Harry Potter
SyDra
Title: New Girl on the Block: Part 5
Summary: Mychy finds that the whole school has a crush on her! Well, not exactly, but it sounds funny...LOL. Harry brood-age, and Mychy/Draco tension.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: You know the deal. *I need a word with Rowling...*
Part 5
In all his life, Harry found that, until now, he had never experienced insomnia. There's a first time for everything, he thought dismally as he lay awake for the third week in a row. Yes, and he knew exactly what caused the insomnia, too-it was Cho. He tried to convince himself that it was Cho. But he knew it wasn't...because the only face that seemed to occupy his thoughts lately was the tall, blue-eyed Mychy Carraway. The new girl on the block. Yes, that was what she was, really-the new girl on the block. No one in the school, except for maybe Crabbe and Goyle, seemed to resent her. It was as though she had managed to slip a little friendship potion into everyone's butter beer. Even Snape, though Harry felt inclined to giggle madly, didn't have any grudges against Mychy, her not being a Slytherin and all.
He sighed, feeling like all his sensibility had been turned to mush and all reality had dissipated. Really, he thought smacking himself mentally, you couldn't get much worse than this, Potter. Yeah, he sure did like her...he grinned goofily up at the ceiling. And by god, she was popular, which was a relief for him-no longer did crowds of drooling fans follow him everywhere. Instead, they seemed to have reverted to Mychy, the first years looking up to her widely-known Quidditch skills, the seventh year prefects looking down on her with pride as she proceeded to excel as a wonderful student in everything she did. Not to mention the throngs of boys anywhere close to her in age-they were, if anything, worse than the usual girly fan club that followed her around observing her to pick up on popularity-related details. The guys seriously left rivers of drool behind them, and a few of the dumber ones even tried asking her out, though it was now common knowledge that Mychy and Draco were going out. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say she actually enjoyed the attention.
But, just about a week ago, he'd been trailing her during a lunch break as a group of Hufflepuff girls proceeded to stalk her throughout the corridors. Mychy grinned and bore it until the giggling ditzes passed on. When they were out of earshot, she'd turned to Harry, screaming to no one in particular, "Ahhhhh! WHY CAN'T THEY JUST FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE, DAMN IT!" Harry had been rather taken aback.
"Why, you can't mean you're not taking pleasure in your limelight?"
Mychy grimaced. "Urgh, no."
"I would've thought you'd be used to it," Harry had said, still slightly confused.
"Dear god! Me? Hellllll, no! I've never been popular in my friggin' life! Please, you should've seen me at Huntington-I was like, poisonous or something. I once tried to talk to this guy I had liked, and you know what? He just gave me an acid look and walked off in the other direction."
"Poor you," Harry had sympathized-"I feel your pain. I was so unpopular before I came here, and then-BANG! I'm famous, and everyone wants my autograph. I still hate that stuff, to this day-damn little creeps," he'd added, which drew a laugh from Mychy.
"Well, I'm all for lunch. What do you say, see you at Care of Magical Creatures?"
"Sure. Hey-if you're ever feeling down, come talk to me." Harry remembered blushing right about then.
"Right." Mychy had grinned, and then punched him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "I wouldn't mind a psychiatrist now and then. Hey-thanks for understanding." Harry recounted her slow, lazy stroll, him watching her as he leant against the stone wall, transfixed.
Now, as Harry lay in bed, he wondered why he had told her to come talk to him, of all people. What would he say? 'I feel your pain?' Seriously! But it was a good excuse for him to talk to her. Like she'd really come crying to him anyway-when she had Draco to hold her in his arms? Face the reality, kid, he thought to himself. He let out a long yawn, and then turned over onto his side, trying to fall asleep, and trying to erase Mychy's face from his mind.
Halloween was coming up, and in the increasingly frosty afternoons, Hagrid could be seen using engorgement charms on his already enormous pumpkins. Ron and Harry could be seen in little corners of the Gryffindor common room late at night, cramming (for once!) for Snape's up-coming essay test on 'the importance of anecdotes and truth potions, and how they relate', whereas Fred and George Weasley could be seen in an opposite corner, trying out dangerous curses on the more unfortunate animal residents of Hogwarts. In the Slytherin common rooms, charmed invisible wires laced the twisting dorm staircases, tripping whoever came across the treacherous strings. Hufflepuff had a never-ending, assorted supply of wizard candies, including Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Acid Lollipops, and Honeydukes' Almond Chocolate Bars. In Ravenclaw, well, to say the least, their common room held many incredibly...frightening people. The entire House went around school that year masqueraded in various costumes, such as Merlin after one of his experimental spells, Insane House-Elves, Werewolves, a various number of Vampire Teeth, and the daring Mychy Carraway set the newest costume trend, probably the most horrifying one of all-Britney Spears.
