DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.

WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.

A/N: Man, those were some stressful weeks! But leaving that aside ... Hmm, let's see, it's been ... what, about a month since I last updated? ::sweatdrop:: Ehehe, sorry guys, but thanks for being so patient with me. :)

OK, on with the fic!

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE DRACO MALFOY FANCLUB

'Hermione,' Harry said uncertainly, 'what happened between Ron and Malfoy?'

They were on their way to the Great Hall to have lunch before their next class which was Transfiguration. Ron was walking slightly ahead of them, not speaking and his eyes still had not lost the glazed look they had acquired during the Potions class; nor had he said a word to either of his friends yet. They were growing worried.

'I don't know,' Hermione answered in a whisper, her eyes filled with concern as she gazed at the red-head in front of them. 'I didn't see anything. There were no fights, no arguments, nothing!'

'But something must've happened!' Harry insisted. 'Ron doesn't usually act like – like, well, that!' She pointed at the mute Weasley who did not appear to notice anything that was going on around him.

'I know,' Hermione murmured, 'but he just won't speak.'

Harry's eyes narrowed as her train of thoughts led to a possibility. 'If Malfoy had said or done anything ...' she growled and the threat in her tone was audible. Hermione did not answer, but continued to look troubled.

The silence from Ron extended all the way to the Great Hall and he did not utter a word until he had consumed third helpings of shepherd's pie (something which Harry was glad to note since no loss of appetite on Ron's part meant that he was still himself ... a bit). Finally, after finishing off his pumpkin juice, he looked up at Harry and Hermione who were seated directly across from him and declared abruptly, 'Something weird is happening.'

The two girls, who had not been expecting their male companion to speak any time soon, were startled.

'What?' Hermione asked, looking confused.

'Something weird is happening,' Ron repeated clearly, looking from Harry to Hermione and back again meaningfully.

Harry raised her eyebrows at him, and when he did not elaborate, said a little sarcastically, 'You know, Ron, I pretty much figured that myself about half an hour ago.'

Ron frowned at her, his face entirely serious. 'I mean it, mate, there's something going on.'

'Right,' Harry said, 'and I'm guessing that this has something to do with Malfoy.'

Ron nodded slightly and looked down at his empty plate, frowning again. Harry and Hermione watched him for long moments, but he did not speak. Hermione sighed.

'What happened, Ron?' she asked gently.

He shook his head slightly. 'Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but ...' he looked up at them with his face scrunched up in a cute expression of confusion, 'I dunno how to say this, but ... Malfoy ... well, he ... he wasn't ...' he paused, searching for the right words, 'he wasn't acting like himself during Potions.'

Harry and Hermione both blinked in unison. 'What do you mean?' asked the latter.

'I dunno, he was being almost ... nice,' he said the last word with a look of awe on his face as if he were saying something forbidden.

Harry's eyebrows shot sky high. Malfoy – nice?

'He didn't call me Weasel even once, he didn't insult my family, he didn't argue with me; he just talked about the project and suggested ways to do the potion and before the bell rang, he told me to meet him in the library tomorrow night to do research ... you'd think we were almost friends!' Ron still had an awed, disbelieving look on his face.

'Friends?' Harry repeated, deadpanned.

Ron frowned again. 'Well, maybe not friends,' he admitted, 'but maybe ... acquaintances?' He shook his head wildly. 'I'm telling you, having Draco Malfoy sitting beside you and speaking civilly as if he had been doing so all his life – it was bloody scary.'

The mild surprise that had suffused the air around them vanished and Harry laughed, along with Hermione. But even then, the confusion that had seeped in to her mind remained. Draco Malfoy had been civil to Ron? Those were not things that went hand-in-hand. Her friend was right; something weird was happening.

'You know,' Harry said slowly, poking at her food with the fork, 'Malfoy wasn't the only one.'

Ron and Hermione both looked round at her questioningly.

'My partner was being nice, too. And I mean, nice.'

'Who, Zabini?' Ron raised his eyebrows.

'Yeah,' Harry nodded, 'he was really friendly; told me to call him by his first name, too.'

