A Co-Write
By Perr. Perr thanks those who have taken the time to read and review. :)
Draco's POV
"The point of turning this into---"
The lesson's as bland as Hagrid's poetic skills, and it's not even remotely funny that McGonagall's face is still mistakable for a prune. She looks better as a cat.
My eyes constantly dart to the side, to just keep a close watch on arch-rival Harry Potter. He's paying so much attention, I don't get why he can't even get anywhere close to my scores. I give myself a mental shrug. Guess he isn't quite as capable as I am.
Ooh, but I'm just itching, y'know? Just bloody waiting to say something sarcastic, something that'll hit him in the heart. For so many years, I think I've probably squeezed myself out of every last drop of insult I potentially had. Stupid twit. I run my fingers through my smooth hair and pick up my quill. Crabbe had better not be looking.
Potter.
I've been thinking about yesterday, when you were in your hideous round glasses and your uncombed hair.
I don't know whatever the hell is wrong with you, but you'd better not be thinking of doing anything idiotic, anything that'd affect me. You know you've caused more trouble to me than you would've ever imagined, although, I'd truly doubt you and your groupies would be able to keep your feet out of a hot cauldron.
Don't mess with me, half-blood.
I paused. Well, that should be good enough.
Yours truly.
Love, Malfoy.
What the fuck?
Bloody hell, I must be a little bit off my trolley. I black out the 'truly' and the 'love', desperately trying to make it absolutely unnoticeable. I don't think he would have any brains to try and look at what I cancelled out anyway.
Yours .
Malfoy.
Much better.
I wait for the Professor's back to be turned, before I throw it hard at Potter's head. Expecto Patronum that, goody-two-shoes.
He glances over his shoulder and I pass him my best smile. That's right, Harry, watch out. As soon as McGonagall turns around, I cock my head to one side and become an amazing actor by looking as if I've paid attention to every little curl and furl of word she's said behind her sagged cheeks and droopy eyes. I take back what I said about her earlier; she's better off as a dog.
That Gryffindor hasn't made eye contact with me all day, which I find to be good. I've got authority over him then. Looks like I won't have to look at his face for a long time. Something feels absolutely warm on my back, and I dig beneath to find my mirror, the one I was given that morning. Strange. I thought I left it in my cloak.
The red streak is gone completely, and I feel better about myself. It's not bad a mirror really, maybe it's the kind that compliments the way you look.
"At least I look way better than Harry Potter," I say out loud, arching a brow at myself, holding out the mirror.
Suddenly, the mirror begins to mist, and I notice something faint coming to the surface. Is that... Is that a face? It looks terribly familiar...
It's Potter himself.
I yell and let it fall to the floor, as I scramble over the couch and hide. Okay, I didn't hide. It's more like sheltering myself from potential dangers.
Blaise appears, and he looks startled. He spots me peering over the couch, and frowns.
"What in the magical universe are you screaming about?"
"I didn't scream, you idiot. It's the fucking mirror."
"What mirror?" He scoots over and turns over the cushions, then searches the floor. "This?" He inspects it first, then holds it out to me. "Well, it's got nothing in it. Draco, if you're so damn afraid of cockroaches, just admit it."
"It was not a cockroach! It was the mirror, and I saw---"I stop. If I'd told Blaise about seeing Potter in it, he'd report me to the sick bay immediately and start some rumors. "I'm not afraid of cockroaches."
"Sure," he dismisses completely, and gives it back to me. "Though, it's pretty weird that you keep a blue-tinted mirror."
He walks away and I stare at it. First a bit of crimson, now completely in a tone of ocean. Gods, this is really, really all that stupid half-blood's fault, isn't it? I'm not going to think about it. I'm not going to think about anything to do with it.
I put out the fire in the hearth with a short incantation and a flick of the wand, and then retreat to my dorm room. I stuff the mirror under my pillow.
I'm very, very tired. My sweatpants are comfy in the cool of the night, and I feel the exhaustion flip-flop my brain matter. But as soon as I lie down, I find myself staring up at the ceiling with a blank mind, just recalling nothing but the events of today.
Potter. Potter. Potter. Potter.
potterpotterpotterpotterpotterpotterpotterpotterpotter.
This was going to be a very long night.