A/N- Here's chaptersix. I hope you guys enjoy it. It is beta-ed. Thanks V! You helped a lot!
---
Draco woke up to the disturbing blinding lights of the bright sun the next morning. He put a hand over his eyes to shut the lights away, and attempted to fall back asleep when he noticed his motion made the muscles between his shoulders and his back tighten in a knot.
Needing to clear his head, Draco went out to the lake for a swim last night. But he did it without warming up first, losing track of time he out did himself. He could have drowned if the squid didn't grab him and practically, threw him to the shore. All of that might have caused the sore muscles. Now, he was in bed cursing his predicament.
Today was yet another day and he had to get up. McGonagall had told him under no circumstances that he had to be at her office before breakfast.
McGonagall had made mention that what happened the night before was a waste of time, this left Ginny and Draco a bit confused. They parted, then, still feeling confused as ever, but what made the parting a different was the peck Ginny gave him just before they went their separate ways. That was what made Draco want to clear his head in the first place.
He sat up, rolling his shoulder grimacing when it made his muscles more painful. Rubbing his eyes, he made his way to the bathroom sleepily.
-----------------------------------------
Draco walked down the hallway surreptitiously, careful not to billow his robes too much —it'd make him look like a ponce, wonder why Snape likes to do it so much— and few second-years scurried away at the sight of him, and more of the third-years —female— looked at him with possibly awe and great appreciation.
Thank the heavens that Crabbe and Goyle weren't there. He just could not bare a morning after last night with buffoons. At least there were no Slytherins about to question him where he was last night. Maybe that was a sign for a good day.
He really had forgotten the supposed weekly meeting the Slytherins called last night and every other Thursday. Zabini had been in his room last night, after he got back from the lake, and demanded answers as to where he had been. He had to cancel the meeting with Draco, as the Head, were not there.
Meeting. Draco laughed silently. What was so important until they have to call for meetings anyway? Weekly at that! Draco wagered it would have been like every other night. Reports on other Quidditch teams' strategy, latest gossips for the Parkinson's Posse, newest interesting spell, and suggestions for the next probable place to hold the Monthly rite.
A black-haired girl – Ravenclaw possibly, by the blue tie—looked at him with dreamy eyes and an auburn-haired next to her was trying to get her attention when, she too, saw him, and a blush crept up her face. The Ravenclaw whisper something to her friend without taking her eyes off him, and they both giggled. Refusing to let anything puzzles him, he continued to McGonagall's office without paying another heed to them, but it left him feeling a bit pleased.
He pushed open the door to McGonagall's office feeling today would possibly be a good day, despite his aching muscles, and saw Ginny, in the arms of a black haired… Harry sodding Potter. And they looked like they were having a time playing tonsil hockey. Draco wasn't sure what caused it but the sight of them had boiled the blood in his veins.
The couple broke apart at his entrance. Or rather Ginny pushed Potter away, tried to push, but Potter held a firm grip on her arms.
"Harry! What do you think you are doing?!" She yelped, and then turned to Draco. "Draco! M— M—Malfoy! W-what are you— this isn't what you think. This—"
Pretending as if he wasn't bothered at all by their present antics wasn't easy. He clenched his hand, trying to channel his anger to it.
"I don't care." He cut her babbling sharply. Strangely, it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself, rather to her. Ginny frowned at him; she seemed disappointed. "Pardon for the… intrusion." Draco sneered and Potter glared at him.
Draco exited the room and closed—he hoped, he didn't slam— the door behind him. Once outside the room, Draco punched the stone-wall across the door with volcanic rage. He put both of his hands against the wall, and punched it again; just for the principle.
A few students nearby gasped. He turned to them with malicious eyes. The black-haired Ravenclaw and the auburn-hair girl were there, and their blood-stricken faces nearly made him laugh, if he was capable of reigning in his temper. If.
"What are you all looking at? I'm sure you mangy mallards have other petty matters to attend to. Go!" He shouted.
The auburn haired girl took another step toward him, but was stopped when a dark-haired Hufflepuff grabbed her wrist, shook his head, and dragged her away from Draco. The Ravenclaw trailed behind them, giving back glances at Draco. Other students already fought their way away from him.
