Harry Potter
SyDra
Title: New Girl on the Block: Part 3
Summary: Same as before...feelings between Draco and Mychy increase...LOL.
Rating: R
Disclaimers: Oops-last time I forgot to mention that Miwa Robinson was mine, didn't I? Sorry. Anyway, let's read, shall we?
Part 3
As Mychy lay in bed that night, she was unable to fall asleep. She tried closing her eyes and thinking of [new fanfics] to write, and she tried staring into space. Neither seemed to work, and she didn't feel like accidentally setting the room on fire by trying to read by candlelight. Something not herself and not her espresso was keeping her wake...and she was pretty sure it was a SOMEONE. Suddenly, a soft, whispering noise came from the stone floor, like a piece of cloth being dragged along on it. She sat up, straining her eyes to see what it was. At first she saw nothing, but then-
-A person materialized in front of her, and a silvery, silky cloak fell to the floor. It was Harry. She nearly gasped.
"What in the hell..." she mouthed, gaping. Harry placed a forefinger on his lips, motioning for her not to speak.
"I want to show you something." He whispered.
"But..." she protested, her voice barely audible in the silent room.
"Are...are you NAKED under there?" Harry finished her sentence for her.
"Erm..."
"I'll take that as a yes," Harry replied, turning around respectfully. Mychy glowered.
"And what, exactly, do you want to show me? Is it worth making me get out of bed for, when I was sleeping quite peacefully?" Mychy replied reproachfully.
"You weren't sleeping," Harry defended. "And yes, I'm pretty sure that you'll want to see this. Before anyone else does, that is."
"Just tell me what it is?" Mychy asked, finally pulling on a pair of slippers as a last touch to her bellbottoms and long tee shirt.
"No, it's better if you see it," said Harry, turning around and grabbing her hand. When they went out of the door to the common room, something occurred to Mychy.
"Who did you get the password from?" she asked suspiciously.
"I heard it from one of your prefects. I have ears, you know, and not everyone whispers." They turned a corner, and Mychy found herself standing beside Harry in front of the door to the Transfiguration classroom.
"Alohomora," Harry whispered, tapping his wand on the door handle. The door swung open, unlocked, and Harry then muttered "Lumos," lighting his wand tip. Mychy shivered slightly, wishing she'd brought her own wand. It was then that Harry began crawling around on the floor on his hands knees.
"What are you doing?" Mychy whispered incredulously, simultaneously turning her head to make sure Filch wasn't coming.
"Well, the thing I wanted to show you, it's on the floor here somewhere, and I didn't dare move it, in case someone else saw it," Harry explained, and then stood up, holding a torn piece of parchment. Shining his wand light on it, Mychy saw the picture. It was a person, and she identified it as the sunspots in her eyes faded. It was HER. Again, she nearly gasped.
"Who the heck would draw me? And so well, to boot?"
"Watch and learn," said Harry, and tapped his wand against the paper, saying, "Revelo." Suddenly, as if scrawled by an invisible hand, a name appeared-Draco Malfoy. Mychy blushed, and suddenly felt the urge to giggle.
"Draco was-was-drawing me?" She asked, amid quiet laughter.
"Apparently so."
"There's no more writing, by any chance?"
"Nope." Mychy's heart fell. Well, what could she expect? A mushy diary entry? And when Draco had only known her for two days? But, all the same, the results were disappointing. Leaving Harry in the room without a word of goodbye or thanks, she strode out the open door and walked quickly-VERY quickly-back to her dorm room.
Mychy awoke the next morning to greet her pounding headache and mussed up, damp hair still wet from the showers. She moaned, not bothering to charm the snarls out of her hair. She found herself still dressed in her clothes from last night's escapade with Harry, and didn't bother to change them as she struggled clumsily into her black school robes. And then, she reached into her chest for a muggle headache-cure.
