Desrosiers: Sorry about the wait guys! Been busy with my HP Message Board: http:www.veritaserum.us.tt. Check it out if you want to! Now, on with the story. Thank you so much to all my reviewers, your kind words mean a lot to me. This chapter is dedicated to you guys!

A Smirk is Worth a Thousand Words - Chapter 2: Boiling Blood

Draco could hear the faint beeping sound of his alarm, and pulled the pillow tighter over his ears. He had to avoid this as long as he could, even if it meant spending his life in his bed.

He knew he had to face it sometime, and the longer he put it off, the harder it rained down on him. He had spent the weekend in bed, and today being Monday, he would have to go to classes.

Draco slowly slid the pillow off of his head, the light flooding his eyes as though someone had stuck a flashlight in the back of his head. He groaned loudly, ripped the sheets off him, and tumbled out of bed.

The moment he stepped foot on the cold wood floor, he felt as is a brick had been plummeted into his stomach. Something Draco had never felt before, something he saw almost everyday, but never had it occurred to him what it felt like. Draco Malfoy was scared.

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15 minutes later, he was sitting at the Slytherin table, completely silent, trying to avoid the Quidditch Team's glares. Every now and then, there were a few sniggers, and pointing fingers, but Draco kept his gaze down at his toast. The toast seemed to get extremely boring after a while, and to Draco's relief, the school bell rang, signaling the start of the first class that day.

Draco rushed off to Care of Magical Creatures, looking over his shoulder every now and then for the Slytherins. He picked up the pace, running faster and faster down the steps and onto the grounds, his head still facing the opposite way looking for his other house members.

He hadn't seen it coming—He smacked right into Harry and they both stumbled to the floor.

"Watch where you're going, Potter." Draco growled, heaving himself off the floor and not bothering to help Harry up, as it usually was.

Draco brushed off his robes, and looked over Harry's shoulder. The Slytherins were coming.

Draco's eyes bulged and he ran for Hagrid's hut as fast as he could, his feet splattering all over the damp grass.

Now if you were a bystander watching this, and you knew of Draco's reputation, then you would be extremely confused by now. Draco was rushing to the one class he complained the most about, to the teacher he considered unworthy to be given such a title, and to the people he dispised the most – Gryffindors. But Draco ran faster, his feet pounding against the ground, as he picked up his pace even more. I mean, this boy could win a marathon they way he was going.

He had to get there first. He had to stay out of view. Draco slowed down to a jog as he neared Hagrids hut.

Panting, he slammed his bag down on the floor and slumped down beside it. And then he heard it.

"Oi, twinkle toes!" He could hear the Slytherins snickering and whispering among themselves.

Draco let out a long sigh, and heaved himself off the ground, turning to face Flint.

"You wanna run that by me again, bucktooth?" Draco gave him the coldest look anyone could ever receive. If looks could only kill, Draco kept repeating to himself.

"Ohhh, getting a little heated now, twinkletoes?

"The name is Malfoy. Draco. Malfoy."

"Oh, must we curse, twinketoes? Don't think you can handle the pressure?"

"I can handle a bloody well lot more than you think I can, Flint." Draco could feel the blood pumping through his veins.

"Oh, is that right?" Flint gave a toothy smile, exposing his disgustingly crooked teeth.

"Yes." Draco gritted his teeth as his blood pumped even harder. He clenched his fist as tight as they would go, and he could feel his fingernails digging into his flesh.

"Aw, am I pissing little twinkle toes off?" Flint smirked and crossed his arms. "Does little twinky want daddy?"

Draco could swear his face was probably purple. "Get out of here Flint. This isn't your class."

"Oh, but I wanted to stay and watch you squirm." Flint put on his best pouting face, but apparently couldn't hold it for long. He snickered and fought to keep his mouth shut, but, he burst out laughing. The Slytherin Quidditch team being his minions, they followed suit.

For once in his life, Draco felt relief to hear Hagrid's voice beginning class.

"Flint, what'er ya doin' here? Get ter class."

That was the first time Draco had ever heard a stern word come out of Hagrid's mouth, and at the time, was very glad of it.

Flint shot one last warning look at Draco, and shuffled off with the rest of the Quidditch Team.

Draco sank to the back of the crowd to watch the lesson. He appeared to be watching Hagrid, but was secretly consumed in his 'drama.'

What if it didn't work out? What if he didn't go to the dance with Hermione? Worst off, what if his father found out?

It was times like these when Draco wished he hadn't snickered all through Snape's lesson of love potions. He actually needed it.

Draco sighed loudly, receiving looks from surrounding house mates.

As much as he hated to admit it, Draco needed help. And there was only one person who could help him.

Harry Potter.