Draco mustered all his good judgments and forced himself to calm down. He didn't live his entire life to let himself unleash his emotions for the cause of trivial matters. Ire became icy edges. Cool and cold. Repentant at his reddening knuckles, he turned to go, and saw McGonagall stalking towards him. She was obviously surprised when she saw him, and then, recollection dawned on her face.
She made it to the door in a quicker pace and regarded him with a nod. "Mr. Malfoy. What are you doing outside here? Get inside." She said and opened the door, waving her hand gesturing him in. She entered the room, leaving the door open for him, and went to sit behind her desk.
Draco fought for his calmness again when crossing the threshold. He avoided looking at the two Gryffindors in the room. Just by their very presence he could feel hatred, enough for ten men, towards them. Well, not both, just with the one that malformed witless scabby Scarhead.
"Close the door, will you, Mr. Malfoy?"
He closed it and took a good look at the room, since he hadn't when he first came in. Last time he was here was, in his first year, the night that he saw Norbert in the Hagrid's house. It didn't changed much, except the Quidditch Cup on its dais behind McGonagall's chair, prevailed other objects and variable ornaments in her office. The stone table was in the centre of the room, with one chair behind it with two in front of it. There were bookshelves from the door curved semi-circle toward the glass window on the wall across the door. A counter with a body of glass —inside, were uncanny looking substances— was at the end of the room. On top of it were The Cup, and other dangerous aspect materials.
Draco patiently sat on one of the chairs in front on the table not saying anything nor looking at anything in particular, just waiting. He kept his silence not wanting to say anything, or rather not wanting to divulge anything. He was rage itself, whatever he wanted to be, convinced otherwise. It didn't matter if Ginny—no, Weasley wanted to kiss other goddamn guys. He didn't bloody care. She wasn't his bloody girlfriend, and wasn't going to bloody be, and for bloody ever.
But who was he trying to fool? He was angry, meaning that he did care, and that bothered. And Gin—Weasley wasn't his girlfriend! Not even friend! Less. Acknowledgeable other. Yes, he bloody kissed her once, twice, thrice. And, yes, he took off her top once. But she didn't even appear aware that it ever happened. She was a bamboozling riddle and he'll never get to decipher it. How was he going to decipher anything, if he was sitting here and arguing with himself?
"Fascinating isn't it, Malfoy? And you only get to dream of touching it," a voice, an utmost undesirable voice, addressed from his left.
Draco didn't realise he was staring at the Quidditch Cup until Potter spoke up. Potter sat on the chair to his left and Gi—Weasley!—on a stool at his (Draco) right. He raised an eyebrow and leaned over to her.
"Why are you sitting here? And not over there?" He kept his voice low enough not to let Potter overhear but intentionally looked pointedly at him. "On his lap?"
When Draco looked at her and saw her blushed, he smirked and gave Potter an aggravating look. He raised his voice just enough, "Not a very good kisser, was he? I expected so." Potter's eyes flash menacingly.
"And I assume that you are, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall said. She had heard what Draco said and twined her fingers in fronts of her face. Draco smirked earnestly.
"Of course, I am, Professor," he answered smoothly. "Couldn't you tell from the effects I had on someone last night? Weasley, I know you could." She blushed again and glared at him.
"Last night? What happened last night, Professor?" Potter scowled.
Draco replied for her. "I believe that it is none of your business, Potter. What are you doing here anyway? Where's Weasley?" When Potter incredulously looked from him to Ginny, he added, "The other Weasley, you dupe."
McGonagall slammed a heavy book on the table and smiled. "Now, now, Mr. Malfoy. There will be no more of name calling right after this very minute." Her false smile dropped instantly. "I want mutual toleration from both of you. If you're going to work together, I believe enmity wouldn't fit it in any form. Cooperation means civility and respect. Do both of you understand me?"
Draco nodded. "Yes, that I do, Professor." Wait, did she say-- "By no intents of disrespect, Professor, but what do you mean by Potter," he spat the name, "and I have to work together? It was only Weasley all of this time."
