Sucker Love

Chapter 8 • Draco





Chapter
8 • Draco

 

I nearly ruined my favorite
book just now. The pages were beginning to wrinkle and Lord knew a paperback
wouldn’t last long, but I was getting pretty pissed at the unnecessary
commotion of it all. I just wanted to read my book – something not many people
thought I was even capable of, but damn well was. What was even more of a
shocker was that it was a Muggle book. I could have heard the gasps promptly
after disclosing that information. I guess it was news to everyone but me; I
still stood by my ‘Everyone, not only Mudbloods are morons’ theory. It hasn’t
been an obstacle yet.

 

My
actual obstacle, however, was the one preventing me from reading my book;
preventing me from even thinking a thought without her in it; preventing me
from getting any peace this afternoon on which I so desperately wanted to kill
everyone in various different ways just so they’d shut up and leave me the hell
alone. I admitted I had privacy issues.

 

“Alright,”
I uttered, annoyed, while closing my eyes and marking my page before setting
down my beloved book and tending to my frustrating obstacle, “stop prancing
around me like some horny feline and tell me what you want.”

 

She
raised an eyebrow at me and pouted slightly before placing one knee on either
side of my chest and straddling my waist as she sat down. Now why did I think
she hadn’t come to just discuss tea and cookies?

 

“When
you’re in an inviting mood like this, I can’t help but think that things are
going according to plan with Granger?” she inquired, a knowing smirk curving at
her burgundy lips. I wondered briefly what other topics – besides sex – the two
of us had ever discussed previously before realizing that it hardly mattered; a
sex discussion was never beyond me.

 

This
time, I had to roll my eyes at her obvious statement. It’d only be a matter of
time before she started inquiringctlyctly where I kept my family crest and how
many Galleons she could take out of Gringotts at a time. Fucking hell, I
wouldn’t make it that easy for her.

 

“It’s
going very well, actually,” I exaggerated without remorse, grasping Pansy by
the hips and detaching her from my upper body. Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes
with my palms and ran a hand through my already-disheveled hair. “Just have a
slight problem with forewarnings.”

 

Pansy
flipped herself over so that she was on her back, lying on my pillow and
bedspread like they were her own. Might as well have been. “Oh?”

 

“Please,”
I said dryly, rolling my eyes at Pansy’s mannerism that I’d noticed so many
times before, “please care a little bit less. It’s overwhelming.”

 

This
didn’t seem to affect her state of mind at all; if anything, it amused her. I
almost shrugged. It worked to ignore shit people throw at you.

 

“Wow,
baby, I haven’t heard you beg this much since the Yule Ball,” she commented
coyly, chuckling at my expense. Bitch. God, how I love being surrounded by the
familiar. “Come on, tell Pansy what Big Bad Granger did now. I won’t laugh,”
she offered, breathing hotly into my ear as she sat up, “promise.”

 

I
turned to her, smirking slightly as I looked into her scheming, hazel eyes.
They seemed to have all the secrets bottled up in them – everything that she’d
every thought, it seemed, was displayed in her eyes. They sparkled at me, as if
winking encouragingly to make an ass out of myself. I supposed she learned from
the best – though she’d never admit it. Damn, too close to her again.

 

I
shifted off the bed due to the growing ache in my pants that had developed
suddenly – like, just now. She probably knew that she’d invoked that in me –
hence her breathy ‘promise’ – but I wouldn’t let her see that she got to me.
Nobody got to me. Nobody.

 

“Sell
me on that offer when you learn the definition of promise, Pans,” I replied
laughingly, stepping closer to the full-length mirror that hung here my redwood
dresser. I swiped a comb off the top of the deep burgundy clothes keep and
began experimenting with different parts on my head for the hell of it. I knew
it didn’t matter, it was purely for entertainment; I looked hot no matter how
my hair looked.

 

Pansy
came up behind me and I watched amusedly as she displayed her, ‘Hm, good point’
face at my previous comment. She was like that – hardcore and fabulous; didn’t
give a shit what anyone happened to think of her. Granted, I wasn’t just
anyone, but we knew each other better than to take that shit seriously.
Although, I was serious about one thing: chick didn’t have authority to promise
crap to anyone.

