Delusion

Up in the common room, Ron Weasley was feeling a little shy. After an entire year, he decided that he was ready to ask Hermione out. When she came up into the room chattering noisily with Harry, Ron walked over, feeling awkward. Harry looked at Ron's face and immediately got the hint, walking over to join Dean and Seamus in a discussion about Quidditch. Ron opened his mouth to speak but at that very moment Parvati descended upon Hermione. "Oh, Hermione! Did you hear about Pierre?" Hermione shook her head. "Oh my god, I didn't tell you?" Parvati continued. "I went to France this summer, and he was the hottest, coolest guy I have ever met! Oooh, I have to tell you about him!" Ron noticed that while Hermione did sit down with Parvati to gossip non-stop about the latest (Pierre, this time), she looked rather bored with the conversation. Ron sighed. Hermione was so much above him--all into this intellectual stuff. She'd probably enjoy a conversation about Arithmancy more than a conversation about boys--or with a boy, for that matter. Staring at her pretty face, Ron changed his decision. He would wait a bit before asking her out. Maybe she was meant to be the kind of girl that was always your crush, but you'd never really be comfortable going with her. He headed back to Harry and his other mates.

* * * *

Over the next few days, Harry decided that while seventh year was a lot of fun, it was so tough. He cursed himself for wanting to be an Auror--he was still stuck in Professor Snape's class. Luckily, Hermione was still there as well, although many familiar faces, such as Ron and definitely Neville, had opted not to take the grueling class. Harry hated double potions, because it meant sharing a period with the Slytherins--which unfortunately still included Draco Malfoy. But then again, why would Malfoy ever drop Potions? It was an easy A for him, without doing any work whatsoever. Now here he was in Potions, and Snape was assigning partners. Let me get Hermione, Harry prayed, please. I need a good grade, and she's easy to work with. "Let's see...let's have Ms. Parkinson and...oh, why not, Mr. Potter," Snape said icily. Harry cursed. Damn, damn, damn. Pansy Parkinson of all people. He hated Pansy Parkinson, who had a school-wide reputation as being very, very easy, and very, very bitchy. Hell, even the Slytherins who slept with the wench didn't like her. Harry grimaced up at her as Snape called out the next pairing... "Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy." Harry shot a sympathetic look towards Hermione. I'm sorry, he mouthed. She had it even worse than him.

* * * *

Draco scowled over at his partner. Yes, she was very brainy, and very pretty, but this was Granger. The girl he'd hated since first year. Hell, she'd even slapped him before! Nobody got away with that. He still hadn't come up with a truly fabulous way of getting her back. "Well," said Granger as he walked up to the table where she sat, "We've got to make a Polyjuice potion. Not hard at all, really."

"Shut up, Granger. It's damn hard," he said, his scowl deepening.

To his surprise, Granger smiled. "Not really," she told him. "It's really rather easy...I've actually ma--I mean, I'm sure it's simple," she told him. He looked at her, tuning out her words. It was something he did often--pretend to listen, but really check out. Just when he was noticing the gorgeous hair spilling carelessly onto the table, she snapped at him. "Haven't you heard a word I've said?" she said. "I've told you to bring all these ingredients and you haven't acknowledged a word I've said!"

"Sorry," he mumbled, getting up to find the ingredients. And then a thought hit him. Had he just apologized to Granger?

* * * *

Hermione felt a twinge of self-confidence when she noticed how many looks the boys had sent her way since the start of seventh year. True, she had wasted a fortune on hair stylists over the summer thanks to a cousin's wedding (and her cousin's constant yelling that she better tame her hair), but now she really had found an easy way to keep her hair less frizzy and more...soft curl-ish. Other than that, Hermione was a little surprised that boys noticed her. Nothing else had changed about her. She was still the bookworm, the shorty, and the girl with a temper. Hell, she suddenly realized as she lay in bed that night, even Malfoy had checked her out today. Not that that was really an achievement, but Malfoy, her arch-enemy, had unknowingly conveyed to her that he still knew she was a member...and a good-looking member...of the opposite sex. Hermione began to marvel. Draco Malfoy, the sexiest boy in the entire school, had checked her out. Wait--she thought suddenly--Draco Malfoy, the sexiest boy in the entire school? Sexy? True, she sighed, he was damn good-looking, but he was a bastard. Still the same old bastard. She despised him, she decided, but not his good looks.

