Disclaimer: The characters and setting don't belong to me. The song Talking Like An Angel doesn't belong to me. They belong to JKR and Beth Thornley, respectively. What might belong to me, though, is the way in which the characters and settings are used for my own amusement. Tee hee.
Notes: A BIG thanks to everyone who reviewed last time—made me want to post the second chapter right away…but school got in the way, damn it. Hope you enjoy this one—AND REVIEW!! *is a review zombie*
Contacting the Author:
e-mail: praeludium104@yahoo.com
livejournal: www(dot)livejournal(dot)com/~la_triste
Talking Like An Angel
Chapter II: Toads, Names and Secrets.
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The second time she ever spoke to me, she was just as frantic as she had been the day in the room of requirements, right before she left.
Except this time, she didn't ask me where she was.
" Have you seen a toad, by chance?" I decided right then that she was very, very eccentric. A toad? Was it usual that a person walking through the halls of his school should spot a toad?
Looking down at her, I realized just how short she was. She had tugged at my robes a bit anxiously.
I tried not to look surprised as I squinted down at her and began to answer quite exasperatedly, feeling that she would only desist when I answered her--
" Ginny!" I stopped immediately, my eyes falling on Neville Longbottom. He floundered over to where she stood. He looked stricken. The girl in front of me stared at him disbelievingly.
" What is it, Neville?" She asked, blinking.
" You're name's Ginny?" I interjected suddenly, something clicking in my head, although I couldn't quite place it at the moment. She looked a bit flustered. A quaint blush flushed over her pale skin.
" Y-Yes." She wrung her hands together, and looked up at me shyly. I raised an eyebrow. She looked very familiar, someone I should be remembering. But before I could ask for a last name, Longbottom cut in.
" Ginny, come on, let's go! Even if Malfoy's seen Trevor, he won't tell us…no use talking to Malfoy…" And he went on as if I weren't there at all. If I hadn't currently been twirling the mystery of the redhead in my head, I would have sniped back at him (meaning, give him a good hexing). Silly Gryffindor twit. Then, the clumsy boy was dragging her off, and there was nothing I could do to stop her.
I watched her retreating figure as she hurried down the corridor.
The last thing I heard was her speaking.
" That's Draco Malfoy?"
I didn't know if I should smile, or frown.
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" Let me see your homework, Pansy." My hands reached over to where she sat, but she slapped it away.
" No." She answered curtly, not lifting an eye from her paper. I groaned, letting my head fall back onto the couch.
" Please?" I hated her, right then. Only Slytherins could make other Slytherins stoop so low to plead. The atrocious things she did to my sensitive pride were disturbing.
" Why should I let you, Draco?" She asked airily, shuffling her papers and looking very, very busy and important.
" Because I need it. I'm tired—and when I'm tired, I cannot think to my regular capacity."
" Hmm. A frightening thought, your intelligence, or lack thereof, being further reduced…if such a thing is even possible…Yes, I suppose you need your beauty sleep?" I smirked a little. If she was jesting with me, I had a better chance of letting me copy her homework.
" But of course. Could you live with it if you caused my stunning looks to go down the drain?" I asked almost innocently. She sniggered a little, still refusing to be completely distracted from her work.
" Oh, come on…Pansy…" I let out a note of frustration. "I'm begging you."
There. I had said the three fatal words. I watched in dull amusement as she looked up, hazel eyes glittering. I knew she was laughing, for I could almost hear her cackling laughter, barely tangible. Then she managed to look serious and stare me straight in the eyes.
" Don't beg, you dullard. Slytherins don't beg." And with that, she handed over her papers. I sighed, a hand reaching up to rumple my loose hair.
" Fuck you, Parkinson." I whispered to her, but the tone was still half-grateful, and I swore I saw a small smile on her face as I carefully copied down her work.
" But that'll be the last time, Malfoy." She warned. Like she always did. And like always, I waved it away with a nod. Making a face, she muttered, " I'm no Hermione Granger, slaving away at her best friends' expense…you got it?"
" Yea, yea, sure." I replied easily. When Pansy went into one of her long, bitter rants, it was best to just pretend you were rapt with attention. She eyed me with slight suspicion. Hurrying to change the subject, I coughed.
" So…Hogsmeade trip this weekend—have you noticed?" I asked. Usually, Hogsmeade trips had been reserved for me and me alone—well, of course, those two lugs Crabbe and Goyle always came along, but it had been long since they had started 'boycotting' me, on their fathers' orders. Not that I minded too much. I wasn't such a coward that I couldn't fight for myself.
