you?"

She turned quickly on her toes and stormed out of the Great Hall before the professor's could stop her. Draco's face twinged a bit, revealing a hidden smile. Did that girl really have enough gull to come to Potion's class after the outburst?

Potion's class rolled around soon after lunch. The Slytherin's were seated as the bell rang, as were the Gryffindor's, well, except Neville who was chasing his frog around the class room.

Snape stormed into the room, from his office being off the dungeon class room. He looked at Neville as he slapped his wand against the blackboard. Neville, quite scared, jumped up and into his seat, looking rather terrified.

"As you may know, Voldemort is back to power," Snape's dung beetle eyes were on Harry, "this calls for stronger ties to the School. You are the future generation of Voldemort's havoc, You may have to stop him. As of this, Headmaster Dumbledore calls in all classes a segregation of the houses. Yes, even the rivals of Gryffindor and Slytherin. All the Teachers have organized a seating chart," There were many moans and groans from both the Slytherin side and Gryffindor side.

"Everyone, stand up, you are about to be matched with a new table partner," Snape said, as the class stood up moving around to the side walls, carrying their stuff. Draco kept mumbling to himself "Anyone but Hermione, anyone...please." Little did he know, Hermione was thinking inwardly the same thing. She didn't want to be with that bigheaded twit.

"Potter, Parkinson!" He hit the table with his wand, as a groan sounded from both Harry and Pansy. This should be interesting, quite. They sat down at the first table. Pansy drumming her fingers and Harry, looking pleadingly at Ron.

"Ron and Crabbe!" Snape's voice sounded again. Crabbe headed to the table, no moaning or complaining, while Ron was needing a little extra persuasion from Lavender, who was waving her hand ferociously.

It went on and on, Neville and Goyle. Lavender and Millicent. Parvarti and the stinky boy in the corner no one talked to. Finally, the final two were left standing. Hermione and Draco. Granger raised her hand, while Draco blurted out.

"I object! I don't want to work with her! She's so--" Snape waved him off and ignored Hermione's hand.

"Sit down! We have a potion to do! Whether you like it or not, Mr. Malfoy. This is how it will be," Snape sounded at his favourite student. Hermione moved reluctantly to the table near the back of the room. Draco strolled down, sitting down. She sit down next to him, as a sorry look came from Harry and Ron.

Snape began going on about the potion they were doing. Hermione, always prepared, had her quill and parchment out copying it down in a black ink which seemed to have a stream of red in it. Draco watched her intently, leaning forward. His listening skills have never been good, this class was no exception.

When Snape was done, he turned to the class. "The ingredients you need are on the table. You may get started," He said, walking past Draco, patting his back.

The muggle-born got up slowly, sulking to the table. Draco watched intently, his cold eyes watching the body of her reach and stretch for the ingredients. It was very (for lack of a better word) arousing.

Pansy stopped at Draco as she passed him. She leaned on him, whispering in his ear. "So sorry, love. You got stuck with the Mudblood, maybe you can...curse her?" Draco straightened up at her touch. He hated her touch. It was so cold, so hateful. Much like his mother's and father's, much like..his.

"Don't call me love," He mumbled with hatred, "I'm not with you, and with you're weight on my shoulders, their going to break," he said as Granger walked back with the potion ingredients, watching Pansy take aback.

Pansy started walking again, mumbling to Hermione with a lust of disgust. "Watch it, Mudblood. He's mine, and he bites," she continued walking as Hermione raised and eyebrow, shivering. Her with Draco, that's beyond a miracle.

"Chop the eye of newt into halves, add them. Or is that to hard for you?" Hermione sat down, taking the meat of chicken, pealing the skin off.

"It's too hard, but I'll managed, Granger," he turned to the eye of newt, chopping it with the knife. Hermione's body shivered as she added the meat to cauldron, along with a Unicorn Hair, a blast-ended skewt scale, sending up the proper explosion of green smoke. She sat back down at the table.

"Pass me the knife, please, Malfoy," She said hautighly.

"Please? Why, Mudblood that's awful nice of you, but if you want it, get it yourself," Draco's voice was righteous, and bigheaded.

"But, your closer! It's right next to you!" She hollered at Draco, causing Harry, Ron, Crabbe and Goyle to turn there attention on them. Snape sat plainly at the front of the class, totally oblivious, as her graded papers.

"No," Draco said it blunt.

"Fine," Hermione said, leaning over Draco. Her fingers slipped around the sharp knife blade, pulling it towards her. It took Draco tons of motivation, not to look at her, leaning over his lap. He was a teenaged boy, after all.

