Author's Note: This chapter was kinda short, but you'll get over it. Draco's mystery woman is revealed! And no, it's not Hermione! Also, slight drama-queening on Harry's part. Oh well. Flogging Molly rocks.
Chapter Three:
Harry stormed out of Number Four, Privet Drive, fuming with anger. He'd been angry all morning. Not one letter from Ron, nor Hermione, nor Lupin, nor anyone else at that hell Grimmauld place that he thought gave a damn about him. It was just like last summer. He got letters telling him to practice occlumency, not let the muggles get to him, keep his chin up, and not to worry, he'd be coming to headquarters soon. Harry knew it was just because the letter may fall into the wrong hands, but it still irked him. Badly.
Harry stalked down the road, the sun beating down on him annoyingly. His anger started to fade away as he remembered Hermione and Ron's sad, and scared faces the last summer when he'd blown up at them. He'd felt pretty bad afterwards, and didn't want to feel that again. He hated being the one against them two. He found it was like that more and more often nowadays, he against them.
It was because they didn't know what it was like, seeing what Voldemort sees. It was because they were for the most part, normal, average wizards, and he most certainly wasn't. It was because they didn't have a bold, ugly lightning bolt scar on their foreheads to show the world what Voldemort had stolen from him.
Harry threw himself on a swing, almost unaware that he had walked straight to the park. He stared bitterly at the hot soil beneath his feet, wishing he could melt into and just loose all the worry he had in this world. He really hated Harry Potter right now.
Draco wandered about Diagon Alley. He was surprised he'd recieved no mail from his father yet. Actually, now that Draco thought about it, his father was probably ignoring the fact that he excisted. His father probably hoped he had died. Probably, as far as Lucius was concerned, Draco didn't excist. He was a disgrace to the family.
Oh, and this was coming from a guy who'd lapped up wine like a fucking dog to save his own, rather handsome neck. Disgrace indeed.
"Draco?" Draco whirled around. There she was. HER. Oh, she was beautiful on that day. Not that she wasn't always gorgeous. As she watched Draco with her sparkling moss-green eyes, Draco was sure he heard angels singing somewhere.
Jeez, how corny. But that's what love does to even the most cold-hearted boys. Not that I'm calling Draco cold-hearted, or anything. That's so obviously just a mask. He's not as robotic as his father.
Her long, dark, wavy hair was pulled into a careless bun on top of her head, and she wore liberal amounts of eyeliner and lipgloss. She wore a white sweater and, Draco noted, rather tight jeans with sneakers.
"B-Blaise!" Draco stuttered, "How's your s-summer been?" Yeah, Draco, the big stud at Hogwarts was actually nervous around a girl. Snicker.
Blaise Zaibini raised her long, elegant neck and smiled. "It's been fun. I heard you went to Pansy's."
Draco didn't bother to repress a look of disgust at Pansy's name. It was true, but nobody liked Pansy. She was annoying. Got in the way. You couldn't tell her anything without the whole damn school knowing. But why did the Slytherins put up with her? Because she was rich, came from a well-to-do family, just like all of the them. She was a pureblood, and detested losing, Gryffindors, and Dumbledore, just like all of the Slytherins. They had to face it: She was one of them.
Blaise continued smiling calmly, beautifully, "I heard it was pretty bad."
Fuck, gossip traveled fast. Draco nodded, "That's why I'm here." It was also no secret how angry Lucius tended to get. Of course Draco couldn't go back home. Blaise felt slightly drawn to him because of this. Her father, Gavin Zaibini, was very strict. But bearable, of course.
Every girl loves a boy who has suffered...right?
"Wanna go get ice cream?" Blaise asked, "I've finished all my shopping, and my dad's got all my stuff at the Leaky Cauldron. We're staying there."
"I am too!" Draco exclaimed, realizing how shit-eating he had sounded. Just then. Dammit!
Blaise smiled that perfect, calm smile again. "That's good." Nothing seemed to faze her. She grabbed his hand (oh, how soft her skin was!) and gently pulled him across the street to the ice cream parlor.
Draco saw Neville Longbottom, being hustled along by his grandmother in the crowds rushing up and down the busy streets of Diagon Alley, and Draco managed to give him his signature sneer. Draco was, after all, a Slytherin. He wasn't a fucking Hufflepuff with his head in the clouds. He was Draco Malfoy. He had a reputation to keep up.
Author's Note: You guys know Blaise Zaibini, right? She was a Slythern in the first book, she was sorted with Harry and crew. I don't know if she's a girl or a boy, but there has to be more than Pansy and Milicent in Slytherin, so I made her a girl.