'Really?' murmured Hermione, looking pleased for some reason. There was silence for a few seconds as they all thought about the weird Slytherins.

'Do you think it's a conspiracy?' Ron suddenly asked.

'What?' Harry and Hermione both looked round at him, taken aback.

'Maybe it's some sort of Slytherin plan,' he explained in a confidential whisper to them. 'You know, being nice to us to lure us into a trap or ...'

'Ron,' Hermione groaned, 'you're doing it again! You're stereotyping the Slytherins!'

'What –?' Ron began, looking scandalised, but Hermione cut him off.

'Really, Ron, you have to stop this. Just because they're Slytherins and being civil to us, it doesn't mean that they're conspiring against us!'

'Well, can you blame me?' Ron was defensive. 'All these years, those snakes have not been exactly "nice" to us. And now, all of a sudden, they're acting like we've been best friends forever; how can you blame me for being suspicious?'

Despite Harry being all up for giving Slytherins a chance at friendship now, she could sort of see the sense in his exaggerated words and was about to reply when Hermione snapped, 'It would certainly seem suspicious if they all acted friendly, Ron, but we don't know for sure whether the rest of the Slytherins have been civil to others today; so, you can't possibly say – Seamus, what happened to you?!'

Harry and Ron both turned their heads and saw Seamus, sporting a black eye and a shit-eating grin, and followed by a half-irritated half-amused Dean, approaching them. The Irishman greeted them brightly as he sat down beside Ron. Dean seated himself on his best friend's other side.

'Are you alright?' Harry asked, eyeing Seamus' bruised eye with some concern.

He grinned at her as he helped himself to his lunch. 'Yep.'

'What happened?' asked Hermione, worried despite her housemate's easygoingness.

Seamus just laughed and Dean found himself, once again, in charge of explaining his best friend's twisted mind and actions to their mutual friends. 'Seamus got a little ... overeager while trying to befriend his Slytherin partner after Potions.'

All of them, apart from Seamus who smirked proudly, looked at Dean with questioning eyes.

The dark-skinned teen sighed. 'Millicent Bulstrode thought he was trying to put the moves on her,' he explained bluntly, rolling his eyes at the sandy haired boy on his right.

Understanding dawned upon his friends. 'Ah,' Ron snorted while Harry sniggered into her hand.

'So she punched you in the eye?' Hermione said, looking torn between wanting to laugh and rushing to examine Seamus' injured eye.

'And gave him one heck of a slap round the face,' Dean added with some amusement as he pointed to Seamus' left cheek which had a red mark in the shape of a hand on it. 'We've been told that the sound of that slap was heard two corridors away.'

Ron and Harry laughed uproariously at that while Hermione bit back a smile. 'Are you sure you're not hurt?' she asked Seamus, though it was quite obvious that he was hurt.

Seamus waved her away carelessly. 'I'm fine, Hermione, no big deal.'

Ron looked shrewdly at him. 'You're actually proud of yourself, aren't you?' he remarked, eyeing the arrogant smirk on his face.

The eccentric boy shrugged before grinning brightly. 'Ah, I know she likes me; she just hasn't realised it yet. You wait; she'll be my friend in no time! And ... maybe ...' he gave a kinky smile, 'maybe even more than a friend if she wants to.'

Ron coughed in surprise. 'Say what?'

'I mean it. She's not half bad-looking, you know. And she's got a fiery temper! I like that.'

The red-head rolled his eyes and sighed. 'Well, I've decided: I can't believe I'm saying this, but I definitely feel sorrier for Bulstrode than I do for Seamus.'

The entire group burst out laughing at that.

'Poor, defenceless Millicent Bulstrode,' Harry said teasingly as she grinned at Seamus across the table, 'to fall victim to the clutches of the notorious Seamus Finnegan.'

'Oh, don't worry, I'll make sure she likes being my victim,' the mischievous boy cracked.

Ron pretended to gag and Harry choked back a laugh.