Popping around random corridor corners were shrieking, giggling, excited Britney Spears incarnates, scaring students, grounds managers, and teachers alike. Professor Vector was among the first to be seen at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Illnesses with a cardiac arrest, and she was soon followed by Severus Snape, and Rubeus Hagrid.
But, Halloween was not the only thing people were excited about in Ravenclaw-Mychy, the genius Beater, had helped Ravenclaw cream Gryffindor in the first match of the Quidditch season. Coming up was the next match, to be against Hufflepuff-and the Ravenclaws had no doubts that they would win. Mychy appeared to be showing no signs of nervousness, as usual, and she wasn't nervous anyway. But she did practice harder, now that her fingers seemed to stiffen and freeze with dry cold weather. After all, she needed her hands for holding the bat, and what good was the bat if she couldn't hold it?
Luckily, though, she had found a limb-defrosting potion in an old, battered library book-thanks to Draco's help. Of course, they had done much more than look for books-(and thanks to Madam Pince's failing eyesight and hearing, they hadn't been seen or heard)-and Mychy thanked the Chemists who had invented pregnancy pills.
Now, however, Mychy started edging away from Draco whenever he was near-she didn't know why, but there was something about him that repulsed her. She was barely conscious of it, but it was there-the revulsion. She trembled under his touch-like she couldn't bear the feel of his hands, not as though they were lovers. Draco pursued her constantly-Mychy could tell he was gone in a bad way for her-she had the feeling he had not love for her, but instead physical attraction. This, she was conscious of, and it irritated her, like the tag in the neck of a tee shirt that has been hardened and curled. If a guy loved her, it should be because she looked good, but because of her personality. What had looks to do with a person?
Other than this, she would say she loved him with all her heart-but who would say this about Draco? Would he claim to love her? Or would he say he was going out with her because she was good-looking and popular?
This feeling had been hovering around for a few weeks, ever since she had admitted to Harry that she hated being popular. She kept wondering why she was reluctant to admit this to Draco-It could be because he might dump her for not being cool enough for him. She noticed that Draco often was prejudiced and icy towards other houses, especially Gryffindor and Hufflepuff-why shouldn't he be biased towards a Ravenclaw as well? With these negative questions flooding her mind, she decided to confront him the night before the Quidditch match.
"What?" Draco responded coldly.
"Erm...I wanted to ask you about something."
"Why?"
"Because, well...frankly, I'm concerned about your relationship with Mychy."
Draco laughed scornfully.
"Harry! You, of all people, decide to talk to me about my love life? Fuck off; go do your homework or something. I don't need to discuss my love life with such mud-blood loving scum as you."
"No-the reason I ask is.." Harry faltered, a little shy. Why the hell was he talking with Draco, anyway? The same Draco who supported Lord Voldemort, who laughed in the face of bravery, and who evaded the face of authority so rebelliously? The same Draco, who was without a doubt, his worst enemy, for more than one reason?
"Well, if you're going to talk at me, hurry up before I curse you." Draco toyed lazily with his wand, which stuck haphazardly out of his left pocket.
"Have you noticed how Mychy's been lately?"
"She's been screwing me a lot," Draco said sarcastically.
"And we both know the truth is: she hasn't. Maybe that one time in the library last week, don't ask how I know about that, and then, you came upon her like an animal of prey. She's been pretty distant lately, hasn't she?"
Draco sneered. "Is this any of your business? I have work to do, and I think for your insolence and your obtrusiveness, you need to go fuck off."
"No, answer me-has she been very open with you?"
"No," Draco answered slowly.
"And I suppose you care greatly that she should be comfortable in your relationship?"
"Is it any of your business what I think? Well, truthfully, why should I care? She can fend for herself just fine. She doesn't need a therapist." Draco scoffed. "Happy now?"
Harry's face darkened with anger. "No, you shallow bastard, I'm not! Hell, you wanted to go out with Mychy, and be her friend-you should fucking care about her feelings!" Immediately, Harry felt extremely stupid for trying to meddle with Mychy's affairs. What did he think he was doing? Draco, for once, was right-why was it any of his business, anyway?
"You silly, callow little kid," Draco laughed shaking his head. "Go occupy yourself elsewhere-go play with your little gang. Go fight a dark wizard. Wizard-killer!" Draco turned on his heel, unfortunately not hearing Harry's sharply indrawn breath. He nearly smashed into a girl. It was Mychy. Apparently she had heard every word; tears of pain and sadness were streaming down her pale face, and her gray blue eyes were filled with anger, cool and icy. Harry was conveniently around a couple of corners by then to save himself the embarrassment.
"I can't believe you..." Draco heard every syllable, even though Mychy's voice was barely above a whisper. Her heart wrenched apart, she turned in the opposite direction and ran.
TO BE CONTINUED...
