Happy Saturday everyone! Hope you enjoy chapter...whatever this is :)

By the time our meeting rolled around, I was a ball of pacing nerves.

I paced around and around Draco, who finally grabbed me roughly about the shoulders, nearly hissing with aggravation. "Stop!"

I wrung my hands, squirming away from him. "Where is everyone?"

"I. Don't. Know." he snaps, enunciating each word, clearly frayed at the edges by my weird behavior. "They'll be here soon, I'm sure."

"I hope so," I say.

This meeting was the most important of all of them. If the musicians had cancelled, the ballroom burnt down, or the food disgusting, it would all be my fault.

I imagined the triumphant glare I'd get from Ron, or the disappointed one Hermione would give me.

But, more than that, I could almost see the scornful glances cast my way from all of the other students. I would become a social misfit! A reject! They would storm my dorm with pitchforks and wands drawn, laughing manically, Draco and Luna leading them…

Okay, fine. That part probably wasn't likely. However, you never knew with our wacko school!

I felt Draco's hands grabbing me yet again, picking me up and placing me into a plushy armchair. Even though he was angry, he took great care not to hurt me, hands tough and gentle at the same time.

I looked up at his stony face, blushing. "I was pacing again, wasn't I?"

He nodded, smirking at me, sighing exasperatedly. "There are a few craters in the stone floor."

I kicked him, and he grinned. "You can stop with the panic attacks, here's Pansy and Blaise now. The rest of the lot will be here soon enough."

I nod, glancing at Pansy, who has sat down on an ottoman with an angry huff, glaring daggers at Draco and me.

Blaise winks at us, sprawled out elegantly on the couch, whereupon Draco shoves him over so he can sit.

"Hey Gin," he says, waving half-heartedly from his perch.

I nod back quickly, reorganizing all of the parchment rolls sitting on the table in front of me, lining up my three sharp Quick-Quotes quills and small marble inkpot.

When there's nothing left for me to do, I glance around the room again.

Blaise and Draco are talking animatedly about something, and their faces have undergone such a transformation that I'm struck dumb.

Draco had said that they'd been friends forever, and I could tell now. His face was pink and animated, hair sticking up in disarray, hands gesturing animatedly as he slouched into the couch.

Blaise had abandoned his, well, blasé look, talking quickly with interest flashing bright in his eyes.

I'd rarely seen either of them that happy, and it made me happy, just watching them. I slunk over to the couch, unsure. I didn't want to interrupt, not when they were like this.

I put my hand over Draco's, ever so gently, looking at him, a little scared.

However, he turns to me, smiling, carefree. He rubs the pad of his thumb over my hand, flipping it over so his covers mine.

Whereupon Blaise groans. "Get a room, already. Draco, dude, never, ever, let me see that whipped, wide-eyed puppy-dog look on your face again."

Draco's eyes didn't waver from mine, "if you don't like it, get out."

Feeling bold, I sit in his lap, Indian-style, grinning at Draco cheekily. "Is this okay?"

He rolls his eyes at me, glad to see me back to normal. "Oh," he drawls, "Now you ask?"

"Yup."

He shakes his head at me dubiously, wrapping his arms around my waist. He starts talking again, something about Blaise's mum's new boyfriend, and I sink into his broad chest, breathing in a smell that was entirely Draco's: warm, musky, and unlike anything else.

He places his chin on my head, his breath sending waves through my hair and tickling me.

Sure enough, the rest of my committee trickles in, Luna smiling at me. The rest gazed, open-mouthed Draco and I.

Finally, everyone was there, and I had to leave the warm security of Draco's hold to stand up and start the meeting.

He let me go reluctantly, regarding me from under lowered lashes, grinning lazily, knowing just what he was doing to me.

I blush, clearing my throat. "Hello, everyone. Hopefully your week has been going well."

I heard mumbled affirmation before I plowed on.

"As I understand it, everything has, for the most part, been taken care of."

I addressed Luna. "The music we have planned is still on?"

She nodded, looking dreamy, as if she wasn't really listening to me. "Yep."

"And the ballroom's set for tomorrow night, Pansy?"

She looked at me coolly. "Well enough."

I racked my brain for something else that needed to be addressed.

"Since that's all taken care of," I said, "you're all free to go. Thanks for all of your help and hard work. Hopefully, tonight will go seamlessly."

They all nodded back at me, smiling, and went on their way.

I slumped back into my chair, suddenly exhausted.

"So that went well," Draco smiled at me, sitting on my armrest.

I nodded, staying quiet. He sighed, placing his arm around me.

"Do you want to go and practice? It's Friday, no classes tomorrow."

I groaned, peeling myself from my chair. "Yeah, let's go."
After dodging the multitudes of questions and suspicious glares, we finally made it out to the pitch. We pulled our brooms out of their sheds, orange leaves crunching under our feet.

Draco waited for me as I struggled to move another (heavy) broom in my way, leaning on his own Fireball 7777. After a few seconds filled with grunts and pushes, the heavy broomstick gave way, and I grabbed my broom victoriously.

"Aha!" I smiled, "Got it!"

Draco smirked at me. "You could've just asked for help, Weaselette."

I glared at him. He knew better. "Maybe next time, macho ferret."

He laughed, an unusually hearty boom, and carried my Silverspun for me out to the pitch.

I grabbed a Quaffle from the trunk full of Quidditch supplies, smiling as I took my Silverspun from Draco.

"Thanks," I said, twirling the Quaffle on my pointer finger. "Can you Keep?"

"What do you think?" he smirked at me.

I shoved him, "Showoff."

"Skilled," he responded, snatching the red ball from my hands as I glared at him.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Woof, woof, Draco. That's not very nice," I taunted, using a strategically placed finger to flick the Quaffle away from him and across the pitch.

"You started it!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"You started it!"

"No, you did!"

"I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!"

I dive after the still-rolling Quaffle, Draco tackling me, and I land flat on my back, whereupon he hovers over me.

"You started it."

His voice is silky smooth, like a bar of Honeydukes chocolate. I swallow, eyeing his lips, the bottom one caught between his teeth.

I shake my head at him, "you did."

He smirks at me, knowing that I'm trapped.

"Tsk, tsk," he says, running a pale finger along my jaw line, up to outline my mouth, smirking when my breath hitches and color fills my cheeks, "don't lie, Genevieve, it's not becoming."

I swallow, loud to my ears, "I'm not lying."

My face is only inches from Draco's, his legs pinning me down.

His lips ghost against my cheek, possessive, cold, distant almost. His eyes are the familiar, hungry mercury that I've become used to, and I shiver involuntarily.

"You started this," he begins, holding his hand over my lips as I begin to argue, "and you can end it."

So, I close the meager distance between us and do just that.

A little mushy, I apologize. And onward! To the Ball!

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