Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews. Extra thanks to the reviewers whose reviews took me more than two seconds to read. (I love long reviews, ones that offer me advice on the storyline, to improve my writing, criticism, characterizations, even ramble if you must.)

P.S. It's May! My birthday month.

Chapter Eight

Dumbledore & Devising

I leaned back into my chair, a lazy smirk at my lips. I swung my legs up and placed my foot on the edge of Dumbledore's desk. The old coot was not here as of yet, he was probably trying to lure some poor first or second year girls into his trap. Would you like some lemon drops? Then a twinkle in his eye and a kind smile and the whole bloody world is just fine because he is so damn wise and nice that everybody is supposed to believe him.

They would never think he'd do something terrible. Oh no, of course not. Everybody is supposed to take his word for everything because everything he said was right even if he talked in circles and people often wondered what the hell he is talking about half the time. He lets you struggle and nearly kill yourself to death and in the end, when you're finally bloody bruised; he reveals the whole damn story. Who is eviler? Dumbledore or Voldemort? Talk about torture. Dumbledore makes my head hurt.

Potter and Weasley were still shooting me looks of pure venom. I supposed they were that upset about the poster... Haha.

"Malfoy, get your disgusting feet off Dumbledore's desk!" Granger shoved my feet aside, nearly making me tip over my chair. She was sitting next to me.

"Granger that was uncalled for." I said scathingly, situating myself comfortably into the chair. "Where is the bloody coot anyways?"

"He's coming soon." Daria said, massaging her swollen cheek. I was surprised that she was still talking to me after I nearly sent her head backwards.

"I hope you get your arse kicked out Malfoy." Weasley muttered hatefully. He looked absolutely ridiculous with his black eye, bloody and engorged mouth that I could not help but snicker.

"Dumbledore wouldn't dare kick me out. I'm Head-Boy and a Malfoy. I could have your family live in sewers if not for the bloody hovel you're in now."

Weasley leaped up from his chair and attempted to jump towards me. His assault was hindered by Potter and Daria, stopping him in time before he did any more damage to my face.

"Draco, stop messing with Mr. Weasley." Daria scowled or rather, tried to, because her swollen cheek just made her face look lopsided.

"He started it! No one messes with a Malfoy!"

"A Malfoy?" Granger gave a dry laugh. "No offense to you Professor Malfoy," She said quickly to Daria. She turned back to me. "Malfoy, you can't keep using your name to get everything you want. Malfoy or not, you're just like every one of us. Human—no, scratch that, a breathing creature. As Homo sapiens, we are all inclined to different attributes, but we're all equal regardless of our surnames."

I blinked.

"So if you please, stop saying 'a Malfoy' as if saying that entitles you to certain preferences that we are denied from. Everyone should have equality and that includes house elves..."

Oh bloody hell. Here she goes...

"...blah...blah...blah...justice... equal treatment... llamas."

I blinked again.

"Malfoy, have you been listening to anything I have been saying?" Granger asked, infuriated.

"Of course."

"What was I saying?"

"Bullshit."

She glared at me.

What? Did I say something wrong?

"It is not bollocks." She huffed indignantly. "You are just too narrow-minded and so highly opinionated that you refused to see properly."

"Like I said, bullshit."

"Hermione," Potter said. "Just give up. Malfoy is too stupid to understand. He is not as kindhearted as you."

"Thank the stars. I think I would carve my heart out if I was."

"Isn't Madame Pomfrey supposed to be here now?" Daria asked, possibly trying to divert the conversation somewhere else.

"I'm sorry I was not here sooner!"

Speaking of the witch.

Pomfrey came into the room, huffing and puffing. "Mr. Longbottom had a terrible accident and I had to repair his arm first." She surveyed the faces in the room. "Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy, what happened? Ms. Malfoy, you too?"

"Children these days, always fighting. Can't settle anything without a fist and a bloody face, huh? I tell you, in my days, we resort to talking out our problems." She said, cleaning up Weasley's face and gave him a packet of magicked ice. "Not all of this fighting. Mr. Weasley, hold it firmly on your eye."

When she had gotten to me, I noticed that her lips faintly curled in disgust. I always knew the Medi-Witch was not particularly fond with me. I must say I'm surprised she has not injected poison into my bloodstream while trying to cure me.

By the time Pomfrey was done healing everyone, Dumbledore had finally came.

"Ah, truly sorry I'm late. Student traffic." He smiled. It sent shivers up my spine... and down.

