Draco had been shocked to find that as soon as he'd tried to tuck into his breakfast he was being dragged away by the screaming captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and shoved to the exit in the great hall, Pansy and Blaise staring after them in confusion.

"Malfoy, you shit! What's with you? You've never missed practice! Where the fuck's your kit? You do realise we have a match in 2 hours! Where the fuck have you been?" He spat into Draco's face. Poor Draco tried not to cringe.

Where had he been? Hmm… Well, the first thing that came to his mind was the image of him dancing in the dorm as he got dressed and singing into his hairbrush. But he wasn't sure whether an explanation involving 'I'm so pretty' would do him any good. So he just shrugged and studied his nails, acting as though he was not interested.

"Well, here's the thing, Draco," The captain said talking calmly to him; Draco ignored the fact he was talking to him as though he was an infant. "Well, there are 7 players on a Quidditch team and it just so happens that includes you, the seeker, now Draco; I know you probably don't know this… BUT YOU'RE THE GOD DAMNED MOST IMPORTANT PLAYER! NO SEEKER, NO GAME! SO GET YOUR SCRAWNY ARSE INTO THE LOCKER ROOMS AND I EXPECT TO SEE YOU ON THE PITCH, IN FULL UNIFORM IN 10 MINUTES!" And with that he stormed off leaving Draco with a strange expression on his face.

"YEH… WELL…" Draco was lost for words. "MAYBE I DON'T WANNA PUT ON MY UNIFORM, EVER THINK OF THAT, EY!" He yelled to the retreating back of his captain. "MAYBE IM TO SEXY FOR YOUR GAY UNIFORM!" Draco yelled, leaning back against the doorway, everyone at the house tables staring at him.

Tingle…

Swirl….

"Shit." Draco walked out the hall singing, "I'm too sexy for your shirt, and to sexy for your shirt so sexy it hurts! And I'm too sexy for your…" Unsurprisingly, the entire hall thought he had gone mad.

Hermione woke up on Saturday morning, silently willing her day to end already. She couldn't be bothered with facing anyone at the moment, and it was only ten am.

Last night when she had finally got back to her dorm, minus the help of that Zabini bloke and Malfoy; she had showered changed and went to bed early. But her dreams had been plagued with a Slytherin boy, some poems wrote in blood and Harry and Ron yelling at her telling her it was all her fault. But her faceless Slytherin Mystery Boy had just been repeating in that hushed tone she recognised him by.

"Hermione, it's all a misunderstanding, it is nobody's fault. You've all got it wrong!"

Hermione, suddenly remembering this, sat up in bed. Why had those words stood out so clearly in her head? The mystery boy had said something similar to her yesterday.

"Maybe it's neither of you and it's a misunderstanding," She repeated his words from last night. Surely, he couldn't be right? But Hermione knew her subconscious often picked up things, never letting her forget things or the smallest of details. Maybe, just maybe this mystery boy was right.

And with that she jumped out of bed and started heading for the library. Thankfully, she remembered to get dressed into something more… well… anything but her pyjamas.

Draco was never nervous when flying, he absolutely loved it. But today, he was scared out of his wits. Not because of the match but because of the flying. Every time he tried to even touch his broom a familiar tingle swept over his voice box and a swirl twisted it's way though his stomach. So he was still sat in the locker room, fully uniformed with all the necessary protective Quidditch armour strapped to his body. He gazed down at his gloved hands… his shaking gloved hands.

"That's it! I can't do it! Morgan, MORGAN!" Draco yelled walking onto the pitch.

"Draco, I explained this earlier. But sorry, my mistake I forget to tell you! YOU NEED A BROOM TO FLY!" The furious captain barked at Draco, his eyes following the other players doing laps around the pitch.

"Look Morgan." He said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Look, I really don't think I can play today. I'm not feeling so good, I just," Draco couldn't speak anymore. His soul expression was making everything so hard for him and now he was getting emotional. Malfoy's don't get emotional!

"Malfoy, you ARE playing this match! And don't you dare turn on the waterworks! What are you, a Deatheater or a dark lord?"

"You'll get yourself killed using that expression. I advise you stick to the muggle 'man or mouse' thing." Draco pointed out, his arrogance returning to him.

"Draco, just answer my question!" Morgan said exasperated he was so tired with Draco. And he was rapidly losing his patience with the boy.

"Neither, I want to be my own person." Draco mumbled.

"Well, sorry to inform you it doesn't work that way. There are two types of people, the Deatheaters, those influenced by people, people who do as they are told, just get on with life. And there are the dark lords; the ones who influence people and stand up for what they believe and will do anything to get what they want. Now what are you?"