Hermione just rolled her eyes before looking superciliously at Ron. 'Well, Ron, it seems like not all Slytherins are being friendly; can't be a conspiracy then, can it?' She smiled smugly at him; Ron frowned slightly at her, but then admitted defeat for the time being and shrugged the whole situation away.

Harry checked her watch. 'It's almost time for Transfiguration. Let's go.'

'Wow, McGonagall was being nice today,' Ron remarked as they left the classroom and headed towards their last class which was Charms. 'No homework at all.'

'Yes,' agreed Harry, 'but you have to admit, that was an interesting class!' She looked teasingly at Ron who promptly scowled and turned away from her with a dignified look on his face. Harry could not hold back the laughter and Hermione soon joined in.

Professor McGonagall, after briskly welcoming them back to the school and unloading an expected lecture on their heads about how tough their upcoming exams would be, – ('Why can't she be like Slughorn?' Ron had groused under his breath at this point. 'He didn't lecture us about NEWTS at all!) – had handed each of them a small, albino ferret. It just so happened that these ferrets looked exactly like the one the imposter Moody had transfigured Draco Malfoy into in their fourth year; and none of the students who had been witnesses to that incident had forgotten it. Practically every head in the classroom, Harry's, Ron's and even Hermione's included, had turned around to look at the unfortunate aristocrat. Most of the students had been unable to cover up their hilarity at the situation.

Harry, in spite of the mild malicious amusement she had felt as the hilarious memories surfaced, had also felt a little sorry for Malfoy who had inevitably become the butt end of an unintended joke. The feeling had intensified when she saw his lips tighten into a thin line as he gazed down at the little white creature on his table with undisguised aversion.

Hermione, for her part, had quite disapproved of the students who had – very quietly – made fun of the Malfoy heir among themselves. But Ron, on the other hand, had been smirking openly at the white-blond (Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, was one of his favourite memories) – until McGonagall had abruptly announced that they would be practising turning the ferret into a weasel. Needless to say, Ron had been Highly Affronted, especially when Malfoy shot Ron's smirk right back at him.

'That is not funny, Harry,' he growled now, his pride wounded.

Harry continued to laugh as she elbowed him playfully in the ribs. 'Oh, take it easy, Ron.'

'Yes, Ron,' Hermione spoke up, slightly frowning at the teen now that her laughter had subsided, 'if people are allowed to make fun of Malfoy, then, pray tell, why shouldn't we laugh at you?'

'Wha – but ... ugh, that's completely beside the point!'

'Is not, Ron, and you –'

'We're here,' Harry interrupted them quickly before they got into one of their famous arguments.

Professor Flitwick was perched upon his customary stack of books when they entered the Charms classroom. His face lit up at the sight of them and he greeted the trio with cheerful enthusiasm. Harry was glad that, despite his obvious joy at their presence in his class, he did not pay particular regard to her or mention Voldemort or anything that would make the other students turn their attention on her; she was getting tired of all the awestruck and worshipful looks she was continuously receiving.

It was while they were taking their seats that Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini entered the room in all their Slytherin grandeur, causing a considerable number of the girls present in the room to break out into giggles and hushed whispers at the sight of the blond wizard. Harry could not help but feel slightly surprised when she noticed this. She watched with some confusion as Lavender and Parvati, sitting a few seats away, made coy, doe eyes at the aloof aristocrat; something they had never done before.

What's going on? She had never seen Malfoy receive such feminine attention. Certainly, he had grown up to be a handsome man, she admitted grudgingly to herself, but he had been reasonably good-looking before this year even, but girls had not reacted to him in this way before (except, maybe, for some Slytherin girls like Pansy Parkinson).

What the –?

Her confusion was cleared up when she overheard some murmurs from behind her:

'Oh, don't you think it's so romantic, to have a ring choose your perfect wife?'

'I know! It's like true love! Oh ... I so wish that I was his true love; if only the ring came to me.'

'Me, too; especially since that ring is so beautiful! Oh, and don't you think it's so cute that Draco wears his ring for the whole world to see?'

'Mm hmm, but it's kind of sad because it's like he's telling everyone that he's already taken ... oh, what wouldn't I give to have a chance with him? He's so hot!'