 

“Well,
tell me anyway,” Pansy prodded curiously, and I could tell that she juanteanted
to know about my conquest and the level of how much Granger was resisting. I
was glad to have the knowledge that had it not been for some little fuck that
tipped her off about my new ‘habits’, I would’ve sacked her on the first day of
classes – before my first damn homework assignment. Of course, the
aforementioned fuck that told Granger of my tendencies really screwed me over
unexpectedly and closed off the virginal Gryffindor even more so than she’d
been before – and that really outweighed my ‘could’ve been’ theory. Screw that
fast and reliable owl post.

 

“Well,” I began impartially, dropping my comb back on the
dresser after tousling my hair with it for a good minute, “it seems that our
little Ms. Pure and Holy had a few more grudges up her sleeve than I thought.”
I could see Pansy’s eyebrow rising at my comment in the mirror, but didn’t pay her
expressions any mind; I was getting over the shock that she was actually
letting me speak and get through with more than a sentence before her comments
gracefully dropped in. “Apparently, someone had tipped off Granger about my,” I
smiled proudly, “reputation

and
she picked mid-kiss to tell me about it.” Pansy’s eyebrow rose even higher at
that and I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Okay, so pre-kiss but that’s not
important.”

 

Her
eyes danced merrily at the newly acquired information and I stared expectantly into
the mirror at her reflection, waiting for her to comment on – or perhaps mock –
my dilemma. She twisted a strand of shocking blonde hair around her index
finger innocently as she pondered something, meeting my demanding stare in the
mirror.

 

“Not
that I overly care,” Pansy clarified finally, dropping the strand of hair from
her manicured fingers, “but I’m guessing that you don’t know who the
shit-talker is?”

 

I
smirked as to hide what was really going through my mind. After all, on our
playing field being obvious didn’t go down too well in the long run. Stepping
back from the mirror, I began my trek towards the gargoyle that would let me
out of the damn dorms to get some food, when I suddenly turned around, making
Pansy raise another eyebrow. It wasn’t the first time – and probably wouldn’t
be the last – that I realized Pansy had a limited collection of facial
expressions, eyebrow-raising being the popular and dominant one that displayed
itself on her flawless face countless times. That was actually one more thing
that she and I had in common; I hardly knew why I paid attention to that shit
anymore. But I did.

 

“Au
contraire, my dear,” I replied after a moment of pondering. “I know exactly who
tipped off my little wager. Furthermore, I know exactly how to get revenge on
that poor little soul to lighten my mood.” I smirked, before walking up right
to Pansy, our noses almost touching and I could feel her breath on my lips.
“And it all involves you.”

 

Pansy’s
expression changed from ‘What the hell?’ to ‘You think I’m going to help you?
Did someone literally fuck all your brains out, or what?’ She didn’t need to
say more for me to receive her message loud and clear. My smirk grew wider –
God, I loved her reactions.

 

“Yeah,
Pans, you’ll help me. Because I’ll help you.” I walked around her standing
form, which was calmly practicing the art of looking skeptic. Gently brushing
some lint off my robes, I turned around and walked back into her line of
vision; she hadn’t even moved her gaze since my announcement. She looked
impartial – yeah, I liked that desktop on my face as well. It meshed well with
the skin texture. “Not so long ago, you came to me for a favor regarding a
certain Parvati Patil and Dean Thomas which I turned down,” I reminded her. And
she looked at me askance; she also looked annoyed, but most of her expression
was dedicated to letting me know that she did, in fact, remember when I refused
to help her. I retaliated by smiling widely at her – clearly the best way to
get her pissed. Oh, I was good, man. Her eyes flamed which, naturally, urged me
to continue. “Well, I’ve decided that I’ll help you out, as long as you to do
me a favor, too. A favor regarding a certain Harry Potter.”

 

That
snort was also unladylike. That was the second time in that week that I heard
her snort like she was taught how to properly in an academy. This time,
however, I could understand the snort. She – as well as I – knew exactly what
the word ‘favor’ meant in our language and the word Potter next to favor didn’t
come across too well. Neither did Patil, so I guessed it was even.

 

“So,
let me get this straight,” Pansy countered, folding her arms across her...well,
I was not going to describe her chest just yet, “you think that Granger
wouldn’t let you fuck her because Potter “Shit For Brains” told on you? Is that
your theory?”

