by Perr - Helen triggered off a very good feeling inside, so here's Draco's POV bit. I hope it doesn't torture you, the speed of this fic.

Draco's POV

"Potter."
He turns around. Immediately, he follows me behind a pillar when I gesture.
"What?"
I'm a bit taken aback by his straightforwardness, his... obedience. Then again, his rudeness in conversation is still intact.
"Who is she?" I jump straight to my point.
He frowns. "Why do you want to know?"
"Because it matters!" Because it matters that she's above me! "Because... maybe I just feel..." Something lights up in his eyes. "...maybe I feel that it's important for me to know the people in your life so I can ruin it." I pause, then nod at how fantastic I really am to be able to pull things like these really well. "Yeah. I mean, everyone wants to, I might as well join in the fun!"
There is a grim look on his face. "Stop it, then. I don't need anymore of this---"
He takes a step closer. "---messed up---"
Another step makes him almost able to breathe into me. "---shit." I certainly wish that I could kiss him again at this moment, as my breath hitches in my throat. My eyes can't tear away from his mouth. What's it like to taste it again?
Stop, Draco. Stop.
Potter hesitates a moment. His lashes slump in a millisecond and the faintest sign of a smile appears. "You want to kiss me," he says.
"You want to kiss me too," I reply, surprised at the mysterious gleam in his eye.
"Doesn't the entire school want to?"
The heat from his faces reaches out to mine. "Especially you, Potter."
"What about Pansy?"
"I guess I can fill you into my schedule somewhere..."
His expression changes. "Word's gotten around that you're together." I shrug.
"I've got a class to attend now. Maybe I might consider wasting away my life by speaking to you later. That is, if that lowly bitch isn't all over you."
"She's not a bitch!" He steps further away and folds him arms. "Jealous, Malfoy?"
"We've been through this before."
"Come on! Anyway, I don't swing that way. Never did, never will."
"Never say never, you bint."
I turn and walk away.

"You're not supposed to put in the newt's eye yet!" Crabbe scolds Goyle.
This is my effort to pull up my grades. Thankfully, this project was addressed solely to me.
"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape had said, "You are one of the select few that have been assigned to this task." I remember feeling very uncomfortable sitting alone by myself after Potions class. Why me?, I thought.
"You are to create something entirely new from mundane material. That means you can play inventor for the time being," he said, pacing to and fro in front of the table I sat at. "We'll give you the material."
I've heard of the projects they've done. Some of them earned fortunes from their creations, while others had lost a few of their essential body parts. Two years ago, the key ingredient happened to be licorice and someone turned them into a living mass of tentacles. One of them jabbed him in the eye.
"You've got six months to finish it. If you don't complete it, be sure that your grades will plummet. Don't you dare disappoint the Slytherin House, Malfoy."
The supposed ordinary ingredient this year happens to be sand.
Sand which I now let slip through my fingers. Fine silken sand that I hardly know what to do with.
I'll never pass Potions now.
Pansy comes around to offer her help. I brush her off and think hard. Alright, I'll think of a weapon. I'll make sand into a weapon, to use against Potter, to use against that girl he's spending all his time with.
How?
Sand bombs? Sand blades? Sand smoke? How will I make it happen? Not all spells are chanted in Latin. Ok, most of them are in Latin. But there are some in Greek and Hebrew too, some even in English, and I don't know what the hell to do.
Stupid teachers. Stupid Ministry! They just want to exploit students everywhere, I'm sure of it. I can't think.
I can never think when his face is in my mind. Someone should slap MY face!
What we spoke about is now replaying in my head. Ok, I know, I want to do this even more for Potter. I'm making a weapon to use against Potter and that girl. Keep reminding myself of it.
Pansy bothers me again. She tries to squeeze into a space between Crabbe and I, and---
"Hey!"
Opaque, sickly green fluid splatters onto the sand sample. With a hiss, the affected parts darken and clump together. I let out an exasperated, "Shit!"
Pansy extends a pale finger to right her wrong. When she does, she shrieks and sticks her index into her mouth.
I grab a glass rod and prod the accident.
"It's becoming shorter!" Crabbe says.
"Shut up, I can see that!"
I push the rod into the sand. It crumbles and cracks, disintegrating into powder.
A call of "whoa" sounds behind me. "What did you put in that thing?!"
"A few things," Crabbe says.
Goyle takes out a sickle and pushes it into my experiment. Dust.
I stare at the mess.
"Tell me everything," I demand.

Because I may be able to nab Potter with it... and be rid of that girl too.