SyDra
Title: New Girl on the Block: Part 5
Summary: Mychy finds that the whole school has a crush on her! Well, not exactly, but it sounds funny...LOL. Harry brood-age, and Mychy/Draco tension.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: You know the deal. *I need a word with Rowling...*
Part 5
In all his life, Harry found that, until now, he had never experienced insomnia. There's a first time for everything, he thought dismally as he lay awake for the third week in a row. Yes, and he knew exactly what caused the insomnia, too-it was Cho. He tried to convince himself that it was Cho. But he knew it wasn't...because the only face that seemed to occupy his thoughts lately was the tall, blue-eyed Mychy Carraway. The new girl on the block. Yes, that was what she was, really-the new girl on the block. No one in the school, except for maybe Crabbe and Goyle, seemed to resent her. It was as though she had managed to slip a little friendship potion into everyone's butter beer. Even Snape, though Harry felt inclined to giggle madly, didn't have any grudges against Mychy, her not being a Slytherin and all.
He sighed, feeling like all his sensibility had been turned to mush and all reality had dissipated. Really, he thought smacking himself mentally, you couldn't get much worse than this, Potter. Yeah, he sure did like her...he grinned goofily up at the ceiling. And by god, she was popular, which was a relief for him-no longer did crowds of drooling fans follow him everywhere. Instead, they seemed to have reverted to Mychy, the first years looking up to her widely-known Quidditch skills, the seventh year prefects looking down on her with pride as she proceeded to excel as a wonderful student in everything she did. Not to mention the throngs of boys anywhere close to her in age-they were, if anything, worse than the usual girly fan club that followed her around observing her to pick up on popularity-related details. The guys seriously left rivers of drool behind them, and a few of the dumber ones even tried asking her out, though it was now common knowledge that Mychy and Draco were going out. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say she actually enjoyed the attention.
But, just about a week ago, he'd been trailing her during a lunch break as a group of Hufflepuff girls proceeded to stalk her throughout the corridors. Mychy grinned and bore it until the giggling ditzes passed on. When they were out of earshot, she'd turned to Harry, screaming to no one in particular, "Ahhhhh! WHY CAN'T THEY JUST FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE, DAMN IT!" Harry had been rather taken aback.
"Why, you can't mean you're not taking pleasure in your limelight?"
Mychy grimaced. "Urgh, no."
"I would've thought you'd be used to it," Harry had said, still slightly confused.
"Dear god! Me? Hellllll, no! I've never been popular in my friggin' life! Please, you should've seen me at Huntington-I was like, poisonous or something. I once tried to talk to this guy I had liked, and you know what? He just gave me an acid look and walked off in the other direction."
"Poor you," Harry had sympathized-"I feel your pain. I was so unpopular before I came here, and then-BANG! I'm famous, and everyone wants my autograph. I still hate that stuff, to this day-damn little creeps," he'd added, which drew a laugh from Mychy.
"Well, I'm all for lunch. What do you say, see you at Care of Magical Creatures?"
"Sure. Hey-if you're ever feeling down, come talk to me." Harry remembered blushing right about then.
"Right." Mychy had grinned, and then punched him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "I wouldn't mind a psychiatrist now and then. Hey-thanks for understanding." Harry recounted her slow, lazy stroll, him watching her as he leant against the stone wall, transfixed.
Now, as Harry lay in bed, he wondered why he had told her to come talk to him, of all people. What would he say? 'I feel your pain?' Seriously! But it was a good excuse for him to talk to her. Like she'd really come crying to him anyway-when she had Draco to hold her in his arms? Face the reality, kid, he thought to himself. He let out a long yawn, and then turned over onto his side, trying to fall asleep, and trying to erase Mychy's face from his mind.
Halloween was coming up, and in the increasingly frosty afternoons, Hagrid could be seen using engorgement charms on his already enormous pumpkins. Ron and Harry could be seen in little corners of the Gryffindor common room late at night, cramming (for once!) for Snape's up-coming essay test on 'the importance of anecdotes and truth potions, and how they relate', whereas Fred and George Weasley could be seen in an opposite corner, trying out dangerous curses on the more unfortunate animal residents of Hogwarts. In the Slytherin common rooms, charmed invisible wires laced the twisting dorm staircases, tripping whoever came across the treacherous strings. Hufflepuff had a never-ending, assorted supply of wizard candies, including Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Acid Lollipops, and Honeydukes' Almond Chocolate Bars. In Ravenclaw, well, to say the least, their common room held many incredibly...frightening people. The entire House went around school that year masqueraded in various costumes, such as Merlin after one of his experimental spells, Insane House-Elves, Werewolves, a various number of Vampire Teeth, and the daring Mychy Carraway set the newest costume trend, probably the most horrifying one of all-Britney Spears.
