Chapter Three
"Sheila, I don't want you hanging around with Malfoy," Harry said as we walked back to the Common Room.
"I don't see what the big deal is! Draco isn't that bad," I said and pushed him onto a couch.
"He's up to something, he is. You're Muggle-born, Sheila,and he doesn't even talk to Muggle-borns."
"Harry, maybe he's changed."
"Not likely," Harry snorted. "He definately hasn't changed the past six years"
"Sheila and Malfoy sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-"
"Ginny, enough!" Harry snapped. "That's not helping!"
"Oh, come on, I'm not in love with him..." Harry looked at me skeptically. "Okay, so I am! Didn't you see him yesterday, though? He looked horrible."
"He always looks horrible. With a capital H."
"No, he's actually hot..." Ginny trailed off as Harry shot her a meaningful look. "But he's a git."
"Oh, finally! Someone who will listen to me!" Harry exclaimed. "Oliver, Roger, tell Sheila to stop hanging with Malfoy."
"...Why?" the two professors asked at the same time.
"Because he's an asshole!" Ron shouted as he came down the stairs.
"Um, F.Y.I..." Roger started and sat down beside me. "Sheila can hang out with anyone she wants to."
"Fag," Harry muttered under his breath.
"That's not nice... even if it is true," Oliver said with a small smirk. Roger leered at Oliver and Harry.
"Just because I'm different does not mean you can judge me."
"Says the gay one."
"Oh, be quiet, Ron," I huffed. Roger smiled.
"I have back-up. Sheila has a killer slap," he stated and took a loud gulp of water he had brought from the Great Hall.
"And boy, do I know that," Oliver muttered and rubbed his cheek. "You doing anything for Hogsmeade at the end of the month, Carter?"
"Yes," I said and stood up.
"Oooh, with who?" Oliver asked.
"You know, I hate it when you smirk like that, Oliver."
"I know, but you didn't answer my question."
"With Draco," I finished. Harry and Ron gaped at me. Ginny was busy brushing her hair. Oliver and Roger just kind of stared at me. "What?"
"You... you..." Ron spluttered.
"Yes... me..."
"Draco... you..."
"No."
"Then..."
"Friends, Ron, we're friends."
"Oh, but she wishes to be more," Roger said in a sing-song voice. I hid my smile and slapped my cousin's arm.
By the end of the month, me and Draco spent more and more time together, basically just talking about each other's families.
"You ready to go?" Draco asked me when I met up with him in the Great Hall. I nodded my head.
"You're sure you want to do this? Go out in public with a Gryffindor, I mean."
"Well, sure. Why not?"
"A little something called rep-u-ta-tion."
"Ah, friends talked you out of this, huh?"
"Not really."
"No one in Slytherin knows... I'd like to keep it that way, though, Sheila," Draco said, looking around cautiously. I nodded my head again. Once we got to the courtyard, we jumped into a carriage so fast that nobody could possibly see us. Sadly, Oliver and Roger did. They came in after us; Oliver with an expression on his face I couldn't decipher and Roger with his usual happy face. Draco looked at both of them and gulped.
"Nothing'll happen, right?" Oliver asked, deathly calm as the carriage began to move. Draco shook his head vigorously. I shot Oliver a look. He returned it with sticking his tongue out.
"You're so immature," I muttered. "Shouldn't be a Professor..."
"I MAY BE GAY..." Roger was saying quite loudly to Draco, waving his wand in front of his face. "BUT I'M JUST AS MANLY AS OLIVER!"
"Shut up, Roger," Oliver said and hit him.
"Don't worry about him, he wouldn't hurt a fly," I whispered to Draco.
"DAMN YOU!" Roger shouted and swatted a fly that was flying around him.
"You were saying?" Draco asked with an eyebrow raised. I stiffled a laugh and looked out the window.
"Draco," I said.
"Mm?" he hummed, staring out his window.
"What don't you like about Hermione?" Draco glanced at me.
"It's in my nature." He looked back out the window again.
"You're not prejudice to me," I said.
"Because you're different; you don't judge me by my family."
"And Hermione does?"
"Well..."
"You could at least try to be nice to her," I said. Draco just shrugged.
"Oliver, do you have my nail file?" Roger asked. Oliver stared blankly at him.
"Your what?"
"You know, my nail file... the sand-paper-like thing?"
"Why the hell would I have your nail file? I don't bat for the same team as you, Roger."