So now, I found that most Hogsmeade trips were spent with Pansy Parkinson at the Three Broomsticks, where we made acrimonious remarks to passing students.
" I can't go." She said simply, furiously scribbling at a particularly engrossing part of her own essay. I blinked at her, disappointment sinking into my stomach. Despite what anyone thought, I didn't mind a companion or two, and Pansy Parkinson was not a whiny, clingy, frivolous girl. Oh, sure she could act like it, just to rile up the Gryffs.
" Why not?" I demanded, nose crinkling in disapproval. She rolled her eyes.
" Because, stupid. I'm busy."
" Busy with what?" I was suddenly curious. " How could you be busy with something other than me?"
" Pompous prick." She said icily. " What I'm busy with is no business of yours."
And that was it. I even desisted, though I was still wary of her motives—but her lips were set in a very thin line, her cheeks grew very pale, and that meant end of discussion.
Pansy Parkinson really could be scary at times, even for a Malfoy.
I shrugged, supposing that I would either stay at school and study the pants off myself, or stumble into The Three Broomsticks solo, finding droll amusement in ridiculing little first years.
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" Pansy!" I cried her name in aggravation for what seemed like the umpteenth time. " Potter and his cronies just passed our way again! And you let them go without an insult, once again!" I was on the verge of being furious with her. Alright—so I wasn't furious because I wasn't up to date on my eternal mission to infuriate everything Potter—but that was part of it.
Pansy, if possible, had been acting stranger and stranger as the days went by. She seemed dazed and out of place—heck, she had let me cheat off of her 3 more times after the last incident.
Something was not right, and it didn't take a Malfoy to figure it out. Therefore, I had, of course, already come up with a very well thought out guess as to what it was that distracted her from fulfilling her every day routines (i.e. me, homework with me, arguing with me, making cracks at Potter, cackling, shrieking, and giggling at them).
She was either currently partaking in a top secret mission that put her in mortal peril…
Or she was seeing someone.
I really didn't like the latter idea. It wasn't like she was tied to me, because we were definitely not together…more like, I was uncomfortable to the idea that she was sidling up to some boy, especially without me knowing who it was.
" And yet again, you're not listening to me." I finished lamely, looking at her blank expression. Feeling rather miffed that my supposed comrade was blatantly ignoring me; I shook my head and stalked off, leaving her to crawl slowly through the corridors.
As I reached the Slytherin common room, I was immediately reminded of the Hogsmeade trip that day, for the other students were busily buzzing about. Hogsmeade alone, or study until my eyeballs pop out. Hogsmeade, study. Study, Hogsmeade.
Sitting down on a couch in the common room, I glared at the crackling fireplace.
Damn it.
Everything was going wrong.
Life sucked.
See? When a boy like me is so distressed, even his usual never-ending supply of eloquence leaves him.
While I sullenly watched the bright orange flame in the fireplace, Pansy finally dragged herself in, looking less dazed than when I had last seen her. Asinine fool. She took one look at me, and looked terribly amused.
" Why are you pouting?" She asked, ignorantly. And I say she was ignorant because she failed to know that she was the problem.
" I'm not pouting." I snapped. " Malfoys don't pout."
" Mmm. Now I know something's wrong, because you only give me one of your 'Malfoys don't to this' speech when you're really pissed off." She concluded.
At this point, I was thoroughly hacked off and no longer wanted to bask in such low feelings. Turning to Pansy desperately, I tried my best to look pitiful.
" Will you go into Hogsmeade with me, then?" I asked. " If you do, then—maybe, just maybe, I might feel better…"
To no one's surprise, she snorted.
" I've told you before, Malfoy—I'm busy. Go play by yourself."
I saw how it was.
" Well, I guess I'll just sit here and continue to brood and snap ferociously at anyone who comes my way, Parkinson." I said coldly, annunciating each syllable. " If anyone happens to end up in the hospital soon, I'll say it's all your fault."
" Don't worry, Drakie darling," Pansy cooed, stroking my hair mockingly. " They'll just figure it's that time of month."
I shot daggers at her. The little wench would pay. I would have growled at her a bit more, wounding her pride so mine would feel better—but Crabbe and Goyle never did have impeccable timing, and they came bumbling in at that moment.
I cared not to stay in their presence longer than necessary. Turning my chin upwards, I stared condescendingly down at all of them.
" I'm going."
And I stomped away to Hogsmeade alone, resolving not to talk to Pansy ever again—
At least, not until the time came to do my homework.
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A/N: Please, please, please review.