Popping around random corridor corners were shrieking, giggling, excited Britney Spears incarnates, scaring students, grounds managers, and teachers alike. Professor Vector was among the first to be seen at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Illnesses with a cardiac arrest, and she was soon followed by Severus Snape, and Rubeus Hagrid.
But, Halloween was not the only thing people were excited about in Ravenclaw-Mychy, the genius Beater, had helped Ravenclaw cream Gryffindor in the first match of the Quidditch season. Coming up was the next match, to be against Hufflepuff-and the Ravenclaws had no doubts that they would win. Mychy appeared to be showing no signs of nervousness, as usual, and she wasn't nervous anyway. But she did practice harder, now that her fingers seemed to stiffen and freeze with dry cold weather. After all, she needed her hands for holding the bat, and what good was the bat if she couldn't hold it?
Luckily, though, she had found a limb-defrosting potion in an old, battered library book-thanks to Draco's help. Of course, they had done much more than look for books-(and thanks to Madam Pince's failing eyesight and hearing, they hadn't been seen or heard)-and Mychy thanked the Chemists who had invented pregnancy pills.
Now, however, Mychy started edging away from Draco whenever he was near-she didn't know why, but there was something about him that repulsed her. She was barely conscious of it, but it was there-the revulsion. She trembled under his touch-like she couldn't bear the feel of his hands, not as though they were lovers. Draco pursued her constantly-Mychy could tell he was gone in a bad way for her-she had the feeling he had not love for her, but instead physical attraction. This, she was conscious of, and it irritated her, like the tag in the neck of a tee shirt that has been hardened and curled. If a guy loved her, it should be because she looked good, but because of her personality. What had looks to do with a person?
Other than this, she would say she loved him with all her heart-but who would say this about Draco? Would he claim to love her? Or would he say he was going out with her because she was good-looking and popular?
This feeling had been hovering around for a few weeks, ever since she had admitted to Harry that she hated being popular. She kept wondering why she was reluctant to admit this to Draco-It could be because he might dump her for not being cool enough for him. She noticed that Draco often was prejudiced and icy towards other houses, especially Gryffindor and Hufflepuff-why shouldn't he be biased towards a Ravenclaw as well? With these negative questions flooding her mind, she decided to confront him the night before the Quidditch match.
"What?" Draco responded coldly.
"Erm...I wanted to ask you about something."
"Why?"
"Because, well...frankly, I'm concerned about your relationship with Mychy."
Draco laughed scornfully.
"Harry! You, of all people, decide to talk to me about my love life? Fuck off; go do your homework or something. I don't need to discuss my love life with such mud-blood loving scum as you."
"No-the reason I ask is.." Harry faltered, a little shy. Why the hell was he talking with Draco, anyway? The same Draco who supported Lord Voldemort, who laughed in the face of bravery, and who evaded the face of authority so rebelliously? The same Draco, who was without a doubt, his worst enemy, for more than one reason?
"Well, if you're going to talk at me, hurry up before I curse you." Draco toyed lazily with his wand, which stuck haphazardly out of his left pocket.
"Have you noticed how Mychy's been lately?"
"She's been screwing me a lot," Draco said sarcastically.
"And we both know the truth is: she hasn't. Maybe that one time in the library last week, don't ask how I know about that, and then, you came upon her like an animal of prey. She's been pretty distant lately, hasn't she?"
Draco sneered. "Is this any of your business? I have work to do, and I think for your insolence and your obtrusiveness, you need to go fuck off."
"No, answer me-has she been very open with you?"
"No," Draco answered slowly.
"And I suppose you care greatly that she should be comfortable in your relationship?"
"Is it any of your business what I think? Well, truthfully, why should I care? She can fend for herself just fine. She doesn't need a therapist." Draco scoffed. "Happy now?"
Harry's face darkened with anger. "No, you shallow bastard, I'm not! Hell, you wanted to go out with Mychy, and be her friend-you should fucking care about her feelings!" Immediately, Harry felt extremely stupid for trying to meddle with Mychy's affairs. What did he think he was doing? Draco, for once, was right-why was it any of his business, anyway?
"You silly, callow little kid," Draco laughed shaking his head. "Go occupy yourself elsewhere-go play with your little gang. Go fight a dark wizard. Wizard-killer!" Draco turned on his heel, unfortunately not hearing Harry's sharply indrawn breath. He nearly smashed into a girl. It was Mychy. Apparently she had heard every word; tears of pain and sadness were streaming down her pale face, and her gray blue eyes were filled with anger, cool and icy. Harry was conveniently around a couple of corners by then to save himself the embarrassment.
"I can't believe you..." Draco heard every syllable, even though Mychy's voice was barely above a whisper. Her heart wrenched apart, she turned in the opposite direction and ran.
TO BE CONTINUED...