A/N: Welcome back! Still in my ill delirium, but hopefully this won't turn out too badly. Much love and thanks to Nathonea and SailorZelda for inspiring/encouraging this story. R and R! Some new stuff and revisions are in there.

I arrived back in the common room late. It was after hours, really, but I wasn't seen, so it didn't matter. Blessings abounded as I found that Pansy had already retired for the night and I wouldn't see her until tomorrow's potions class. If I was careful, I might be able to avoid her for as long as half of a day. She would be sure to find me at lunch, but I had to rely on Granger to get me that letter before then. It made me ill to think that I was relying on a mudblood. That term is very, well, odd. I hadn't thought about it before with respect to an actual person. It seemed…different. It had changed somehow. When had I even begun using it? It's so hard to control my tongue, especially when I'm surrounded by such incompetent wizardry.

I got up early again, painful as it was to drag myself out of the warm bed on such a cold morning. (With the early morning was a Pansy-free dining hall.) I did not want her to be there when my morning post arrived - or rather, didn't. When I sat down to eggs and sausage, I glanced over to the Gryffindor table to find Weasley - not the Weaslette, Ronald Weasley - talking to Granger. He seemed to find the entire affair between her and Harry most distressing, but she did not seem very concerned at that particular moment. She seemed to resent the fact that it was his sister who stole precious Potter away from her. All the better, I suppose. I only hoped that Weasley would not bumble the entire plan. He seems to have this annoying habit of butting in exactly where he is not wanted. However, their conversation ended in Weasley getting up resignedly and going over to sit with Potter and the Weaslette, who of course were the oh-so-cheerful, typical in-love couple. Googly-eyes and all.

The sausage suddenly tasted entirely too salty.

Granger caught my eye and then looked pointedly out into the corridor. Wolfing the rest of the eggs and leaving what was left of the sausage, I stood and left the hall. A few minutes later - did I mention how long a few minutes are when it is cold? - Granger emerged from the hall and handed me a letter. The heading on the address looked remarkably similar to my father's. Astoundingly so.

I was about to open it right then when she stopped me.

"I would kind of like to know what you wrote," I said. I could feel my lip curl up in disgust. Really, she seems to bring out the worst in me. No, wait, correction-Potter does.

"If you open it right in front of Pansy, then she won't be as likely to think that it is a forgery. Open it now, and for all she knows, you could have written it." She seemed very dispirited, in spite of the revenge she would have in a few days' time. Well, at least the knowledge that she did not like the prospects of working together any more than I was…nice.

At that point, I noticed how much she fidgets. How distracting. She's almost twitchy. How many character flaws can one person have? It was enough to make me want to just yell out, Hold still for just TWO SECONDS! But of course, I didn't. Proper breeding prevents one from making outrageous mistakes such as that. Unfortunately.

Why is it that Granger, the tool with which I will get to Potter, must possess every single one of my pet peeves! I didn't even notice until we were within close proximity. Eyes on the prize, eyes on the prize, eyes on the prize!

I had to content myself with waiting until lunch to open the letter. Of course I waited for Pansy to sit down before I grandly swept it out and flourished it at her. Breaking the seal, I turned my attention to the contents. After reading through the contents, I smugly passed it to Pansy, who sat a ways down the bench on my left.

Dear Draco,

In response to your query as to accompanying young Miss Granger to the ball, I assume you have your own reasons for your choice. Though we are rather surprised and somewhat in confusion, your mother and I wish you an enjoyable evening. However, I do hope you shall select company of a higher class in the next social event at school.

Sincerely,

Lucius Malfoy

While the letter was not really at all what one could expect from my father, were he asked such a degrading question, it was passable in that it looked quite a bit like his writing, style-wise. She also managed to get his signature so close to perfect, I could hardly tell the difference, and Pansy, not at all. She accepted the paper with a smug look on her face, which was quickly displaced by shock and disbelief, followed by something akin to disgust. Yet I could tell she was taken in by it. Excellent.

Well, at least Granger's good for something.

Lunch was thoroughly enjoyable as it passed in a quiet murmur emanating from the other tables. No clamorous blathering from Pansy, who had slid her way along down the bench as far away as possible, and now sat decidedly pouting.

The satisfaction of getting out of the predicament of the letter was soon replaced with dread and loathing, as I found an "anonymous" note appear inside my History of Magic textbook, saying that my waltz still needed improvement and that I had better do well at the next day's ball prep class.

I didn't. It was dreadful, but the way McGonagall - old crone that she is - kept criticizing every mistake in front of the whole class, was enough to make some of the students cry. One Gryffindor girl burst into tears and ran from the room. A fourth-year Slytherin went into the corner and moped for the rest of the class after his turn.

When my turn came it started out fine. But the way McGonagall looked as we began to dance in the 1-2-3 pattern around the open floor caught me off-guard. I could just tell she was looking for an excuse to criticize me. And she found it.

After a dozen or so bars, I misstepped, absolutely crushing her minute toes inside her pointy little shoes. Those shoes really do her justice-all angular and sharp. They make her feet look like giant thorns off of a rosebush.

Of course my mistake threw the entire rhythm off for me, as she tried to recover and I simply tried not to do it again. Well, it did happen again. And again. And again. In fact, it happened a total of six times before she finally called a halt and I was able to slink back to my seat. Looking across the room, I notice Granger with her head in her hands. Just great. That was exactly what I needed. A mudblood looking down on me…that word again. It's starting to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Nasty.

Well anyway, I received another "anonymous" note via textbook telling me to go to the last classroom at the west end of the second floor corridor after dinner. Wearily, I sat down to eat and found some roast pork to relieve my fatigue. This whole Yule ball thing was turning out to be almost too much trouble. Eyes on the prize.

I lingered at dinner, not really wanting to go and meet that terror of a girl, but eventually I felt it was time to leave. Especially since Pansy had taken to talking to me again - in an attempt, I suppose, to "win me back" from Granger. Currently she was going on about how long Potter and Granger were together, etc. etc. (Perhaps Granger wasn't the most annoying girl I knew…)

How disgusting! She chews with her mouth open. And she talks at the same time. Or rather, she attempts to talk at the same time. As I observed the mangled piece of pork bouncing and rolling around in her mouth, my stomach churned and suddenly I no longer had an appetite. Absolutely appalling, her etiquette.

I finally couldn't take any more of Pansy and decided that anything – even Granger – would be better than remaining where I was. So, I stood and left, without so much as a word to Pansy. The look of shock and disdain on her face as I steadily walked out of the hall was refreshing. At least something could shut her up.

A/N: I tried not to make this one so long. Anyhow, some things have not reached my beta yet, but hopefully there won't be any qualms, or few at most, when they do. Maybe. Much love for SZ!