 

I
almost laughed. No, I actually did laugh. This was too good to not take humor
in. Potter? She thought that Potter – appropriately named by Pansy – “Shit For
Brains” told Granger that I was out to fuck her the second she came back? I
laughed again; perhaps that was a continuation of my previous laugh. I didn’t
know. Either way, that fucker wouldn’t have figured out how to use a post owl
had it not been for Dumbledore carving his path in life for him let alone how
to reach Granger when she’d disappeared.

 

“Hardly,”
I said, my eyes still laughing long after I, myself, had stopped. “No,” I
confirmed, walking behind the only other blonde in my room and putting my hands
around her waist while resting my chin on her shoulder. “I think Potter “Shit
For Brains” had absolutely nothing to do with any of Granger’s knowledge –
period. He wasn’t involved. However, I have reason to believe that the little
tattle-tale in this case is non other than Ginny Weasley.” I kissed the side of
Pansy’s luscious neck slowly. “Now Potter’s involved.”

 

 

.

 

 

“Hey,
Draco Malfoy,” a high voice pierced the noisy atmosphere, directing itself –
unfortunately – at my ears, “where are you off to?”

 

I
stopped right before the gargoyle. I sighed. “To the burning pits of hell where
my brain will be used for assorted smoothies and I’ll be submitted to endless
wandless, manual labor,” I answered monotonously before glancing quickly at my
watch and looking back up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to be late.”

 

I
could have predicted the pout that appeared on her over-glossed lips and the
puppy-dog eyes that her face produced as she appeared before me, blocking my
exit. “Wait,” she pleaded. “Why didn’t you owl me after last night? I mean, you
left so suddenly.”

 

Christ
– I had to roll my eyes and walk past her quickly before this chick’s stupidity
leaked over my imported velvet robes. “You and I are in the same dorms, Angie.
Why would I owl you?”

 

Angie’s
puppy-dog eyes morphed into glassy, hurt ones and I could tell that the scent
of rejection was finally reaching her nasal senses. Frankly, I thought I gave
off the rejection stench last night after we’d fucked good and long, but
apparently some people aren’t too bright in those areas. Sheep are sometimes so
hard to deal with.

 

“But...”
she trailed off, looking down at the ground for a good half a minute – I was
going to leave, too – before she looked up at me, pleading clearly evident on
her facial features. “I thought we had something special.”

 

I
smiled at her – one of those big, wonderful,
girls-love-them-because-they-read-too-many-Witch-Weekly-articles smiles – and
looked her straight into her chocolate brown eyes. They were big and gullible
and I just had to wonder how this chick even got sorted into Slytherin; perhaps
she had a mean streak that day and the Sorting Hat had a few shots of tequila
before the ceremony.

 

“Angie,
honey,” I cooed, brushing my thumb against her cheek and earning a small smile
from her. “Let me give you some advice.” I waited a beat for her full attention
– not that I didn’t have it before – and smiled at her again. “Get some
dignity,” I began, kissing her right cheek, “get a boyfriend,” I continued,
kissing her other cheek before leveling with her in the eyes, “and get the hell
away from me.”

 

With
the same sensitive-guy expression on my face, I walked away from Naïve Babe
#7689 that had expected a lasting relationship from me and got shit in return.
The gargoyle moved aside for me, mumbling something about no appreciation and
something else I couldn’t quite make out as I left the common room. I was
pretty sure it had to do with not getting laid back in his day.

 

I
shook my head as I walked down the halls of Hogwarts. They seemed so small to
me now – now that I was a Seventh Year and was about to get the hell out of
here. I’d already learned everything, seen everything, talked to many and
fucked even more than that – what else was there? Even now, thinking about
where I was headed and about Granger and the whole bet situation, I realized
that I was so completely beyond all of this. I had the entire school wrapped
around my finger, save for Pansy, and could pull any strings that I wanted
faster than I could say ‘lumos’.