"What about the Gryffindors? They aren't death eaters or dark lords. Why can't I be one of them?" Draco slipped before he could stop himself.

"Draco, it's a figure of speech but if it makes you feel better then take Potter for example, he's a dark lord. Well, not literally, but he leads and influences people, he takes charge and does what he needs to do. Understand? Now, what are you? Best hurry up and decide, but either way you're playing this match. If you're a Deatheater you'll get your arse into gear and if you're a dark lord you know I'm right. Now scram! Get your broom!" Morgan yelled, turning his attention back to the team. He hadn't left the discussion open for Draco. Draco sighed.

He walked down the pitch and back into the locker room, cursing the whole way. But he wasn't a 'Deatheater' or a 'Dark lord' he was his own person and it just so happened this person was infected with a Soul Expression. Draco smirked as he closed his hand around his broom and a familiar feeling into his stomach.

Hermione was sat in the library surrounded by books on confusion and memory loss, because after all it was the only thing she could pin point wrong at the moment. She was sat at a table staring out at the Quidditch pitch. She knew there was a game on today, Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff she thought, not positive though. Harry and Ron would both be there, she knew that and that was one of the reasons she didn't go. Well she didn't need to really; she knew that Malfoy would catch the snitch anyway. He always did, well unless he was up against Harry then he didn't stand a chance. She couldn't help but smile at that thought.

She looked back down at the text in front of her, to her dismay she was still at the table of content. She hadn't been sure what to read and it would be such a… task to read it all. As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn't be bothered.

That was another thing she couldn't understand lately. She was always exhausted and she just couldn't be bothered with doing things. Okay, that was lie, she always felt like that, but the weird thing was that was now when she was tired she slept and when she couldn't be bothered she just didn't do it.

Yesterday, after Harry and Ron had left her, she had gone up to her dorm meaning to revise but she just… didn't. She wanted to but it was almost as though her body was disobeying her commands. Which was impossible, she knew that. But it just felt that way.

Another thing, these past few days it felt as if all she did was sleep. That night she was ill, she'd slept from around eight until 10:50 then a huge chunk of her memory was missing but she woke at eight am. And when Ron and Harry made her have the day off and she'd slept from ten am until at least four! After meeting mystery boy she'd managed to sleep from nine last night until ten this morning, she couldn't understand it.

Maybe she should just go and see Pomfrey. Then she remembered her reaction to finding her and Draco in bed together, that was only two short days ago, and just… no.

"Maybe not then." Hermione then went to get another book.

Meanwhile at the Quidditch match Draco was having the time of his life! Currently he was dancing while balancing on his broom. He'd stolen the commentator's microphone and was enjoying singing to his 'audience' desperately trying to get Madam Hooch to dance with him.

"Come fly with me! Lets fly lets fly away!" Draco sang in his classy pretty impressive voice, wiggling his eyebrows at Madam Hooch. "Oh come on Hoochy! Lighten up!" he said grabbing her arm.

"Mr. Malfoy!" She struggled and blew her whistle but the players carried on playing and Draco carried on singing.

"If you could use some exotic booze…" Draco was really milking the crowd, everyone was finding it hilarious. Well… apart from Pansy.

"Surely, headmaster! Can you tell Mr. Malfoy to stop this nonsense?" Madam Hooch declared flying up to the teachers stand.

"Actually... No. There is nothing in the rules that say the seeker cannot use singing or dancing as a diversion so really all we can do is sit back and watch." Albus said calmly.

"ALBUS!" Minerva McGonagall scolded. "I'm sure I know what is wrong with Mr. Malfoy and you are encouraging it! Stop him this instant!"

"Fair point professor…" He sighed, standing up. "Mr. Malfoy!" No answer, Draco continued. "MR. MALFOY!"

"Fly, let's fly away…"

"MR MALFOY! WOULDN'T PROFESSOR SNAPE LOOK CHARMING IN A TUTU?" This certainly caught Draco's attention and bought him out of his expression so fast he almost fell off his broom.

Professor Dumbledore motioned for him to follow him. He needed to speak to him anyway and some other students. Albus hated to admit it, but he needed their help.

"I'm Too Sexy" is a song by English trio Right Said Fred from their album Up. "Come Fly with Me" is a 1957 popular song composed by Jimmy Van Heusen, with lyrics by Sammy Cahn. "Come Fly with Me" was written for Frank Sinatra, and was the title track of his 1958 album of the same name.

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