'Aw, are you jealous? Huh, can't say I blame you; I feel the same! I'll probably end up beating up his fiancée when she finally reveals herself and –'

Harry tuned out the voices of the two girls sitting behind her and gritted her teeth, irritated and embarrassed. So that explains it.

Everyone knew about Malfoy's mysterious engagement, thanks to the media, and most of Hogwart's female population thought that it was – Harry grimaced – "romantic", and wished to be – she almost groaned in disgust – his little "fiancée". Unconsciously, she fingered the engagement ring on her finger over the thin material of the black glove, her eyes following the movements of the platinum-haired teen as he sat down with his friend a few seats away from Harry, Ron and Hermione, and leaned back in his chair, looking bored. He was either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the females in the classroom; she decided that it was the latter: not only was Malfoy not that dense, but the hushed whispers were audible enough and none of the enamoured girls were masking the adoring looks on their faces as they simpered hopefully at him.

If only they knew, she thought heavily, still fingering the ring. I wonder what they'll think if they knew that I got his ring. Without giving the action any conscious thought, Harry tugged on the ring as she had become accustomed to doing over the past three months. The effort was futile and the ring remained stubbornly on her finger.

A sudden bout of giggles from behind her caught her attention and she turned slightly in her seat to see one of the girls sitting behind her, a Ravenclaw whose name Harry did not know, batting her eyelashes at someone. Knowing perfectly well who it was, Harry glanced around and resisted the urge to roll her eyes when she saw that the girl behind her had succeeded in catching Draco Malfoy's eyes. He looked back at the girl coolly and she simpered sickeningly at him, flipping her honey-blonde hair as she did so. Harry almost snorted. A moment later, a flicker of disgust appeared in Malfoy's eyes and with a distinct curling of the upper lip, he looked away from the girl. She looked absolutely heart broken at this.

It was all Harry could do to keep from yanking at her hair and screaming her lungs out. Here she was, seemingly the only girl in all of Hogwarts (or the classroom at present) who did not find the idea of being Draco Malfoy's fiancée appealing! But Life was such a vixen that it had chosen her, of all women, to be cursed with the confounded engagement ring! She had never wanted this. Why, if she could, she would rip it off her finger in less than a second and give it to one of these crazed classmates who would make good use of it. Or, maybe she would just happily shove it up Malfoy's rear end; oh, yeah, that was certainly much more tempting.

Just what kind of screwed up wishes did he make that the thing had to come to me?

It was while she had sunk into these gloomy thoughts that she felt a pair of eyes on her. Raising her eyes from where she had been frowning in a disheartened manner at the table, she felt a jolt of surprise rush through her when she saw Malfoy watching her calmly. Her eyes widened a fraction. Why is he looking at me like that?

There was no smirk on his face, no cold laughter in his eyes, yet he did not appear expressionless as he contemplated her silently. There was something about his face that made him look as if he were almost thoughtful as he continued to stare at her unabashedly. In fact, he did not even seem to have realised that he was staring.

The intensity in his eyes brought a light blush to Harry's cheeks but, not being one to turn down a challenge (whether it was an intended challenge or not) of any sort from the man that had once struggled with all his might to make her days at Hogwarts a living Hell, she gazed back defiantly at him, keeping her face devoid of any emotions and her eyes aloof. This staring contest lasted only for less than three seconds for Professor Flitwick chose to officially begin the lesson at that point, but to Harry, it seemed to stretch on for three lifetimes before Malfoy quickly broke eye contact; he turned away from her with a hint of red on his cheeks – visible even from that distance thanks to his alabaster skin complexion – as if he had just noticed what he had been doing.

Idly wondering what that had been all about, Harry turned her attention on their diminutive teacher and ignored the heat in her cheeks.

Professor Flitwick welcomed them back to their last year in Hogwarts in his usual cheerful manner and then, sounding uncannily like their Transfiguration teacher, explained to them how important their NEWTs were and what they could expect to come in their examinations. By the time he was through, most of the class looked exactly like they had done after McGonagall's similar harangue: ashen and slightly nauseous. Even Harry felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and a throbbing in her head, much like she had done on the first day of her fifth year when all the teachers had lectured them about the OWLs. She really wished that their professors would stop with those speeches; they did little to encourage the students and more to depress them.