"Now what seems to be the problem?"

"Perhaps Malfoy would like to explain." Potter sent a glare my way.

I shrugged my shoulders and went with my side of the story. "Well it was rumored that Potter and Weasley were shagging each other and—"

"We were not!" Weasley interrupted. "He's lying—the bloody git!

"Mr. Weasley, if you calm down please and let Mr. Malfoy continue." Dumbledore said.

"Granger and I happened to catch them in the act today and it just so happens some fellow Hufflepuffs saw Potter's and Weasley's advertisement for a club and they wanted to join." I said. "All of a suddenly, Weasley attacked me. I punched him, but Daria suddenly appeared out of nowhere and I hit her instead. Now we're here."

"I see." The coot nodded his decomposing head. "Now Mr. Potter, if you please."

Adjusting his ridiculously looking cheap glasses, Potter said his side. "Ron and I were definitely NOT shagging each other." He sent a glare my way before continuing. "Over the summer, during my short stay at the Dursleys', I found a tattoo—"

"There goes that tappoo again." I sighed, exasperated.

"It's called a TATTOO!" Potter screamed.

"Whatever."

"Anyways, I found a tattoo pen that used to belong to Dudley. I knew electronic Muggle objects did not work in the Wizard World, so I adjust it so it could inject ink in the skin if you poke in and out of the skin fast enough."

"Potter, before I turn fifty please."

Potter ignored me. "I showed it to Ron and he said he wanted to try it. I drew a picture of a lion on Ron's back. Turns out, he couldn't take all of the pain and he was groaning a lot. That is where he," He indicated his head towards me. "heard what he thought was..." Potter shuddered. "Me and Ron shagging... Then the bloke had the nerve to go around posting on the walls that Ron and I was opening a club for men! Gay men!"

"Is this true Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked me.

"I was merely doing them a favor." I said nonchalantly. "If you heard them, Professor, you've have thought the same thing. Ask Granger, she was there with me."

Dumbledore turned to Granger. She immediately straightened her back and sat up in her chair. "Eh..." A blush crept up to her cheeks as she fidgeted with her skirt. "I'm afraid I have to side with Malfoy spite of my dislike for him. It was a moment when I thought..."

"Thank you Miss Granger, you don't have to continue." Dumbledore gave another smile. "It all seems to be a misunderstanding. No one is hurt, well you all have been healed anyways, so if that is all, please return to your businesses."

"Professor, what about the fight? You aren't going to punish Malfoy?" Weasley asked.

"Mr. Weasley, you were the one to attack him first?"

Weasley sheepishly nodded.

"Technically, Mr. Weasley, you have started the fight. Mr. Malfoy is not at fault."

Weasley was affronted by my big cheesy grin. Ha! For once, the old coot was on my side!

"This is still the beginning of the school year. Let's start off with a clean slate, shall we?" Dumbledore said.

Everyone reluctantly nodded.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, a word please."

I walked out with Granger and Daria.

"Now about... what's that again? Oh, now about that tattoo... Does it hurt that much? Because I wonder..."

Dumbledore's voice died out as I reached farther down the stairs. Crazy old coot.

"Severus has told you about the adjoining project, yes?" Daria asked once we left the stairs.

"Yes." Granger said.

I walked on, mumbling about greasy hair and crow-laughter not mixing together.

"This project is extremely important. I cannot exaggerate the significance of it towards your grade as it shall take months to complete it."

"I understand Professor Malfoy."

"Please, call me Daria. I already told you on the first day of class."

"Yes Prof—I mean, Daria."

I rolled my eyes. Honestly... women!

"The significance towards our grade?" Granger asked.

"Yes, yes." said Daria. "As well as its significance towards my class. You'll see, in the end I'll explain everything. Now as Head-Girl and Head-Boy, I need you and Draco to help me get the supplies needed for the potion because well, Severus does not have all of them."

"When will we be getting them?"

"Whenever you have time."

"In that case," I said. "That'll be never. I afraid I'm such a busy person. It won't be possible. With class work and everything..."

"Oh, don't worry." Daria flashed a grin. "Severus will lighten up the workload for you two."

My mouth nearly dropped. Snape? Giving us less work? What in the bloody hell is going on?

"I still don't know what this potion is for." I said, pouting.

"Just get the ingredients first." Daria said. "When it's time to make the potion—which won't be very long... maybe in a month to two months' time, I'll explain everything. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise now?" She gave me a wink.

