Chapter 13*

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Song selection:
1. I don't know you tell me...
2. :) in the comments.

Draco Malfoy's POV:

I was still wandering directionlessly when I heard the echoing chimes of a grandfather clock. I perked up, counting 13 chimes. I was late for lunch. Great, I thought before making my way to the huge doors of the Great Hall.

I ran a hand through my mussed hair and tightened my tie, attempting (and failing) to look moderately presentable before entering, but she was still impossibly sweet on my lips.

The hall was already lively and lunch was in full swing when I entered, so I luckily escaped the stares that usually followed Slytherins around (to make sure we weren't conspiring to...I don't know, something) as I approached my usual seat beside Blaise and Crabbe.

Crabbe, as usual, was totally engrossed in his food and probably on his third or fourth plate. Blaise, on the other hand, was sporting a cocky grin. He winked when I took my seat and help up a fist. "Niiiiice," he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shot back, grabbing a plate and blindly loading it up with random things to avoid his gaze. This was not a discussion I was ready to have, not about her.

His grin widened. "Nice, mate! You shagged someone on the down low! Who was it? Pansy? A Hufflepuff? A fourth year?" He mock-gasped. "A bloke?"

I rolled my eyes.

"I don't have an issue with that, no problem with experimenting. In fact, if you're not busy tonight-"

"Come off it Blaise, I didn't do shit," I growled, almost slamming down my plate in front of me, eyes glued to the table.

He snorted in disbelief. "Your shirt is miss-buttoned, your fly is unzipped, you're blushing like a howler, I don't know mate, you look like you had a pretty fun time." I shot him an evil eye, but he continued, placing his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands like a gushing teen witch.

"So this bloke: was it Potter? Ooooh Drarry, I love it. Finnigan? No hate, but if you got between Thomas and Finnigan you'd be wise to keep it to yourself if you don't want their fan club to kill you. Oh! Was it Weasley?"

That name made my clench my jaw. That's it. I slammed down my fork on the table, but Blaise was spared a punch in the jaw by the arrival of Pansy, who immediately parked herself in my lap. I refused to move away from the table, so she was awkwardly stuffed into the narrow space with her chest pressed against mine.

Her dark hair fell like a curtain, a small barrier from the rest of the hall. "Hey babe," she said brightly, twirling a bit of my hair between her fingers. "I haven't seen you around lately, what's up?"

Before I could shove her off me, Blaise tapped her on the shoulder with that shit-eating grin back on his face. "Too little too late, Parkinson, Draco's getting his action elsewhere now, haven't you heard?"

She giggled and tossed her hair. "My Draco wouldn't do that to me," she said, placing her hand on my chest in a possessive manner.

As I opened my mouth to curse her out and shove her away from me, I was cut off by the sharp scrape of wood on stone. All eyes in the hall turned to see the Gryffindor table in a panic after one of the long benches moved back almost a metre while a petite brunette dashed out the Hall in a flash.

Ginny turned to me, her fire-red hair tickling her cheeks as she met my eyes with an accusatory stare. I shot back a look of confusion, and she narrowed her eyes at me before sprinting after Hermione.

Hermione's POV:

I just couldn't watch it anymore.

Harry asked me a question and I looked away for a second, but when I turned back to Draco some random raven-haired girl was perched in his lap. I watched her lean into his chest, toss her hair, giggle like a fool.

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