A squeaky laugh escaped Flitwick when he saw their pale faces and traumatised eyes. 'I know it sounds scary,' he chirped, smiling, 'but it is the truth, so all the more reason for you to try your best. I would advise you to start learning and revising even now, but ...' he paused, looking around at their downcast faces, 'I shall keep the workload light today.'

The mood in the classroom lifted immediately and Flitwick chuckled good-naturedly.

'I shall start the class in a few minutes, but if any of you have any questions regarding the lessons you will be learning this year or your exams or anything related to Charms, you may ask me now.'

Harry leaned back in her seat comfortably when her classmates began shooting their questions at their professor. Most of them were about their lessons and she tuned them out, uninterested. A few minutes later, she found her eyes wandering out of boredom; she looked around at her classmates, locating familiar faces and noting missing ones, before her eyes locked on Malfoy again. He was not looking at her anymore, but she gazed at him, nonetheless, feelings of confusion and wonderment rising within her and her scattered thoughts returned to their "engagement".

She had never deeply considered why the ring had come to her before, being as intent as she had been on just solely removing it from her finger. But now she genuinely wondered (calmly, this time) why she had been the one chosen. According to Ginny, the enchanted ring chose a person according to the wishes made by the wisher. So, why had it been her? There was just no possibility that she was the sort of woman Draco Malfoy would have wished for.

As if to prove this to herself, Harry observed the wizard more closely. He was so different from her, even physically. His hair was that strange shade of blond, so fair that it almost appeared white, whereas hers was darker than the darkest of black; not to mention the fact that his was well groomed and in no way messy like hers. His eyes were grey tinged with silver while hers were bright green. Even their skin tones were different; hers was several shades darker than Malfoy's pale, alabaster complexion. There was also the fact that he was a handsome man. She, in her opinion, did not even come close to beautiful.

However, the most important differences existed between their backgrounds and their personalities. He was a somewhat cold person, haughty and aloof (unless he was off taunting at Gryffindors and lesser souls – which he had not done recently to Harry's knowledge) and kept a distance between himself and the world around him with the exception of a few privileged people like Blaise Zabini, and Crabbe and Goyle before him. Also, he had been brought up in an upper-class atmosphere, and being the sole heir of one of the most influential and wealthiest families in the Wizarding World, Malfoy also had that spark of arrogance and proud dignity that Harry had yet to witness in another man who was as young as him.

But Harry? She was nothing like him. She was a warm and loving person by nature and she had never kept up a dignified barrier between herself and others. Harry was also a humble woman, born with a strong sense of morality, and did not care for status and class despite her remarkable inheritance.

Such were their personalities; Hariah Potter and Draco Malfoy were polar opposites in every aspect of the word. He was an ice prince and she was a fiery tomboy.

And yet, the ring still chose me; how is that possible? Malfoy would never want someone like me. His ideal woman would be a high-born, pure-blooded witch with social power and wealth; not to mention beauty and true femininity. I'm nothing like that! And even if he and I were to marry – Harry sneered at the ludicrous thought – it would never work! We can't even stand each other's presence!

She fingered the ring thoughtfully again, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Was it really possible that the ring had made a mistake? Perhaps all this was just a misunderstanding? The more Harry thought about it, the more she grew convinced of it. Malfoy simply could not have wished for her, but the ring or the magic on it had malfunctioned and it had come to her by mistake. A mistake, Harry told herself though she knew that there would be some people who would not share her view point. But the reasoning she had come up with was good enough for her and she grew more determined to remove the ring and return the thing to Malfoy – anonymously, of course.

'PRO-FESS-OR!'

Harry, Ron and Hermione all jumped in surprise at the high-pitched screech that sounded from behind them. 'Bloody Hell –!' Ron turned around in his seat to glare at the honey-blonde haired girl who ignored him and continued to wave her hand in the air – not necessary since every single person in the classroom was now giving her their undivided attention.

