Hopeless Attraction

Hopeless Attraction

She couldn't help but laugh as she watched his potion go up in flames again. She couldn't help but blush whenever he looked towards her, even though she knew he was never looking at her. She couldn't help but smile when he said something, whether it was in his sheepish tone or a brave and robust voice - although she had to admit, that happened rarely - but she couldn't help but hate him... after all, he was a Gryffindor and she a Slytherin; it was only natural.

It was all that she'd ever known. Slytherins were the cream of the cream and Gryffindors ought to be placed where they belong - in the trash heap. Even though the professors encouraged equal rights and that each person was an individual, it was obvious that they had their favourites... even Dumbledore liked that Harry Potter character.

Pansy had always found herself the certain of attention, after all, she was smart, pretty and had a sense of humour to boot, albeit a rather sarcastic sense of humour... but it was there, everything that anyone could every ask for. But she just never seemed to smile. Her friends noticed it; she noticed it, even Draco noticed it and he spent more time looking at himself in the mirror than at anything else. Then again, there was always Neville.

She'd heard about him on the news when she was still young. There was sympathy there; after all, who wouldn't feel sorry for someone with no parents. There was also admiration when she first met him, he might have been a bumbling fool, but at least he wasn't an emotional wreck - that's what she'd always imagined she'd be like if the same happened to her. Still, the hatred was ever present, but she couldn't help thinking what might have happened if he'd only been sorted into Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, anything other than horrendous Gryffindor.

She could daydream as much as she wanted, but she knew that their futures would never intertwine... that's why she took every opportunity possible to gaze at him with longing, inconspicuously, of course, and hope that her friends would never catch on.

"Pansy, Pansy," muttered Millicent, a rather unbecoming young girl, as she tried to tell her friend the latest bit of gossip she'd just heard about Draco. After all, it was every Slytherin girl's dream to be with him, with his slender frame and silver blonde hair.

"What?" grumbled Pansy, quickly averting her gaze away from Neville as she tried to look as though she was interested in a piece of Boomslang skin.

Their teacher, Professor Snape sidled past and nodded after looking at their progress for a few seconds before moving on to the other side of the room where Ron and Harry were hunched over the bench and whispering madly.

"It's just that," continued Millicent, watching Snape and keeping her voice lowered so that no one could hear her except Pansy, "well, it's just that Morag's been talking to people."

Pansy nodded and looked in the general direction of Morag, who was sitting next to Draco and laughing. Her black hair fell over her face, hiding her eyes from view.

"People?" She raised an eyebrow in semi interest before turning back to their potion; "does this 'people' include Draco?"

"You know she's always talking to him," sighed Millicent, a hint of jealousy in her voice, "but she said, she said that-"

"What?" insisted Pansy, looking up at Millicent with impatience. "She said what?"

"She said that he's been watching you and talking about you constantly."

"Oh," muttered Pansy, brushing her blonde hair behind her ear and picking up the knife that lay by her elbow. "Is that all?"

"Is that all?" exasperated Millicent, her green eyes grey with shock. It was every girl's dream to hear that Draco was interested in her, most of all Millicent's. "I thought you'd be excited about hearing that. I was."

"It's only Draco. I've known him for years."

"So?"

"He's boring, he's just like his father, so tied up in the old ways to give a care about what's happening in the world at the moment."

"But his family are strong in the Wizarding World."

"If that's all you need to tempt you, then be my guest. I need something out of the ordinary, something different, something exciting." Her eyes strayed for a moment towards the Gryffindors.

Neville's brow was furled as he tried hard to concentrate on what Hermione was telling him. It wasn't his fault that she was difficult to understand; she was just so long-winded.

"You like him don't you?" asked Millicent, following Pansy's gaze.

"Who?" asked Pansy innocently, feeling her face turn a dark shade of pink.

"You know," hissed Millicent, "Potter."

"Potter?" Pansy snorted, audible for the entire class.

Snape turned and eyed Pansy with interest. Potter looked at her, his face bright red with an uncertain look on his face.