She began to slice the last ingredient of the disintegration potion. Draco spotted red streaks crawl down her hand. Draco reached for her hand, absentmindedly, and pulled it away from the Poisson. Her warmth against his cold, felt good to both of them. Draco's eyes met her's. She quickly pulled away, gaining her *sanity*.

"I was cutting, what's wrong?" She didn't even notice her hand. Her fact-cluttered mind felt distant as new thoughts filled it of love, love for another person, not just books. Get a hold of yourself! He's Draco Malfoy! He's evil! He want's to kill Harry! He's trying to get you to tell secrets. She considered herself right, but it felt so good when he touched her.

"Your bleeding," Draco sounded concerned, but soon regained his resentful attitude, "I don't want you to poison the Poisson." She looked at her hand, while Malfoy watched her curls hang over your face.

"Sorry." She stood up, walking to a sink in the room, washing her hands, getting the running blood off.

Draco looked at his own hand, he saw Hermione's blood on it. It was a wonderful color. Different from his. He shook his head. She's a Mudblood! You're going to be the right hand of Voldemort! You can't let this...girl get in your way. He sighed, loving was out of the question, his fate was already decided by his own father. He didn't want to be a Death-Eater, he didn't want anything to do with Voldemort. He whipped his hand quickly on his pants, adding the Poisson as the bell rang.

"A roll of parchment of the uses for disintegrating potion. You are dismissed!" Snape yelled from his desk. Everyone scuttled out, but Draco. He was deep in thought. Ron, Harry and Hermione were the last to leave. Though, Harry and Hermione weren't talking.

"What's his problem?" Ron asked Hermione. She looked away.

"No Idea, we better get to diner," She continued to look at the wall, not paying attention to them as she headed out. Ron and Harry walked behind her, talking about Quidditch.

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After Diner, most of the girls headed out to Hogsmead. She was the only one who stayed back. Might as well go to the Library. She mumbled and headed through the cold, drafty halls to the library.

She set her stuff down at the table, heading to for a book. She had already finished her homework for the week. She scanned for a book she hadn't read, stopping on one with a cover of burgundy fabric. She didn't notice through the peek holes of the shelf, she was being watched by intense gray eyes. Eyes that belonged to only him, only Draco Malfoy.

She pulled on the book, walking around the shelf and write into him, dropping her book and falling back.

"Watch it, Mudblood!" He yelled at her. She looked up at him, rolling her eyes. Picking up the book, she headed towards her table. Her hand slipped into her book bag, pulling out her bronzed framed glasses, and sliding them on.

First years shuffled into the Library and sat down. Draco sat at a rounded table in the back of the library, watching her. He was thinking again, wonders never seize to they?

She could feel the cold eyes burrowing into her back. She got to her feet and turned around to face him, placing her hand on her hips.

"What? Do you want to make fun of me? Take your best shot, I've heard it all before," She pronounced as her Carmel eyes intensified.

"I was just thinking. And you haven't heard it all, I have a million more up my sleeve," He said, sliding back into his chair, watching her get mad.

"Screw you, Ferret-boy. You know you could actually do something good with your peanut-sized brain instead of making insults," She crossed her arms, turning around.

"So that's a Yes." Draco sounded, looking at the slanting ceiling. Though, she stayed turned around.

"A Yes to what?" She blinked, had he even asked a question?

"That you're going to the Masquerade with me," He smiled at her back, she began walking, grabbing her book bag.

"No," She ran a hand through her hair as Madame Prince checked out her book, walking out of the library. She heard Draco's feet walk behind her.

"So it's a no," he answered, catching up with her.

"No," She turned a corner, smiling that she was actually being followed, or even asked to do anything since Viktor Krum. Draco grabbed her shoulders and pushed her into a crevice of the wall.

"Well, what is it then, Mudblood," He was getting fed up with her little game, his aggravated personality returning. Hermione brought a hand to his face, slapping him. He took aback, looking at her. Her warmth was so nice. His coldness was likewise to her. "What was that for?"

"Don't call me a Mudblood, and it's a maybe, twit," She began to say.

"Ouu, one day, granger, you're going to get what's coming to," Draco announced. "And what is maybe supposed to mean?!"

"It means, I'm going to the ball by myself. If I run into you, I might take into consideration with dancing with you," She smiled, cockily. She was actually trying to piss him off, and he was enjoying it. She began to walk, Draco stayed where he was, yelling down the hall.

"Then I'll see you at the masquerade!"

"Whatever!" she didn't even turn around, for if she did, she'd be blushing a shade of crimson. This would be a very interesting dance, very interesting.