Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No, really?
Author's Note: Be aware of spiders, the apocalypse, and POV changes.
Malfoy and Me
An Itch to Scratch
(Ron's POV)
I had never considered myself to be much of a writer. I liked to dabble into a few ideas every once in a while when the mood would strike. Sometimes those ideas persist to the point whereas if I did not attempt to at least humour it with a little work, it would haunt me. That was where this whole mess started.
After a rather nasty altercation with Malfoy and his dumb muscles (also known as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle), I had a dream, a rather dirty and erotic dream. I wouldn't necessarily classify it as a nightmare, but it was definitely something I wish my subconscious had never concocted. Basically, it involved me, Malfoy, and a measuring tape. I don't want to go any further then that.
Then the idea popped into my head. I tried with all my mental capacity to ignore it. But the harder I resisted, the stronger and more daring those ideas became. It was unwavering in its persistence, my quill yearning for some activity.
No way. No freaking way. Malfoy was my arch nemesis. Those impure thoughts were just a result of my over-active imagination. That was all.
Still though, why did everything always happen to me? As if I haven't had enough to think about. What, with The Dark Lord, Quidditch practice and Professor Snape, my mind should havebeen pretty preoccupied. But no, there was Malfoy. There he was again. And again.
Don't worry, it got worse. One day, while eating lunch in The Great Hall, I choked and hacked up something gross onto Hermione's plate. He just happened to be passing by.
"What's that? Giving your Mudblood of a girlfriend a present?" Malfoy sniggered.
Momentarily forgetting my dreams of that particular Slytherin, I turned around to cast him an icy glare, and possibly a nasty retort if I could think of one fast enough. But the ice melted immediately.
He had that trademark smirk on his face. Something south of my border began to tingle.
Case in point; everything bad happens to me.
Suddenly, my dreams became more frequent, vivid, and disturbing. They kept telling me inspiring things, like Malfoy was hot, or that he had a firm body, or that he had a long... er, forehead. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes with my little general standing erect and ready for action.
There was absolutely no way that I could like him. I didn't think he was cute. Not at all. Not with his slicked-back blond hair, or his piercing blue eyes, or the way his lips curled up when he was happy...
Finally, I had had enough. It took a daydream for me to realize that. Yes, a daydream, one of all my own doing. It was only in the most boring class in all of Hogwarts (Charms), where you practically had nothing else to do. Malfoy was the blood-lusting vampire, and I was his willing victim, wanting to be at his mercy, for him to sink his teeth into my neck and drink my blood...
Yech. Okay, it was time for me to get the monkey off my back, so to speak.
First, I glanced around to check that no one was paying attention to me. Harry was seated beside me, writing his Charms essay (which was due the next class, by the way), while Hermione sat in front, likely done the assignment given out at the beginning of class and reading ahead for the next lesson. Typical.
From my book bag, I pulled out a sharp quill and my notebook. I turned to the next available page, and very neatly printed the title on the first line.
It was surprising how easily the letters just danced off the quill. I hardly had to think, the wording just took itself over. This just proved that I was a great writer, not that I was attracted to Malfoy in anyway.
I was so deeply engrossed in my notebook that I hardly noticed that class was over. Students were standing up to exit the class for dinner, and I had to hastily grab all my things in order to catch up to Harry and Hermione.
(Draco's POV)
After class was over, I had something to discuss with Professor Flitwick. It was about the essay he assigned that was due next class. I needed more time to finish it. Actually, I guess a better word would be to commence.
But I was confident that he would give me the extension. My father was a very powerful man. It was so tough to be wealthy both financially and socially, not to mention intelligent, handsome, and irresistible. But I tried.
"Professor?" I marched up to his desk as the other students were filing out of the classroom. "May I talk to you about something?"
"Just a moment Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick said to me. "I just have to get something out of the back room, I'll be right back." He disappeared behind a door, leaving me alone in the empty classroom. I drummed my fingers against the table and surveyed the chamber. That was when I noticed a notebook left behind at the back.
My curiosity got the better of me, and I could not help gliding over there to take a peek. Hopefully it was someone's class notes. They would be useful for that essay of mine.
The book was dogged-eared, and the pages looked like they were decaying. I picked it up by the corner with my thumb and index finger. It slipped out of my grasp and dropped back on the table, opening up to a page.
Well, since it was already open, I decided to have a glance. I could barely make out the bad penmanship, but I was sure the title read 'Malfoy and Me'. And I wasn't being conceited. It really did say that. Must just be some love-struck lady. More text succeeded the title.
As I read further and further, I became more and more disgusted. It was me. It was the writer. It was the writer and I engaging in lewd actions. It was okay to like me (and it's hard not to, if I do say so myself), but this was positively sick. How dare they violate me this way!
"Mr. Malfoy?" a voice sawed through my thoughts, causing me to jump. "Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?"
I blushed heavily. "Uh... actually," I slipped the notebook into my robes and began backing out of the classroom. "It's really not that important." Before Flitwick could interrogate me, I flew out of the classroom.
Whoever wrote this was dead.
Author's Notes: I know I was probably really pushing the Teen rating in Ron's POV, but it's all in good fun. The next chapter will come up soon. I would be entirely grateful if you were to review!