McGonagall gave him a glare —which reminds him of an angry cat— formerly before answering. "Before the failure last night, Mr. Malfoy," she said his name with a tone, as if, telling him it was his blunder. "I see no need for Mr. Potter to participate in our attempts to cure Mr. Weasley. And now that we have to use other methods, new approaches, from numerous ways, I will need Mr. Potter's assistance. I think that you, Mr. Malfoy, kissing—" She said 'kissing' in a hissing way, "—Miss Weasley already left little impression on Mr. Weasley. Besides, I inferred more hands makes more progresses".
"Or more disaster", Weasley muttered. Draco was about to answer her when Potter suddenly yelped.
"Kissing Ginny?!" He was impetuous. Draco wagered he listened only until the bit where McGonagall said Draco kissed Gi—Weasley. He stood up, screaming at Draco. "Malfoy, you rogue! Wasn't once enough for you to problem us?! And you have to do it again. Why is it this time, huh? Muting me as well?"
Draco only sat back and replied effortlessly in bored tone. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter. Everything is not about you."
"Of course not! Surprisingly, you decided that it was going to be a fine day to ruin other people's life. 'Oh no, Potter and Weasley are having a good time beating up my sorry arse at Quidditch. I have to get back at them'," he mocked in a girl's voice, "Tell me, Malfoy. Did you really borne this horrendous hostility towards everyone just to ascertain that they know you as a complete condescending snoot that you are, or just to affirm that they know that, at least, you—a Malfoy—simply are a corrupted arse?!"
Draco stood up and looked down at Potter. Draco was well a head taller than him and it precisely helped him to advantage; he wanted to loom above him. How dare he speak of matters he doesn't understand? He didn't have family obligations set for him right after the minute he was born. He didn't have demands, and high expectations for them to be fulfilled from everyone; his comrades and household. He didn't have his future set by neglecting parents who see him no more than the only successor of the third generation of the family tree to serve the Dark Lord. He didn't have to agonize, tortured, every night when a friend discovered 'he wasn't acting like himself'. And most importantly, he didn't have the name Malfoy.
If he was raged before, what he felt right now couldn't even compare to that. Contempt wasn't even the word to begin. Even abhorrence wasn't, too.
"I will not warn you for a next time, Potter. Or there will be no next time for you," he set a malicious tone, "Do not talk as if you know me," he paused at looked Potter down his nose. "There's more than just Malfoy. I wouldn't reach halfway, if I tell you what comes with the name, before you start to quiver and weep."
"I think I have a few ideas on that. You have been displaying your trait to the core all the time, for all it's worth, and never letting anyone forget it," Potter advanced a scant. "Yes, I do not know you, but I know you enough to have a pretty good picture of whom you really are, what you really are."
"How far do you really know me, Potter? How could you possibly know me? I do not flaunt who I am like you. I do not have a hideous scar to mark me. I do not have 'I am Malfoy' sign on my back. I do not need to parade myself.People assume they know me, Potter," he display the gravest sneer. "One of the things that comes with the name."
"Yeah, and so is the spiteful attitude. And that foul thinking, the horrid belief that you're better than others, and not to mention that hideous shade of hair. Speaking of the name, how's daddy doing, Draco?"
Potter was really trying him. It was not really that he cares for his old folk, but Lucius was his father. Draco looks up to him, but despises him. He was egomaniacal and forceful, but he was exemplary, in Draco's notion. He was, what Draco believe, the true meaning of a Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, was all what Draco wanted to be and not. He wanted to be himself, but to be another Lucius at the same time. He craved for his father being full of pride for him, and that he would suffocate to death as its outcome. And the fact that Potter brought his father up was really beyond the edge…
"He is doing much better than yours, obviously."