* * * *

"So, Ron, are you going to ask her or not?" said Harry, in reference to the Welcome Back dance that the school was holding for the seventh years. This was a fairly new tradition, but from what Harry knew, Lavender and Parvati, as well as some other ditzy girls from other houses, had gone up and complained about the lack of dances. As a result, Dumbledore and his staff (with the exception of Snape) had decided that there would be a few dances throughout the school year which everyone was expected to attend. And as it was seventh year, Harry knew that everybody who went had to have a date--which meant that well, he had to have one too.

" I don't know Harry. I think she'd say no," Ron said, looking wistfully at Hermione, who in the opposite corner was doing her homework. "Who are you going with?"

It was Harry's turn to look a bit depressed. "Haven't asked anyone yet...although you won't believe who asked me today!"

"Who?" asked Ron, looking up with interest. "That fat girl in Ravenclaw? She's like a dog when you're around, you know, panting after you...rather disgusting if you ask me."

Harry scowled. "No, not her. And Ron, you ass, that's a really rude thing to say, although hell I do agree with you. No, actually...Pansy Parkinson whispered something of the sort in my ear."

Ron laughed. "She's trying to set a record--sleep with every guy in seventh year, and you're her next target! What better way than to invite you to the dance?"

"I didn't answer her," Harry said glumly. "I absolutely hate her, however, and there is no way in hell that I am going to sleep with that wench. Unfortunately, if I don't get around to asking someone...that leaves..." he scowled. "I'll just ask Hermione as a friend, then," he said, making up his mind.

"What, not fair!" Ron exclaimed. "If anyone asks her as a friend, it should be me!"

"Jesus, Ron...you're really acting like a girl! 'I like her, oh wait, no I don't. I'll ask her, oh wait, no I won't.' Make up your fucking mind!"

* * * *

Draco prowled around his common room, literally browsing for prey--a date. A nice fuck at the end of the evening was a must, so that left...well, everyone in this room, for sure. Who could resist his damn good looks? He instantly decided against Parkinson, annoying wench. He couldn't believe he'd lost his virginity to her of all people, but it was sixth year and he'd been well, a little desperate. That had been before his shaggy blonde hair had arrived, making him incredibly sexy. In truth, Draco hated Parkinson more than anyone else. She was always over him, always expecting sexual favors which he wasn't willing to give. How many times had he told her... "Parkinson, these damn good looks are wasted on you!" in his cruelest voice possible? Why did she always assume he was joking? Oh holy mother of God, here she was, walking towards him.

"Dra-co," she cooed gently. He frowned, trying to ruin his looks even though it was physically impossible (at least in his mind).

"What do you want?" he finally asked in a strained voice.

"Oh," she said, probably trying to sound sweet but instead sounding like she'd just choked on butterbeer, "just wanted to ask who you're going to the dance with."

"None of your business, Parkinson. And I'll have you know, I would never in bloody hell go with you."

"Oh, and I'll have you know that I've already asked someone much better looking to go with me," Pansy said slyly. Draco really began to pay a bit of attention. No one is better looking than I am at this school, he thought angrily. Hell, I'm sure even Granger thinks I'm hot. Wait, he suddenly thought, why the fuck did Granger just pop into his head?

"And who may that be, Parkinson?" he finally asked, as softly as possible. Anyone who knew him knew that the softer his voice, the more dangerous he became.

"Oh...just your good friend," she said, giggling a bit. Draco was smart enough to know that this did not mean Crabbe or Goyle, the bumberheads. Not that he judged boys or anything, but Draco knew they probably didn't fit well into the category of "hot".

"Who is it, Pansy?" he said, losing patience.

"Harry Potter," she said, almost laughing at this point. Draco felt his blood boiling. Of all the ways to annoy him, she'd asked Potter to the dance!

"He wouldn't go with you," he finally managed to say. "He'd never go with you."

"Sure he will...I'm going to...seduce...him," she said breathily, advancing towards him.

Draco closed his eyes. He hated Pansy's subtle, or rather, not-so-subtle moves. "Pansy," he said, holding out his hand, "I am not interested. Go try it out on Potter, but I doubt that he'd be interested either...but maybe, since that little dog has gotten no action whatsoever...he'll go for you," he added, his voice burning with hatred at the thought of Potter getting action with...Granger? Why the hell did she keep popping up in his thoughts? Filthy, sexy mudblood, he thought angrily.