'Ye – yes?' a startled Professor Flitwick squeaked, as he placed a hand over his heart. 'What's wrong, dear?'

'Oh, sorry, Professor,' the girl sang, not sounding apologetic at all, 'but I had a very important question to ask.'

'What the hell!' Ron cursed under his breath. 'She screamed that loud all 'cause of a ...'

'Yes, yes, of course; go ahead,' said Flitwick with a lot more composure than before.

The girl smiled sweetly. 'Well, sir, I was wondering,' she turned her eyes on Malfoy and Harry tensed as she realised what the girl was going to ask, 'what can you tell us about enchanted wizarding engagement rings?'

Blaise almost guffawed loudly at the girl's question and barely just managed to limit the outward show of his hysterics to a mere smirk. This was made all the more difficult by the fact that beside him, Draco had become positively murderous at the impertinence of the girl; his lips had thinned and his eyes had grown as icy as a polar glacier as he shot her a death-glare, not bothering to mask his venom. The smirk on Blaise' face broadened; all this was really just too entertaining.

Meanwhile, Professor Flitwick had lost his composure again. 'Why – I – I ...' he spluttered, '... young lady, please stick to the topic! Ask me anything, but the question must be related to Charms!' He was obviously trying to get his senses back together once more.

'But Professor,' the girl whined; Blaise could have sworn he heard Draco grinding his teeth at that moment, 'it is related to Charms! Aren't those rings enchanted? And aren't enchantments a part of Charms? Please, sir, tell us about them!'

'This – this is hardly appropriate!' Flitwick blustered shrilly, looking extremely embarrassed. With a raised eyebrow, Blaise wondered why that was, but then he saw their teacher shoot a very apologetic look at a still furious Draco. Ah, I see. So, even the teachers knew about Draco's engagement (who didn't?). But at least they have the tact not to harp on about it in front of him and they respect his privacy, Blaise mused, unlike most of the girls here.

'Aw, Professor, please? Surely you must know all about enchanted rings!' It was not only that girl alone this time, Blaise noted, but even some of the other girls had joined her. As his eyes passed from female to female, he was half-surprised to see that some of the people that he would never have thought would ever have a crush on Draco Malfoy were teaming up with that honey-haired girl. Why, even those two Gryffindor airheads – what were their names again? Priya and Laura? – were making the goo-goo eyes at Draco! Every single girl in the class, Blaise sniggered slightly to himself, highly amused.

No, not everyone, he soon realised. The Granger girl was not part of the newly formed Draco Malfoy fan club if the look of disapproval and pity on her face was any indication. And even his Potions partner ... Blaise raised his eyebrows as he gazed curiously at Hariah Potter. She was obviously not going insane like the rest of her female classmates, however her expression was ... strange. She was looking between their teacher and the honey-haired girl with a peculiar look on her face, and she occasionally glanced in Draco's direction with apprehensive eyes. What's up with her?

That was when Blaise noticed it: she was fiddling with something on her left hand; or to be more precise, her finger. However, he could not see what it was because – he squinted at her hand; was that a glove she was wearing? He eyed the black-haired girl with avid curiosity; as far as he knew, Hariah Potter was not the sort of person who would be affected by anything that happened to Draco Malfoy. But he could clearly see now that something was bothering her. And what was she playing around with on her finger? Hmm. Perhaps he was thinking too much on this, but Blaise got a feeling that there was something more to this than what met the eye.

Professor Flitwick was at a loss for words; that Ravenclaw girl was being bold to the point of insolence! He drew himself up – not that he looked any taller than he already was – and answered authoritatively, 'That question, dear girl, is not related to our syllabus; however, if you want to find out about them, I suggest you look in the library.'

'But –!'

'No,' Flitwick said firmly.

The girl, and the rest of her Draco-crazed friends and classmates, sighed in disappointment. But then she looked up with twinkling eyes and Blaise immediately knew that whatever she was about to say would not be wise and would probably result in an even more murderous Draco Malfoy – if such a thing was possible.