Chapter Three:
Harry stormed out of Number Four, Privet Drive, fuming with anger. He'd been angry all morning. Not one letter from Ron, nor Hermione, nor Lupin, nor anyone else at that hell Grimmauld place that he thought gave a damn about him. It was just like last summer. He got letters telling him to practice occlumency, not let the muggles get to him, keep his chin up, and not to worry, he'd be coming to headquarters soon. Harry knew it was just because the letter may fall into the wrong hands, but it still irked him. Badly.
Harry stalked down the road, the sun beating down on him annoyingly. His anger started to fade away as he remembered Hermione and Ron's sad, and scared faces the last summer when he'd blown up at them. He'd felt pretty bad afterwards, and didn't want to feel that again. He hated being the one against them two. He found it was like that more and more often nowadays, he against them.
It was because they didn't know what it was like, seeing what Voldemort sees. It was because they were for the most part, normal, average wizards, and he most certainly wasn't. It was because they didn't have a bold, ugly lightning bolt scar on their foreheads to show the world what Voldemort had stolen from him.
Harry threw himself on a swing, almost unaware that he had walked straight to the park. He stared bitterly at the hot soil beneath his feet, wishing he could melt into and just loose all the worry he had in this world. He really hated Harry Potter right now.
Draco wandered about Diagon Alley. He was surprised he'd recieved no mail from his father yet. Actually, now that Draco thought about it, his father was probably ignoring the fact that he excisted. His father probably hoped he had died. Probably, as far as Lucius was concerned, Draco didn't excist. He was a disgrace to the family.
Oh, and this was coming from a guy who'd lapped up wine like a fucking dog to save his own, rather handsome neck. Disgrace indeed.
"Draco?" Draco whirled around. There she was. HER. Oh, she was beautiful on that day. Not that she wasn't always gorgeous. As she watched Draco with her sparkling moss-green eyes, Draco was sure he heard angels singing somewhere.
Jeez, how corny. But that's what love does to even the most cold-hearted boys. Not that I'm calling Draco cold-hearted, or anything. That's so obviously just a mask. He's not as robotic as his father.
Her long, dark, wavy hair was pulled into a careless bun on top of her head, and she wore liberal amounts of eyeliner and lipgloss. She wore a white sweater and, Draco noted, rather tight jeans with sneakers.
"B-Blaise!" Draco stuttered, "How's your s-summer been?" Yeah, Draco, the big stud at Hogwarts was actually nervous around a girl. Snicker.
Blaise Zaibini raised her long, elegant neck and smiled. "It's been fun. I heard you went to Pansy's."
Draco didn't bother to repress a look of disgust at Pansy's name. It was true, but nobody liked Pansy. She was annoying. Got in the way. You couldn't tell her anything without the whole damn school knowing. But why did the Slytherins put up with her? Because she was rich, came from a well-to-do family, just like all of the them. She was a pureblood, and detested losing, Gryffindors, and Dumbledore, just like all of the Slytherins. They had to face it: She was one of them.
Blaise continued smiling calmly, beautifully, "I heard it was pretty bad."
Fuck, gossip traveled fast. Draco nodded, "That's why I'm here." It was also no secret how angry Lucius tended to get. Of course Draco couldn't go back home. Blaise felt slightly drawn to him because of this. Her father, Gavin Zaibini, was very strict. But bearable, of course.
Every girl loves a boy who has suffered...right?
"Wanna go get ice cream?" Blaise asked, "I've finished all my shopping, and my dad's got all my stuff at the Leaky Cauldron. We're staying there."
"I am too!" Draco exclaimed, realizing how shit-eating he had sounded. Just then. Dammit!
Blaise smiled that perfect, calm smile again. "That's good." Nothing seemed to faze her. She grabbed his hand (oh, how soft her skin was!) and gently pulled him across the street to the ice cream parlor.
Draco saw Neville Longbottom, being hustled along by his grandmother in the crowds rushing up and down the busy streets of Diagon Alley, and Draco managed to give him his signature sneer. Draco was, after all, a Slytherin. He wasn't a fucking Hufflepuff with his head in the clouds. He was Draco Malfoy. He had a reputation to keep up.
Author's Note: You guys know Blaise Zaibini, right? She was a Slythern in the first book, she was sorted with Harry and crew. I don't know if she's a girl or a boy, but there has to be more than Pansy and Milicent in Slytherin, so I made her a girl.