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Chapter Three

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Draco's POV

What the hell is up with me? Why am I stuttering like some kind of headless chicken? Okay, I've always enjoyed my own company, but it was going fine between me and Weasley, switching insults, until Granger came in. It was like all the fight had gone out of me. I actually went a sentence without saying 'Mudblood' to her. Exactly. It's complete crap, that's what it is.

When my father hears about this….

Or maybe not. I've found that my father can be annoying at times. Never spoiling me enough. He gets tiresome at times. Won't ever let me bring girls home. Thinks he's bigger than me, just because he got the mark first. Well, I'd just like to say that he isn't Voldemort's favourite person right now. Neither am I - and trust me, I have no desire to be - but Snape is, and Snape's on my side. HAH. One up on you, Father.

When I resurfaced from Pansy, I realised Granger had tapped me on the shoulder. And I didn't wash straight afterwards? God. Maybe I'm coming down with a cold?

I push Pansy away and struggle in super quick time into my robes, and then hurry after Granger and Weasley. I'll show them. Just got to catch up. I whip my wand out of my jeans pocket, ready to fire a hex at Granger just to prove that I'm not going crazy, but they're lost to sight. Great. I board one of the carriages impatiently, knowing that Pansy is quick on my tail, and soon I'll have my lap full again.

I never use to tire of her attention. Not until now, anyway. Not until Granger turned up, anyway. My insides churn at the thought of her name.

Oh. My. God.

It couldn't be that, right? I've fancied girls before, but the Mudblood's my frickin' worst enemy's best friend! I mean, who wouldn't fancy girls? And then again, who would fancy Miss Insufferable Know-It-All? Not me. Nope. Definitely not me. I gotta wash. NOW. Hell, where's the sink in these carriages? Argh! I can see her frickin' teeth now, when she told me I was a sink-plunger. And her eyes.

Argh!

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

She told me I was a sink-plunger. It's funny, 'cause I find that offensive, but I'm feeling kind of happy, too. Like it's brilliant that she actually she talked to me. In fact - she touched me, too. A tap on the shoulder. Hm.

She couldn't have slipped me some kind of Love potion, right?

Oh no. I thought the 'L' word. When you begin thinking that, you know it's bad, right? Really. Bad. I hope Voldemort kills me soon. I know, I'll do something stupid. Really stupid. And then he'll have no choice, and then I won't have to keep reliving that glorious, wonderful moment in third year when she punched me in the face.

Somebody help me. Now.

Pansy plonks herself on the seat beside me, eyes glittering, and the horseless carriage begins to move.

"What did you hurry off for, Draco?"

"I wanted to hex the Mudblood," I snarl. "But she was already in one of the carriages." Oh, god. I wanted to hex someone, but it wasn't Granger. Pansy, perhaps.

"That's a pity," mutters Pansy. "Anyhow, why are you back at Hogwarts? Why aren't you with the Great Lord? I thought you said this place was too small for your ambitions."

I struggle uncomfortably. Where to begin, where to begin?

"You may have noticed our dear friend Potter wasn't present today," I start. "The Dark Lord believes he has some knowledge to his position, and he needs my help from inside Hogwarts. Hogwarts never got round to expelling me last year, and there's a lot of useful items the Dark Lord wishes to possess. Also, I came back here to see if someone - er, if someone was interested in going out with me."

Where the hell did that come from?

Pansy smiles, a seductive look spreading across her face. "Draco, I thought you would never ask…"

Not you, you blood sucking leech! Granger!

I didn't just think that, right? I didn't just think what I think I did? Oh. My. God. I've got far more important things to do this year than think about girls. I know where Potter was over summer, and I need the tools at Hogwarts to find out his next position. That's the only reason I'm here now, with this insufferable flobberworm of a girl, who spends far too much time giving me flirty looks and not enough time about doing her hair so she looks remotely good-looking. Go out with Pansy Parkinson? It's old news. I just haven't got round to telling her she's dumped.

I open my mouth to tell her to leave me alone, but she's latched on again and I sit there moodily for the rest of the journey. Hogwarts comes into view but Pansy does not notice. I do, though. How could I miss it? Hogwarts is going to play a major part in The Great Lord's domination of the wizarding community, and the murder of Harry Potter. Hopefully.

And my first victim?

Moaning Myrtle.

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