'Actually, Professor, I don't think there is any need to go to the library; after all, we have the expert right here!' She smiled flirtatiously at the blond Slytherin while Flitwick opened his mouth indignantly at her insolent behaviour, but seemed unable to decide what to say.

Blaise gazed at Draco out of the corner of his eyes and was not surprised to see that his friend's eyes were burning with silver flames of fury and his hands were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white. It was really impressive, Blaise thought, that Draco had managed to gather up enough self control so that he was able to keep any expressions off his face, though, no doubt, all he must want to do at that second was to snarl like an untamed animal and rip the girl limb from limb for humiliating him like that.

I must admit that I feel rather sorry for him.

'So, Draco,' the girl cooed and flipped her honey-blonde hair, seemingly forgetting that they were currently in a classroom filled with some thirty or so students and a teacher, 'why don't you tell us about your engagement?' She batted her eyelashes at him in a sickening manner. 'Do you think that any of us might get your ring?' (Translation: 'Do I stand a chance of getting your ring?')

The Slytherin in question did not dignify her question with an answer, but continued to glare venomously at her. Either she was ignoring his fury or was so dense that she did not sense it, but her sweet smile did not falter even for a second.

'Well, what do you think, Drakie?'

Drakie?? Ooh, big mistake.

Blaise lost all control of himself at the nickname and he dropped his head into his hands as he struggled in vain to muffle his boisterous laughter. He was not the only one. All over the classroom, most of the boys were in similar states. He could hear easily hear their mirth-filled hysterics, especially the hooting guffaws of one Ron Weasley.

Oh Merlin, I can't believe she actually called him Drakie! Blaise clutched his stomach, unable to control his laughter. He did not dare lift up his head to look at his friend seated beside him; no doubt that the blond would positively murder him later on for "betraying" him, but honestly, could you blame Blaise for laughing at Draco's expense? Who would not laugh if they heard a girl call their aloof best friend "Drakie"? Blaise continued to guffaw into his hand.

Though he could not see Draco, Blaise knew that he was probably trying to kill the girl with his eyes; it was a pity that Draco was not a Basilisk. The temperature in the classroom seemed to drop as the blond's anger rose. A full twenty seconds later, Blaise heard him growl through gritted teeth, 'None. Of. Your. Business.'

'Aw, Drakie –' the girl began, but Draco cut her off and this time, the full wrath of his anger was audible in every syllable.

'You are not even worth my time; I have nothing more to say to you.'

It was probably his tone of voice more so than his words that finally shut the girl up. Blaise finally raised his head and saw that she looked both surprised and incredibly hurt at Draco's hostility. Well, she deserved it. He glanced hesitantly to his left and with a start, saw that Draco was glaring right at him with a look in his eyes that clearly said, 'I'll deal with you later, you traitor!'

Blaise just smirked innocently at him, knowing full well that it would only serve to increase Draco's ire. And sure enough, his friend scowled at him in irritation before haughtily turning away.

Professor Flitwick was finally able to speak. 'That is quite enough of that!' he barked, sounding very unlike himself as he looked pointedly at the Ravenclaw girl. 'If any of you bring up this topic again, he or she will suffer detention for the whole of this term, is that understood?'

When the students finally murmured 'Yes, sir', Flitwick turned away from them to write on the board. But before that, Blaise saw the Charms Professor shoot another apologetic look at Draco who, still too busy glaring at the honey-haired Ravenclaw, did not notice it. The rest of the lesson passed in relative silence and obedient charm work, but the other students, especially the girls, were still wont to shoot coy looks at Draco, and some of the boys occasionally smirked at him. Draco studiously turned a blind eye to all this, but Blaise could sense his still present anger though it had lessened somewhat.

The bell finally rang and it was a welcome sound to the Malfoy heir though he did not show it. He packed his things with impressive calm and left with Blaise by his side, head held high and eyes cold and not meeting anyone else's gaze. As they headed with the rest of the students towards the Great Hall for dinner, Blaise finally asked quietly, 'Are you calm yet?'

Draco looked at him witheringly.

