Draco made these cool badges.

Obviously, I made out I was opposed to them, but secretly marvelled at the cleverness behind Draco's genius mind.

I mean - Harry did stink: he was a teenage boy. And Cedric was hot.

Plus, I was still mardy with Harry about that whole fucking Goblet thing.

But I had to reluctantly agree that it was pretty cool when Harry faced that fucking dragon.

"That was bloody awesome," I said, as I hesitantly approached him after the first task.

He looked at me, and I looked at him. And then we were hugging like we'd never hugged before.

I briefly wondered what it would be like to be more than friends, but then quickly dismissed that thought. It felt like imagining fucking my brother - and I wasn't into that.

So, I had my best friend back. And I had never been happier. Until Harry looked at me and said-

"I've got to ask a date to the ball. Do you know any girls?"

Well screw him. I told him I didn't - let him suffer.

But as it turned out, I was asked by someone else.

Draco Malfoy.

*****

Pansy was going to kill him. Murder him in his sleep kind of kill him.

He hadn't meant to ask Weasley to the ball. It had never been his intention when he had first approached her at breakfast that morning; keen to find something to rile her up about.

She had been sat alone, having come down late with a couple of other late morning stragglers. Draco had just finished up and couldn't resist passing the Gryffindor table on his way out.

"Got a date for the ball yet? Or is Potter taking you out of pity?"

He felt excitement spark in the pit of his stomach upon seeing the anger flash in her blue eyes.

"Fuck off, Malfoy!" She spat, slamming her pumpkin juice down on the table so hard that it sloshed everywhere.

He'd never come across a girl that cursed so much. Actually, come to think of it, he'd never come across anyone with a mouth as foul as hers.

Yet, he couldn't help but secretly admire her for it. She didn't waste time filtering out what was on her mind. She thought it - she spoke it. He didn't know many girls like that. Usually they always said what they thought he wanted them to say.

This girl, however, was refreshing.

And he liked it.

"Perhaps if you're lucky," Draco drawled on, not being able to resist, "he'll even buy you a dress. If not, I know of some old rags you could use hanging up in that shed your great oaf of a friend calls a house."

"Not that it's any of your fucking business, Malfoy," she glared, "but Harry hasn't asked me."

Draco was amused to detect a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"Trouble in paradise? Still, it must be such a drag being constantly second best to the Boy Who Lived. I don't know why you bother hanging out with him, are you that desperate for a bit of attention?"

"Shove off, Malfoy - like you're one to talk! Pansy's got you so fucking whipped that I wouldn't be surprised if she's picked out a pink fucking hankie for you to wear to match her pink fucking dress!"

Damn! How did she know? Draco fumed - he hated it when she was right.

"For your information I haven't asked Pansy to the ball."

This was somewhat true. Draco hadn't actually asked Pansy to the ball - she had just assumed, and he didn't argue when she started talking about colour schemes and showing him fabric swatches.

"Yeah right!" Weasley laughed mockingly, her eyes dancing tauntingly up at his. "That girl has got you by the short and curlies. She says jump, you say how high? Just admit it - proper fucking whipped."

Draco could barely see for the red hot anger flashing in front of his eyes.

"I do what I like and no one tells Draco Malfoy what to do!" He hissed, leaning down to bang his fist on the table in front of her.

"Prove it. Who's your date then?" She smirked, provoking him with her daring eyes.

"Well, you haven't got one, have you?" He spat, not sure where he was going with this - even at this point.

"No,"

"Right, so then I'll go with you."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Wait- what?!

******