Disclaimer: You know I don't own anything that even has the names Harry and Potter in the same sentence, so why must you rub this fact in my face.
A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed. I'm glad you like it, and if you don't, I'm glad you don't like my crap because I wouldn't like it either if I were an innocent fanfiction reader.
This chapter will shed light on how Ron and Hermione feel. I feel like a hypocrite because I totally despise the whole weak and depressed Draco thing, but it's the only way I can work their relationship into my story, so there you are. Anyway, I decided to have the admirers' points of view in the first chapter, but now I'm telling this story from the POV of the admired. I've had enough of my useless ramblings. Now, go on with the story.
Ron's POV
Ron sat in the back of the potions room, waiting for class to begin. He had decided around fifth year that it's better to arrive very early in class than to risk arriving late. Professor Snape enjoyed taking away Gryffindor House points far too much for one to take any chances. The only other person in the classroom was Malfoy.
Ron secretly wished he had as much control over his emotions as Malfoy did. One thought of the arrogant blonde was enough to send Ron fuming with rage. He didn't know what it was about the annoying git that made him want to perform acts of violence on his frail little ass.
Ron turned to glare at the object of his wrath, and, as had been happening very often as of late, he caught Draco Malfoy staring at him.
Why does he do that? Maybe he's just trying to play one of his mind games on me. That won't work this time Malfoy. Two can play at that game.
Ron began to glare at the slytherin, and was more than a little scared when he realized that Malfoy was not glaring back. He just continued to stare at him in a strange kind of distant way. He didn't even have his usual smirk on his face.
Ron's face displayed his every emotion. He went from being angry, to confused, to angry again in a matter of seconds.
Why do I always let that bloody git get the best of me? Why won't he insult me? I have to get him to do something…normal.
Just as Ron had resolved to walk over to the Slytherin, more students, and Professor Snape, began to pour into the potions classroom. It was only then that Malfoy's face resembled something close to what he was used to.
"Today," began Professor Snape, "we will be making Polyjuice Potion, though I am sure that some of you," he stared openly at the trio, "have already tampered with this potion. I have left the instructions on the board for I have important matters I must attend to. If you come to my desk, you will see a list. I have assigned partners for each of you," groans could be heard throughout the classroom. "If I come back here and find one thing out of order, I can assure you, you will be expelled." And with that, Professor Snape left, his dark robes eerily billowing behind him.
The class walked up to the front of the room to find out whom they were to be paired with. Groans could be heard from both Gyffindors and Slytherins alike. Ron almost shuddered in fear when he thought about whom he could possibly be paired up with.
Let's see. Dean got Blaise. Harry got Crabbe, sorry mate. Hermione got Pansy. Seamus got Neville. Lavender got Goyle, so that leaves me with…
"Hello partner," sneered a voice that could only be attributed to Malfoy.
"Oh, so this must be what Hell feels like," Ron replied. He could already feel himself getting angry.
"Oh, cut the bloody nonsense Weasley. No matter how I despise you, I refuse to fail. So if you would please get the ingredients while I set up the cauldron. If you do what you're told like the loyal little dog you are, I may not fail after all."
It took all of the strength Ron had inside himself not to attack the Slytherin on the spot. Though he had said the words quite rudely, Ron got the gist of what he was trying to say. Can we just get this done for our grade's sake please? To avoid confrontation, Ron turned to get the ingredients.
Why the hell is he still staring at me? Ron could feel Malfoy's eyes against his back. This is getting real old real quickly.
When Ron returned to their table, he found that Draco had indeed gotten set up the cauldron and other potions apparatuses.
Ron was utterly surprised at how easily, and quickly the brewing process went. He was afraid when he discovered that they would begin Polyjuice potion for he knew how long it took to brew, and he didn't think he could stand being partnered with Malfoy for a day, let alone 5 weeks. But, by some miracle, the duo worked surprisingly well together. Draco asked for the ingredients, and Ron handed them to him…easy.
