Whispered Plea

Chapter Two

Hey guys, excited to post the second chapter! Please don't forget to like and comment, it means a lot to me. Thanks!

Draco Malfoy prided himself with being a very observant boy. He believed that he got it from his mother, a cold, powerful presence in his life. He supposed that he had inherited other traits from his mum as well; the ability to look as though everything was beneath him, and the stone cold attitude he had perfected across the years of practice and use. Sometimes, those traits did not mix very well he had to admit. 

One such time was upon him he supposed as he did his best not to glare at the girl he would be calling his roommate for the rest of the year. Or, if things went his way, he would be calling her his roommate for less than a week. Flicking a strand of blond hair out of his face Draco tuned into the conversation being held at the Slytherin table around him. Pansy was arguing that she had the right to hex anybody who touched her when she didn't want, while a fifth year held his obviously injured arm, looking very affronted, trying to argue back that he would never try and touch a girl like Pansy, as he might catch a disease from doing so. 

Apparently that was the last straw for an already angry Pansy Parkinson as she lunged across Blaise in an attempt to grab the guilty fifth year. Blaise wrapped his arms around her and with much effort struggled her writhing body back onto the bench between himself and Draco while the now frightened looking fifth year scanned the table looking for other places to sit, preferably not as close to the seething witch. 

Pansy Parkinson had grown into herself. As much as he hated to admit it, Draco had to say that she was now extremely beautiful - although he would never say it to her face as he would never hear the end of it. She had long, straight black hair with dark, intelligent eyes hooded beneath long lashes that she loved to boast about. She had a curvy body, and was in shape from the years of quidditch training she put herself and Malfoy through. As Draco's best friend and an extremely smart one at that, sometimes he feared that she knew him better than he knew himself, and to be quite frank, it scared him a little bit. 

Now that she was calm, or calmer, and Blaise was able to let her go, she turned to Draco and gave him a smile that looked more like a sneer, with barely concealed anger hiding beneath the surface.

"So is it true that the Granger's the Head girl?" She questioned. Looking away from Pansy and back at the Gryffindor table where the Harry and his red-headed girlfriend were arguing about something Draco nodded. 

"Yeah," was all he supplied the inquiring witch,  who nodded absent mindedly, also staring at the table decked in red and gold. 

"So....you two..." She started and then paused looking back at the distracted blonde boy. "You two are going to be living together?" Slowly Draco turned his head to stare at Pansy, 

"I suppose so Pansy," he conceded. A small smile came to her lips, as she refocused her gaze on her food.

"I think it will be good for you Draco, maybe you'll learn something." At this comment all that Draco could do was stare. 

"What happened to you this summer Pansy, where'd my best friend go?"

"Oh she's here, I just think that with responsibility on both of your shoulders, you two might actually get along."

"OK Pansy," Draco scoffed. She shrugged, seemingly no longer interested and returned to eating. Propping his head onto his hand Draco returned to giving the Gryffindors an intense gaze. 

Normally he would have described the Golden Trio as a lively bunch, but today seemed different. There was something off with the group of teenagers and as Draco spent more time staring he started to realize that it wasn't just one of them setting the others in a mood. All three seemed to be in their own separate worlds. Ignoring the going ons around them and the people trying to talk with them. Granger was staring off into the distance biting her lip hard and tugging absent mindedly at the sleeve of her robes. Weasley looked like he was about to fight the platter of chicken that was sitting in front of him, and Potter looked almost as though he was in pain; rubbing his forehead occasionally, and shaking his head as though trying to dislodge something from it.