"Ah, Excedrin makes the world go 'round," she muttered vaguely, popping two pills into her mouth with a glass of cold water. Sliding into her favorite platform Filas, she marched groggily down the stairs, out of the common room and to the Great Hall.
As she fell into a seat between Peter Wickersham and Padma Patil, Peter greeted her.
"Hey, Mych, you don't look so hot this morning," said Peter in a fake, chipper voice.
"Shut up," Mychy mumbled, letting her face fall onto her empty plate in feigned exhausted-ness. Peter chuckled, and went back to his buttered toast, munching happily.
Divination, it turned out, was not much better than waking up. Unfortunately, today Mychy and Draco had been assigned to the much-wanted real fire for fire omens, and the stifling heat and perfumes made Mychy want to conk out, on top of her new headache. When Draco pulled his arms out of the fire, peeling off the fireproof leather gloves, Mychy groaned.
"Aww, damn-is it my turn?" She muttered sleepily.
"Apparently so," Draco replied, handing her the gloves. Mychy shoved them on her hands, and reached into the fire. She perspirated with the heat, the sweat running in tiny beads down her slightly pink face. At first, she only felt dizzy, but as the heat intensified, the fire seemed to surround her, and to envelope her-
She blacked out. Later, she was sorry she had missed the moment, because she woke suddenly, finding her head on someone's lap, someone who was shouting defensively,
"It wasn't me! I had nothing to do with this!" Mychy raised her head, her blonde hair hanging in strands across her face. She brushed them out of the way, and then reached back into the fire, completely oblivious to the fact that nearly everyone in the classroom was staring at her.
No other chaotic events happened between the blackout and the end of class, until Mychy found herself so tired, she was unable to walk down flights of stairs without the assistance of an arm. Draco luckily volunteered his own, so Mychy began a slow, clumsy, weaving journey to the Great Hall, her head fairly pounding. Still, nothing strange happened, until-
"Ow! Fuck it, that HURT!" She was lying in a heap at the bottom of a wide stairway, against a wall. Draco rushed forward, worried, and feeling slightly guilty that he hadn't been paying attention to his backpack, which had swung around and knocked Mychy down the stairs.
"Are you okay?" he asked, squatting down beside her. Mychy was definitely more delicate than she looked, he thought. But to his surprise, she wasn't crying, or even rubbing herself where she'd been hit. She was glaring at him, her kind blue eyes now flaming.
"Just look at you," she muttered. "You come rushing toward me, worried, and I can see that you think I am an incompetent klutz, a delicate fool. Well, I'm not, for your information. I don't even feel the pain," she lied, biting back a cry at the sting of where the rough stone had bit into her back.
"Sorry about my backpack," he mumbled, embarrassed, as she voiced what had been on his mind.
"Forget your backpack. Feel like helping me up?" She forced a smile, and he stood, grabbing her outstretched hand and pulling her to her feet. "Thanks," she said, and brushed her robes off, and then picked up her backpack. "And I think I can walk on my own." She strode off, weaving rather drunkenly through the corridors, Draco trailing after her.
"Wait-you dropped some..." he stopped, looking disconcertedly at a piece of parchment.
To his surprise, Mychy cracked up. "I think you dropped that just yesterday," she corrected, giggling. Draco blushed a fierce crimson, and Mychy's grin got a bit wider. "You drew that, didn't you, Draco. Yesterday in Transfiguration, you drew that portrait of me. Do you feel like explaining?" He sighed.
"Yeah, I drew that-what's it to you?"
"Hey, you drew me, I get an explanation." Her eyes twinkled.
"Well, I was bored."
"You're lying. Really-why me? You could've drawn Pansy, or someone, but you didn't."
"I...I don't know what to say..." Flustered, Draco ran a trembling hand through his silvery-blond hair. Suddenly, an idea dawned upon Mychy. Well, she could see he liked her, and, why not admit it-she liked him, too. So...why not...it was the perfect time, anyway...
"Then say you'll go out with me."
TO BE CONTINUED...