Now, if he would just stop starring at me. Draco's constant stares had gone from being annoying and were now just plain unnerving. Maybe I should ask him about it…
"Malfoy, why the hell do you keep staring at me," Ron asked finally. Ron had expected the Slytherin to smirk and say something like, I was just wondering how old a robe has to be for your family to notice they are nothing but rags, but instead, Malfoy just looked at him.
OK, now this is just plain weird.
"Malfoy, did you not hear what I just asked you?" Ron tried again to rouse something out of Malfoy.
Finally, Malfoy sighed, and said very calmly, "Maybe I'm just tired of fighting you."
What the fuck?
"What did you just say Malfoy?" Ron asked in a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and confusion. Out of all the things he had expected to hear from the Slytherin, it certainly hadn't been that…
"I said that I'm tired of fighting with you. Don't you think we're a little old for this constant game we play?"
"Well, uh," Ron was speechless. What do you say to you're long time enemy when they say stuff like that? As usual, Ron's confusion turned to frustration, which always led to anger.
"Why the hell are you saying this shit now Malfoy? We've been "playing this game" with each other since first year, and now you complain."
"I don't know. I just got tired of it all. It's all quite immature if you think about it. I mean, the only reason why I hate you and you hate me is because that's what we're expected to do. Do you always do what's expected of you?"
Before Ron had time to answer Malfoy, the bell rang. Malfoy immediately left the classroom leaving a confused Ron in his wake.
What the hell was that?
Hermione's POV
Hermione Granger had everything she wanted. She was Head Girl, had good friends, and was an all around good person. Sure, Hermione Granger had it all…
Except Harry Potter…
Hermione had always had a sort of crush on the Boy Who Lived, but she knew she was in over her head by her 5th year when Harry began to grow into the man he was now. He was no longer the scrawny little boy with the big glasses anymore. He was well built, strong, and devastatingly gorgeous in that homely kind of way. To put it simply, Hermione Granger wanted Harry Potter.
But how could I possibly get him to notice me as more than a "friend"?
The problem with Harry was his seemingly insatiable desire for women. Every time Hermione turned around, Harry had a new "girlfriend," though he did of course keep around a few of his favorites, namely Cho Chang and Parvati Patil. It took all of Hermione's will not to glare at Parvati when she described how sexually apt Harry was. Hermione hated jealousy, and hated it even more when she was the jealous one.
I always thought he was a more homey type of man…guess I was wrong.
"Wrong" was the understatement of the century. Harry had been with more women than the illustrious Draco Malfoy, and that was definitely saying something.
"Oh my goodness," began Parvati Patil, the infamous slut of Gryffindor, "you should've seen Harry last night. He was an absolute animal. I've never had so many orgasms in my life. If he keeps up like this, I might just have to keep Mr. Potter around for a little while longer than I had originally planned."
Giggles could be heard throughout the common room. Quite frankly, Hermione had never been much of the giggling type, and it annoyed her, but she thought she would explode if she didn't leave that room and fast.
"Hermione," Parvati started, "where are you going? You're going to miss the best part."
"I think I've heard quite enough," Hermione replied tersely.
Hermione stormed through the portrait hole, and nearly ran to her rooms. That was definitely the best thing about being a prefect; you got your own rooms. As soon as Hermione reached her rooms, she shut the door behind her and collapsed on her bed. Anger was not an emotion she was used to, and neither was the urge to cause bodily harm, but she was experiencing both things at the moment.
I hate that bloody Parvati Patil. She's such a whore. Oh, if I could only…
Hermione's thoughts went from Parvati to Harry.
I suppose Harry is no better is he. Aren't I good enough for him? Can he even see me for the women I've become, or am I still just a "friend"? I can't wait for him forever. Can't he see that?
A/N: Well, there it is, chapter 2. I really have a problem with even numbers, so consider yourself lucky that it didn't take me more than three months to post this. I love all of you who reviewed, whether it be good or bad.