 

Speaking
of the bet, or rather thinking about it, I smiled and shook my head again at
how easy this all seemed. I’d made arrangement for Pansy to...favor Potter on
the condition that I do the same for Patil on my off days, so that we could
both get something out of it. Our revenge plans, not surprisingly, were pretty
much the same. Pansy wanted me to fuck Patil a few times for her to, of course,
get her into a very Angie situation with the added bonus of breaking up with
Thomas, therefore giving him ‘what he deserved’, according to the brains of the
plan. I, on my part, wanted Pansy to screw Potter as well, in turn leaving him
panting for her like a bitch in heat and rejecting my new victim – the youngest
Weasley.

 

I
smiled and shook my head for the third time, only this time at my earlier
stupidity. Granger’s little information source was in front of my face the
entire time; I was just too...distracted with Granger’s...Granger-ness to see
it. When I finally did figure it out, however, I began by thinking of all the
people that could possibly have tried repeatedly to reach Ms. Disappearing Act
herself when she was away and ruled out Potter and Weasley right way. They may
have wanted to contact her, but after sending a few owls and getting their own
parchments back a few days later, they would’ve given up – and apparently
really did. That left Granger’s other close friends – whom basically resided in
Gryffindor. I crossed out Thomas, Finnigan, and Longbottom for the same reasons
as Potter and Weasley with the bonus that they probably fabricated stories of
possible truths to hold them over if and until Granger actually came back and
told them what actually. That left me with Granger’s closest girlfriends:
Patil, Brown, and mini-Weasley. I realized that Patil and Brown didn’t really
talk or hang out with her that much either, being as Granger was more of the
book chick and they liked their lipstick charms and whatnot – it was beyond me.
And friends who cared about nail polish a bit more than the actual person
weren’t going to spend their precious beauty time tracking down a long-lost
classmate.

 

Which
left bite-size.

 

It
all fit when I thought of young Ginny Weasley as the one who’d wrote to Granger
about me. They’d been friends almost as long as she’d been friends with the
Potter Peace Group and Weasley was the caring type of girl; she wouldn’t have
given as fast as a few choice morons would’ve. Plus, the chick had reason for
hating me and when she told Granger of me, it wasn’t just to spread information
– I did screw her over - after screwing
her – after all. Fair game. And to add to the genius that is me, I remembered
the little scenario down in the Potions class where Granger basically said I
fucked half her friends for no reason using fucking analogies which I did not
want to follow. At the end – right before we screwed up Snape’s favorite blue
powder – she’d used the word ‘she’ to describe the person that I hurt most and
was most likely to spill the information to her.

 

I
smiled and turned the corner, arriving at my dreaded destination. Only today –
it wasn’t that dreaded.

 

I
knocked even though the door was open and leaned on the frame of the jagged
doorway, smirking. It was, like, my base expression, after all.

 

“Oh,
you’re here,” came the enthusiastic reply; well, only if you use the word
‘enthusiastic’ extremely loosely. “Snape’s having us clean all desks, organize
his filing cabinet and wash all the cauldrons.” Granger was pacing about the
classroom, looking for a rag, I presumed, before she stopped and turned to me,
smiling sweetly all of a sudden. “Oh, and we have to do it wandless. So, unless
you want Snape to turn up in the few minutes, pissed and vengeful, I suggest
you deposit your big piece of wood over there, on his desk.”

 

I
smirk even more. I couldn’t resist. “Which big piece of wood?”

 

Granger
stopped momentarily, turned to me and grimaced – scrunching up her face like
she’d been asked to smell something horrid for a living – but didn’t lose her
cool. “Whichever’s portable,” she answered, and turned around, shaking her
head.

 

Oh,
this was going to be fun.

 

I
rolled up my robe’s sleeves and deposited my wand on Snape’s desk like the
female in front of me directed me to. Then, as if suddenly realizing what I’d
been asked to do, I carefully stepped behind Granger and took a minute to think
of how exactly to phrase the question I planned to ask.

 

Sensing
my presence, Granger turned around and looked at me expectantly – and a bit
suspiciously. “What?”

 

I
decided to just go for it.

 

“So,
just out of curiosity...how are we supposed to clean,” I motioned all around the
classroom, “all this without using any wands?”

 

Granger
just smirked at me as she found a suitable rag and picked up a big black
cauldron, grimacing as she saw the contents of it. “Oh, I don’t know, Malfoy,”
she began innocently. “You hinted you weren’t completely empty-handed in that
area.” She winked. “You can always try using your other wand.”