SyDra
Title: New Girl on the Block: Part 3
Summary: Same as before...feelings between Draco and Mychy increase...LOL.
Rating: R
Disclaimers: Oops-last time I forgot to mention that Miwa Robinson was mine, didn't I? Sorry. Anyway, let's read, shall we?
Part 3
As Mychy lay in bed that night, she was unable to fall asleep. She tried closing her eyes and thinking of [new fanfics] to write, and she tried staring into space. Neither seemed to work, and she didn't feel like accidentally setting the room on fire by trying to read by candlelight. Something not herself and not her espresso was keeping her wake...and she was pretty sure it was a SOMEONE. Suddenly, a soft, whispering noise came from the stone floor, like a piece of cloth being dragged along on it. She sat up, straining her eyes to see what it was. At first she saw nothing, but then-
-A person materialized in front of her, and a silvery, silky cloak fell to the floor. It was Harry. She nearly gasped.
"What in the hell..." she mouthed, gaping. Harry placed a forefinger on his lips, motioning for her not to speak.
"I want to show you something." He whispered.
"But..." she protested, her voice barely audible in the silent room.
"Are...are you NAKED under there?" Harry finished her sentence for her.
"Erm..."
"I'll take that as a yes," Harry replied, turning around respectfully. Mychy glowered.
"And what, exactly, do you want to show me? Is it worth making me get out of bed for, when I was sleeping quite peacefully?" Mychy replied reproachfully.
"You weren't sleeping," Harry defended. "And yes, I'm pretty sure that you'll want to see this. Before anyone else does, that is."
"Just tell me what it is?" Mychy asked, finally pulling on a pair of slippers as a last touch to her bellbottoms and long tee shirt.
"No, it's better if you see it," said Harry, turning around and grabbing her hand. When they went out of the door to the common room, something occurred to Mychy.
"Who did you get the password from?" she asked suspiciously.
"I heard it from one of your prefects. I have ears, you know, and not everyone whispers." They turned a corner, and Mychy found herself standing beside Harry in front of the door to the Transfiguration classroom.
"Alohomora," Harry whispered, tapping his wand on the door handle. The door swung open, unlocked, and Harry then muttered "Lumos," lighting his wand tip. Mychy shivered slightly, wishing she'd brought her own wand. It was then that Harry began crawling around on the floor on his hands knees.
"What are you doing?" Mychy whispered incredulously, simultaneously turning her head to make sure Filch wasn't coming.
"Well, the thing I wanted to show you, it's on the floor here somewhere, and I didn't dare move it, in case someone else saw it," Harry explained, and then stood up, holding a torn piece of parchment. Shining his wand light on it, Mychy saw the picture. It was a person, and she identified it as the sunspots in her eyes faded. It was HER. Again, she nearly gasped.
"Who the heck would draw me? And so well, to boot?"
"Watch and learn," said Harry, and tapped his wand against the paper, saying, "Revelo." Suddenly, as if scrawled by an invisible hand, a name appeared-Draco Malfoy. Mychy blushed, and suddenly felt the urge to giggle.
"Draco was-was-drawing me?" She asked, amid quiet laughter.
"Apparently so."
"There's no more writing, by any chance?"
"Nope." Mychy's heart fell. Well, what could she expect? A mushy diary entry? And when Draco had only known her for two days? But, all the same, the results were disappointing. Leaving Harry in the room without a word of goodbye or thanks, she strode out the open door and walked quickly-VERY quickly-back to her dorm room.
Mychy awoke the next morning to greet her pounding headache and mussed up, damp hair still wet from the showers. She moaned, not bothering to charm the snarls out of her hair. She found herself still dressed in her clothes from last night's escapade with Harry, and didn't bother to change them as she struggled clumsily into her black school robes. And then, she reached into her chest for a muggle headache-cure.