I cringed.

She was absolutely delirious.

"I'll have the list of ingredients needed by Monday morning. See me after class!" With that, my crazy aunt ran off to Merlin-knows-where.

Plotting against me... Everyone is plotting against me...

I know Weasel will definitely be calling his twin brothers to help for his vengeance. Potter will be doing something too...

Dumbledore—that blundering crack of a man. Letting me stay with Granger for an entire month... Bloody bastard.

Daria—that woman has been against me ever since the day I was born. Humiliating me... I shuddered, recalling a familiar scenario when I was four that involved Halloween and a pink bunny outfit.

"Thinking a bit much, Malfoy?"

"Yes... and that surprises you?"

"Frankly, I am."

"How? If you thought getting the second best grades did not require thinking..."

"Oh?" Granger perked up, smiling. Damn! I just compliment the wench without knowing it.

"So you admit that a mudblood is smarter than you."

"I admit that I let a mudblood has surpassed me in grades, but I will not admit she is smarter than me because she is not."

"Denial." Granger sighed.

"A mudblood can never surpass a pureblood."

"Sometimes I'm just tired of it. I'm tired of being called a mudblood, even though I got over it, it still irks me till this day."

"Can't help you there." I said, examining my perfectly manicured nails with interest.

"Malfoy!"

Urgh. I have a little dirt under the pinkie.

"MALFOY!"

"What?" I looked up, annoyed. "Tired of being a mudblood? Oh well, can't do much about it."

"I wish you stop calling me that. I'm not ashamed of being from Muggle parents, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I was pureblooded."

I considered it for a minute. "Nah, can't imagine you as so."

"Really?" Granger wondered. "I guess not. I might turn out to be a sissy little spoiled rotten prat like you. That would be awful—truly awful."

Annoyed by her comment, I flung the piece of dirt under my pinkie at her.

Monday morning.

I was lying on my bed, watching Granger walk around our room. She was fascinating... really... in that sort of weird way. Like watching ants crawl around in the dirt while you're wondering how they look so small, but inside their mind, it's complex and full of intricacies.

I didn't really see her in a new light.

Maybe an ant.

But not some shining light that lures me over.

Gods, definitely not.

And I can still squash her under my foot.

Like an ant.

Perhaps I'm being too much of a bastard, but I'm Draco Malfoy. That's my only reason.

However, there was something different about her that I've noticed. Her hair is... bushier than usual... if that was possible.

What happened to the luscious waves that fell in curls I had seen on the train ride on the first day of school?

"Granger, you need a makeover." I said suddenly. "Not for the sake of yourself, but for the sake of everyone else having to look at you everyday in your unruly hairstyle and oversized robes."

"A makeover?" Granger stopped what she was doing. She looked a little stun at my words and I was naturally going to assume that she was going to get infuriated. On the contrary to my belief, she did not get mad at all. "I know I'm not that horrible looking, thank you very much. And if I did wanted to get a makeover and since you believe I need one, then I have to tell you, I simply can't."

"Why not?" I was thinking relatively along the line of her saying that she did not want to look 'pretty' or that was against her standards or some other bull she usually deals me with.

"Because," She took a deep breath and said in artificial sadness as she placed her hand over her chest in what supposedly was a pity-me-gesture. "I don't have an American cousin since they seemed to be all the rage with makeovers and everything. I heard that from Lavender." She added that quickly.

"My makeover would be entirely impossible since I don't have a female cousin in good ol' U S of A. Unless I give myself a makeover and revamp my wardrobe to nothing but tank tops and mini-skirts, I might end up looking like a horrendous half-naked clown."

I thought about it. She did have a point and her answer was quite reasonable.

"I suppose you're right." I told her. "You really don't have much assets to fill out the tank tops and mini-skirts. Lest we become traumatized for what's hiding beneath those robes, I take back my remark. "

Granger gave a dry laugh. "You're hilarious. Really. You are." She walked out of the room.

I swung my legs over my bed and followed her out. She was an interesting specimen. If not the mudblood... she is still an ant—with a brilliant mind. But I'll never admit that.

Author's Note: I was planning Daria's curriculum, her lessons and the order in which she is supposed to teach each topic. Damn, I feel like such a teacher. Maybe in the end, you'll learn something—or maybe not.

On another note:

American cousins. Just wanted to add that. Ha. –Laughs dryly–

So review, review, review. It shows that my efforts of trying to write a decent story won't go to waste.