"Bastard!" Potter bellowed and fired himself at him. A hard knuckle connected with Draco's left cheek. Then, into his stomach. Draco doubled over. And another punch to his face from below. He could feel his lip split and tasted blood in his mouth. Fortunate that he didn't fell down; he wanted to never look weak in front of anyone. He firmed his foot, stood up erect, and gave Potter a right-hook that impacted below his left/right eye. Potter's glasses dropped to the floor, he stumbled a couple steps backward and grabbed the seat for balance. With or without his glasses, Potter launched at Draco, taking him down with his weight. He started to strike at Draco's face, blindly. Draco parried the next supposed punch and grabbed Potter's collar and rolled him over so he was on top. Potter grasped his left hand, the one seizing his collar, with both hands, trying to pry it off. Draco hauled him to a sitting position and drew back his right hand, ready for the second blow.
"Enough! Expelliarmus!" Something struck at Draco and he soared across the room away from Potter. His back connected with the bookshelves and dropped to the floor in a heap.
"Mr. Potter! Stay where you are! Petrificus Totalus! I cannot believe this!" McGonagall shrieked as she lowered her wand. Weasley was pale and looked like she was about to be sick. Potter was on his feet looking at Draco with malevolent eyes. Besides from that, Potter stood impossibly erect, with his hands at his sides, legs closed together, not moving.
"M—Malfoy. A-Are you alright?" Weasley was at his side, suddenly, and besides from the screeching in his ear ("Honestly! What were you thinking?!"), he was glad she was there. She helped him get up, grimacing visibly at his weight. "Come on. Let's get to the chair." She took his arm and put it across her shoulders (he was so much taller than her) and awkwardly tried to walk him to the chair.
Draco snatched his hand back. "I can walk myself, Weasley."
She looked up at him, the corners of her eyes tighten dangerously, and sniffed. "Well, I thought… Never mind. Walk yourself, then."
Meanwhile, McGonagall was still shrieking behind her table. "Fighting! In my office! In front of a teacher! No one ever heard of it! I should swap all of your bottoms! Obviously detention isn't enough."
Potter—minus his glasses— already was on the chair Draco formerly sat, free of the Binding spell. Draco was walking to the chair when suddenly something snapped under his feet. Without giving it a glance, he continued to the chair. He sat on it, and couldn't help grimacing visibly when his back gave a brief sting when his muscles contracted.
McGonagall was grumbling, looking at Draco to Potter and Draco again.
"H-Here's your… um… glasses, Harry. Harry?" The pair of spectacle was broken. Potter grabbed at it, a little two inch to its left, before Weasley took his hand and put the smashed glasses in his palm. "Um… Malfoy stepped on it. He didn't do it on purpose, I'm sure. Think so." Weasley was sitting on her stool, beside Potter.
"When do Malfoy ever anything off purpose, Ginny? Never!" Potter insisted.
Draco was about to answer, when he saw McGonagall looked at him; daring him to, and Draco decided against it.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter—" McGonagall started, "—there is no word could explain how I am feeling right now. No word. I am terribly disappointed in the both of you. Especially you, Mr. Malfoy. You, as the Head Boy, should know better than to display such horrible actions! Fighting! What on Merlin's holy name were you thinking? And you, Mr. Potter! I cannot believe how a student of my own house would act so… despicably! In front of me!" She shook her head for the umpteenth time, as if she would wake from a dreadful dream that way.
"I do not know what punishment that could equate the seriousness of your charge. Both of you will be serving detention—as if you don't have so many at the moment, don't you remember what started this problem? Have either of you gave a moment to think about it?—every evening after your classes ends, starting this evening, until I gave word for you to stop attending it. Shame, the both of you! Did you forget etiquettes? Are you both not learnt manners?" McGonagall glared. She continued with a remorseful tone. "Detention, then you will have dinner. And then, you will come straight to my office. No quick stops! Straight here! If you are late, I will punish you."
"We will have to talk about Mr. Weasley's condition. Or have you forgotten about that too?" At that, McGonagall looked at Potter in a solemn way that would make anybody feel guilty. Even if they didn't do anything wrong. "Be here after dinner, Miss Weasley. You both," she stood up and looked down at the boys, "I hope you are happy with this. What a morning waste! I will inform Mr. Filch of your detentions. You will see him after classes. Leave my office! Now!" She pointed sharply toward the door.