Blaise shrugged, his lips turning up into a small smirk. 'I was just checking whether or not you would be treating me to a slow and painful death anytime soon, Draco.'

He scowled again. 'And, pray tell, why should I not do it, Blaise? You sided against me!'

'Oh, come now, Draco, don't be foolish. I am your friend.'

'Friends, Zabini, do not laugh at their friends' misfortunes.'

Blaise looked amusedly at Draco as they descended a staircase. 'Rest assured, Drake, I was not laughing at you – but rather at that droll nickname the Ravenclaw girl gave you.'

His friend looked ready to commit murder again. 'It's not funny, Blaise!'

'Oh, shut it. Just be grateful she only called you Drakie and not something even more pathetic like, say ... Drakie-poo?'

Draco looked absolutely disgusted and Blaise laughed.

'That no-good vixen,' the blond wizard growled, eyes spitting fire again. 'I knew before I came here that I would have to face comments from people about my engagement; but I never thought that there would be such – such ... such insolent girls! How dare she ...'

'She was being pretty impertinent,' Blaise agreed. 'To say all that in class – even Flitwick was shocked.'

'And the nerve of her, hinting that she might get the ring!' Draco went on scornfully, ignoring Blaise. 'As if she would ever be my fiancée! Her type of women is the very sort that I would never even dream of marrying no matter how desperate I become!'

'Of course not,' Blaise said in a soothing manner, knowing perfectly that Draco would not calm down until he had ranted his frustration well out of his system.

'Why, I even would rather marry Hariah Potter than that air-headed blonde!'

'Yes, yes, you – what?' Blaise looked around in shock at the Malfoy heir. Draco stopped dead in his tracks when he realised what he had said. Neither spoke for a long moment.

Finally, Blaise got over the shock and he leered, 'Oh, you would, would you, Drake?'

Draco struggled to regain his composure, but was unable to cover the flush in his cheeks. 'Come on, Blaise, you know full well what I meant by that. I was just emphasising how much I dislike that Ravenclaw.'

'You dislike her to the point that you would even marry Hariah Potter instead of her if it ever came to that?' Blaise snickered.

Draco frowned. 'It was a figure of speech, Blaise; why do you take it so seriously?'

'But, would you marry her, Draco?' Blaise pressed, ignoring his question.

His friend opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Blaise raised an eyebrow at him as he waited patiently for the answer. Draco gave a light shake of his head before heading for the Great Hall again.

'Don't be absurd, Blaise,' he muttered quietly. 'Why would I ever want to marry Potter?'

Blaise followed him, smiling slightly. 'In all honesty, Draco, I don't think it would be unpleasant to marry her; she is, after all, one of the few girls in this place who still actually has a spark of decency and humility left in her; not to mention the fact that she does possess some intelligence and a charismatic nature. And though she's certainly no great beauty, she's grown up to be somewhat attractive. Even you must agree with that though you don't like the girl.'

Draco did not reply.

His mood remained somewhat gloomy throughout dinner and was unresponsive whenever Blaise tried to engage him in conversation. Blaise finally gave up on him and they walked back to their common room in silence. It was only after they entered their empty dormitory that Draco finally cheered up at seeing that he had received an owl from his mother.

Eagerly, he reached for the letter.

A/N: Aww, poor Drakie-poo - but how could I resist torturing him? XD Seriously, I enjoyed writing this chapter way more than I should have. LOL

And to keep your spirits up - and also 'cause I don't want any of my readers to die from suspense like some have told me they are 0_o" -: Draco WILL find out about Harry quite soon, K? Most likely after the 13th or 14th chappy; but don't depend too much on my words - my guesses tend to be inaccurate when it comes to my own writing (a perfect example would be when I set out to write a 5000 word one-shot that ended up being 19000 words! X.x). But, honestly though, you don't expect Draco to find out so soon, do you? There's no fun in that! ;)

On a totally random note: Yay, I finally got "The Tales of Beedle the Bard"! Brilliantly creative fairytales, I must say. Heh, JKR never ceases to amuse me. :3

COMING SOON: CHAPTER NINE: Tying Up Loose Ends