"Ah, Excedrin makes the world go 'round," she muttered vaguely, popping two pills into her mouth with a glass of cold water. Sliding into her favorite platform Filas, she marched groggily down the stairs, out of the common room and to the Great Hall.
As she fell into a seat between Peter Wickersham and Padma Patil, Peter greeted her.
"Hey, Mych, you don't look so hot this morning," said Peter in a fake, chipper voice.
"Shut up," Mychy mumbled, letting her face fall onto her empty plate in feigned exhausted-ness. Peter chuckled, and went back to his buttered toast, munching happily.
Divination, it turned out, was not much better than waking up. Unfortunately, today Mychy and Draco had been assigned to the much-wanted real fire for fire omens, and the stifling heat and perfumes made Mychy want to conk out, on top of her new headache. When Draco pulled his arms out of the fire, peeling off the fireproof leather gloves, Mychy groaned.
"Aww, damn-is it my turn?" She muttered sleepily.
"Apparently so," Draco replied, handing her the gloves. Mychy shoved them on her hands, and reached into the fire. She perspirated with the heat, the sweat running in tiny beads down her slightly pink face. At first, she only felt dizzy, but as the heat intensified, the fire seemed to surround her, and to envelope her-
She blacked out. Later, she was sorry she had missed the moment, because she woke suddenly, finding her head on someone's lap, someone who was shouting defensively,
"It wasn't me! I had nothing to do with this!" Mychy raised her head, her blonde hair hanging in strands across her face. She brushed them out of the way, and then reached back into the fire, completely oblivious to the fact that nearly everyone in the classroom was staring at her.
No other chaotic events happened between the blackout and the end of class, until Mychy found herself so tired, she was unable to walk down flights of stairs without the assistance of an arm. Draco luckily volunteered his own, so Mychy began a slow, clumsy, weaving journey to the Great Hall, her head fairly pounding. Still, nothing strange happened, until-
"Ow! Fuck it, that HURT!" She was lying in a heap at the bottom of a wide stairway, against a wall. Draco rushed forward, worried, and feeling slightly guilty that he hadn't been paying attention to his backpack, which had swung around and knocked Mychy down the stairs.
"Are you okay?" he asked, squatting down beside her. Mychy was definitely more delicate than she looked, he thought. But to his surprise, she wasn't crying, or even rubbing herself where she'd been hit. She was glaring at him, her kind blue eyes now flaming.
"Just look at you," she muttered. "You come rushing toward me, worried, and I can see that you think I am an incompetent klutz, a delicate fool. Well, I'm not, for your information. I don't even feel the pain," she lied, biting back a cry at the sting of where the rough stone had bit into her back.
"Sorry about my backpack," he mumbled, embarrassed, as she voiced what had been on his mind.
"Forget your backpack. Feel like helping me up?" She forced a smile, and he stood, grabbing her outstretched hand and pulling her to her feet. "Thanks," she said, and brushed her robes off, and then picked up her backpack. "And I think I can walk on my own." She strode off, weaving rather drunkenly through the corridors, Draco trailing after her.
"Wait-you dropped some..." he stopped, looking disconcertedly at a piece of parchment.
To his surprise, Mychy cracked up. "I think you dropped that just yesterday," she corrected, giggling. Draco blushed a fierce crimson, and Mychy's grin got a bit wider. "You drew that, didn't you, Draco. Yesterday in Transfiguration, you drew that portrait of me. Do you feel like explaining?" He sighed.
"Yeah, I drew that-what's it to you?"
"Hey, you drew me, I get an explanation." Her eyes twinkled.
"Well, I was bored."
"You're lying. Really-why me? You could've drawn Pansy, or someone, but you didn't."
"I...I don't know what to say..." Flustered, Draco ran a trembling hand through his silvery-blond hair. Suddenly, an idea dawned upon Mychy. Well, she could see he liked her, and, why not admit it-she liked him, too. So...why not...it was the perfect time, anyway...
"Then say you'll go out with me."
TO BE CONTINUED...