-----------------------------------------
Classes went fine, for a disastrous day. The bell had rung, when they were in McGonagall's office, without him noticing in the morning. He missed breakfast and had to sit through two periods of Care of Magical Creatures, two periods of Astrology and a half an hour of Magical History, with a stomach concert.
At the breaktime, Draco gulped half of his lunch, and packed the rest of it and hurried to the grounds. There was a mountain of homework to finish, and he wouldn't get any time to do it in the night. He chose a shady place under a tree, dropped his burden —his satchel, and the food— conjured a mat and a low table. He started the Astrology theory of Mars's Circulation while chewing an apple with his left hand, when he noticed that Weasley was walking towards him. He bent over his homework pretending he didn't see her.
"Hiya," she sat on the mat next to him.
Draco looked to her, raised an eyebrow and offered the bitten apple, which was in his hand. She shook her head no and leaned to see his homework. "Need any help with that?"
"No." Draco wanted to ask her what was she doing there, but he didn't want to waste time than doing his homework.
Silence stretched when she didn't answer. He continued to do his homework, forgetting her. She moved across him at the table, pulled a parchment from her bag and did her own work. They sat there for the entire lunchbreak, he doing his homework, and Weasley, occasionally, giving answers or corrections for some of his work. The bell rung, Draco gathered his stuff and waited for her to get hers. When Draco turned to go, she called him.
He turned. "Yes?"
"Do you… want to talk, or something? Later?" She was looking at him with a confused and hurt look, somehow.
"Why would I— About what?"
"I don't know. Anything. About what happened this morning."
"I had the feeling it was about that. There's nothing to talk about, Weasley, if it's about this morning." He turned to go, but she walked up and stopped in front of him.
"How about— about us? About, you know, you and me."
"What about us? There's nothing about that too. You, Weasley and, I, Malfoy. Nothing left to it." He stepped aside to go, but she blocked him with that look on her face. What is it with her?
"Don't you—," she took a deep breath before continuing, "Kiss me."
"What…" Draco stared at her, peering into her eyes for any sign of deceit. "…for? What for?"
"I need to know, Dra—Malfoy."
"Know what?"
"That is not for you to know. Just do it, Malfoy."
"I don't go and kiss people just for principles, Weasley. Or for favours. Tell me, why. Why do want me to kiss you?"
"I told you," she answered. "I need to know."
"You need to know what?"
"We're back at the start. Just do it, Malfoy."
"And I told you I don't kiss people--."
"Don't give me that crap, Malfoy."
"I won't if you tell me why."
"You're really giving me craps? I cannot believe this. I'm asking you to kiss me. Is that so hard? It isn't as if you haven't done it before this."
"Asking, hu? How long it will be until you beg?"
"Just do it, Malfoy."
"Why don't you start first? You're the one--,"
"Just do it."
"—who wanted it—,"
"Malfoy."
"Is today not a perfect day?"
"Why are you being such a snoot?"
"I'm a snoot because I won't kiss you? Brilliant logic, Professor. "
"Fine!" She yelled and threw up her hands. "If you are going to be a complete arse about it, then, I take it back," she closed her eyes for a second, "I didn't say anything. You didn't hear anything. We had turned to go and gone. This conversation never took place." She gave him a cold glare before turned to go. He watched her stalk to the castle, but after a few steps she pivoted back and glared, colder than ever, at him.
"You know what? I don't take it back. Kiss me," she pointed a finger downward, "Now." She demanded. Draco was shocked. Is this the braveness the Gryffindors always boasting about. It certainly surprised, amused, him. But he won't be like Potter. He wasn't that desperate. He won't. So…
Draco dipped his head just enough to left his lips mere inch away from her, hands going up her arms, before…
"No," he said. "I won't."
Weasley gapped open her half-closed eyes, took a step back and looked at him with astonishment. Clearly she expected he would answer-- he would not answer, other than that. "What?"
"I won't kiss you," he answered succinctly. He drew back and smirked. "Now, I am late for my class. You will excuse me."
Draco left her there, disbelief drummed out words in her wake.
---
A/N- You know what to do. Review!