"Yes Miss Parkinson?" snarled Snape, his thin fingers drumming on the desk before him, Neville's desk.

A look of uncertainty passed over Neville's face and his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he concentrated on getting this one potion right. Out of the corner of her eye, Pansy noticed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Snape stared at her, waiting for her answer, but he knew there wasn't one.

"Umm," she whimpered, trying hard to think of the detention that was quickly coming her way, "I just saw Potter add an extra sliver of Boomslang skin. Now his potion will go awry."

"He did not," yelled Harry's friend Ron, his face the same colour as his hair. "You, you Slytherin. You just want to get him into trouble."

Ron tried to get up from his seat, but was stopped by Harry and Hermione pulling him to the floor by his secondhand robes. A chortle erupted from the far corner of the room, Draco's corner.

"Enough," Snape silenced the class with one word. It was rare that he ever raised his voice, but when he did, the class stopped... dead.

All eyes were on him, but two. Neville, in his fright, accidentally added one to many lacewings, causing his potion to turn yellow and boil violently.

Shrieking, he jumped away from the potion just as it erupted. Snape, however, was not so quick and gained a mouthful of potion the colour of sour custard.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor," he bubbled, spitting the potion into a handkerchief, "Longbottom and Parkinson, stay behind after lesson."

Cleaning the cauldrons was a tedious task. Neither Neville nor Pansy could leave until Snape could see his reflection in every one.

"Can you pass me the cloth?" Mumbled Neville, barely audible. His face was ashen and he stared at Pansy with both a look of awe and fright.

Smiling, she slowly handed him the cloth, her fingers brushing his in the exchange.

Neville blushed and quickly averted his gaze to the cauldron in his hands, furrowing his eyebrows and looking deeply interested in the job at hand.

Pansy had to stifle a laugh.

There wasn't any time for careless chitchat, Snape put an immediate stop to that. His steely gaze pierced through them both and would have continued to do so if Professor McGonagall, who swept into the room looking flustered, didn't call him to the staff room.

"How long do you think this will take?" Pansy asked politely, after Snape had left the room.

"It depends on how filthy the cauldrons are," responded Neville, looking up for a few moments before blushing and looking back down at the cauldron in his hand.

Pansy couldn't help but notice that he'd polished the same spot three times now. She laughed and quickly pointed it out.

They worked in silence for a while before Neville blurted out, "you know, I never should have been a Gryffindor. I'm too clumsy."

"So?" She asked, looking up at him with her chocolate brown eyes. "The Hat put you in Gryffindor, it's where you belong."

'Nothing can ever change that,' she added to herself, allowing a small sigh to escape her mouth.

"Yeah, but look at all the points I lose all the time," he whispered.

"It doesn't seem to matter in the long run," she replied, brushing a few stray hairs from her mouth, "Gryffindor still wins the House cup every year. Besides, there is bravery in all that you've been through."

A look of confusion entered his grey eyes.

"You know, with your family and all that. I never would have been able to cope," she added quickly as she noticed his lips quiver and his eyes storm over.

"I had no choice. I had to cope."

"I understand," she whispered, placing her cloth on the bench and reaching across and gently brushing her hand on his arm.

He looked up, a look of uncertainty in his eyes.

She leaned closer to him, ready to do something she knew she'd never live down... if ever the other Slytherins found out.

"Longbottom, Parkinson," Snape bellowed as he re-entered the room.

She moved quickly and deftly, returning to her former stance.

"You are dismissed," Snape finished, waving them away with his hand.

Neville placed down the cloth and started to leave the room.

"Wait," she called, picking up his Potions book from the desk, "you forgot this."

Smiling as she handed it to him, she felt her heart drop to her knees as he took the book muttered a stilted thankyou and swept out of the room without even a second glance.

After all, Gryffindors and Slytherins hate each other. There could never be anything between them; fear would always drive them apart.

Fear of their friends finding out.

Fear of their reputations.

Fear of what each of them was thinking.

Fear of that first move, the defining moment that they both knew would never occur... not ever again.