To Like a Ferret

To Like a Ferret

Prologue

Draco Malfoy sat reading his Ancient Runes book on the farthest table of the library.

He was reading with the kind of utmost concentration one would associate with him when he was off doing one of his 'Make Potter's Life An Even More Bothersome Prospect on Top of the Dark Lord at His Heels and No Love Life to Speak Of' plans. Or what Pansy referred to as his 'coffee break musings' - which happened every hour on the hour, sharp.

After all, it wouldn't do him any good to have another Howler sent his way by his father for not beating that Beaver Know-It-All at another exam. The last one was a good one, a mark of a true Slytherin. There was detailed mention of his 'insolence' and 'laziness' and even a 'there is no excuse in bleeding hell for such atrocity to happen again and the only excuse that will be accepted is if you're snogging your worst enemy and therefore I will be forced to blame it on the Confundus Charm!' He was almost proud of that one, if only he hadn't been the addressee.

So he sat there, and made another note to his parchment, intent on his way to even higher levels of knowledge, when he heard whispers.

Loud whispers.

Loud, obvious whispers.

Gryffindolts, he thought.

Slytherins would be sneaky and cunning and perfect in every way.

Hufflepuffs, well sure, he had never wasted any thought as to how they behaved, them being Hufflepoufs and all, so enough said.

Ravenclaws would consider it almost blasphemous if they do anything bar study in the library. Draco was certain they built a secret shrine here somewhere, accounting for the thought. He would have to remember to ask Terry Boot about that again later.

Draco frowned in remembrance of the name.
He's starting to get restless. The hints and demands would start soon, Draco reflected.

He sighed at the thought, knowing he couldn't stop another one from declaring devotion and such riff-raff for him. Draco knew full-well he was superb and quite a catch. He just wished they wouldn't get too attached; they sometimes did things that bordered on the abnormal.

Like that Theodore Nott.

Draco still couldn't comprehend why he did it. Nott told him he loved him. Ugh! Like that was even possible in the span of two months.

Draco had felt sincerely sorry to let him go at that. Nott was a Slytherin and Draco became quite fond of him. Uttering such foolishness made him out to be unstable, and that simply wouldn't do at all for Draco.

And there was Roger Davies. That was short-lived, doomed from the beginning.

I was young. What did he expect? Draco snorted.

Padma Patil. She was supposed to be smart.

Then Blaise.

Draco still thanked Merlin and all the wizards up till now for giving him his presence of mind and quick wit. He refused temptation and never went out with Blaise. Cliodna's knickers, if he had, Blaise never would have stayed his friend.

And that would have been a loss, Draco thought savagely.

But the fact remained that Blaise had wanted to go out with him. Then determinedly went on a withdrawal syndrome when Draco turned him down. The whole of Slytherin House had been ablaze with worry for Blaise in the middle of their fifth year, what with Blaise's refusal to eat and sickness enveloping him every week.

Blaise loves you, Pansy told Draco one night. Draco almost choked on his own tongue.

That dreaded 'L' word.

Another 'No!' came from the bookshelf.

So Gryffindolts.

Draco stilled his quill and tried to listen. He looked up and saw Granger, her face so keyed up that her bushy hair stood even wilder than usual. She was trying exceptionally hard not to burst from excitement and bit her lower lip, hands tangled in a knot in her robes. Weasel looked pale but was grinning and doing a half-hearted attempt to push at Potter. He looked even more gigantic than ever.

He must know a charm to get tall, nature cannot possibly manage it with those scraps his family feeds him, Draco thought menacingly.

And Famous Harry Pothead appeared flustered. He was currently sporting the scarlet neck-to-ear tips look, and his fresh-pickled toad eyes were distraught and helpless and he looked like he really didn't want to be in that place at that moment at all.

Is it my coffee break already? Draco wondered, and observed the Trio with the fierce determination he usually reserved for those who beat his House at Quidditch every single game, got him detentions at the Forbidden Forest and left him oozing purple goo at the Hogwarts Express.

Draco's eyes had a tendency to flash silver-grey whenever he got irked, which in turn had a propensity to make him look even more breathtakingly handsome than usual. He distractedly heard swooning and sighs and Valentine compositions from the girls at other tables. He strained his ears to catch the conversation the Trio were having.

"No! I...now isn't really the best time!" Potter whispered fiercely.

"Yes it is Harry! We've talked about this. Go on," Granger whispered even more forcefully.

"Come on mate, no time like the present. Besides, you've been planning this for months," the Weasel interjected, earning Potter another shove.

What could those lummoxes be talking about? Draco thought irritably. I really need to study. But then again, it's never a pleasant day when Pothead escaped unhexed.

He shifted his seat closer towards the talking Gryffindors then saw Potter look at him. Draco stilled in his seat and tried not look like he was blatantly eavesdropping. He placed a blank expression on his face, and still refused to acknowledge the fact that he looked most guilty when he looked innocent.

Potter held his gaze. Draco sneered and Potter swallowed audibly. Draco briefly had an internal struggle whether he could get away with a whispered Bat Bogey Hex when Potter, the unbelievable Prat Who Slytherins Simply Cannot Believe Still Lives, seemed to muster up his bearings and strode purposefully forward.

Towards Draco.

That answers my internal struggle then, Draco thought, and whispered the Bat Bogey Hex at Potter's direction.

Potter merely side-stepped the hex as if he expected this, and lugged on to Draco's seat.

Draco, at a loss of what to do at this unusual situation, braced himself and readied his cunning aristocratic pose - the wand, the slight sneer, the tilted chin, the lifted eyebrow, the gorgeousness.

He saw that the other students in the library had noticed Harry Potter's direction, and leaned forward in anticipation of another row. Their pranks and duels had become something to look forward to in their study-filled days what with the level of creativity the archrivals had managed since Sixth Year term started three months ago. There was the 'Potter-Kissing-a-Dementor-banner' debacle, wherein the said banner popped out of thin air several inches on top of Harry Potter's head every dinner time; the 'Malfoy-lurves-Umbridge' incident, where the Slytherins' Quidditch robes flashed those words during games and practices, frogs all around croaked alarmingly at rhythmic intervals, and made the audience even the more electrified; the activation of the Furnunculus Charm on every Gryffindor Harry Potter touched, which most noticeably made Madam Pomfrey's day; the Slytherins' hiccup-bubbles day, in which the Slytherins coughed up garish pink bubbles every time they spoke, and made for a fairly Slytherin-free comment day for the school; and many others which nobody was able to prove that the culprits behind the attacks were the eternal foes, but quite apparent and entertaining to witness nonetheless, so they continued. Harry Potter had Fred and George Weasley, and that smart Hermione Granger, while Draco Malfoy had Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, those dastardly cunning Slytherins, so the whole school expected the tomfoolery to only get better.

Madam Pince looked up from her dusting and looked quite prepared to bolt in their direction the moment a snippet of trouble reached her bat-like ears. She saw a book covered with bat bogeys behind Harry Potter, and shook her head in annoyance, her eyes presenting a 'I cannot believe I haven't retired yet, having these two in my school' look.

Harry Potter stopped in front of a sneering Draco, and then cleared his throat. He fidgeted and cast surreptitious glances back to the Beaver and Weasel. The longer he stood there, the more disconcerted he became. Draco noticed Potter's bodyguards were biting their lips and seemed to be trying to give off encouraging vibes.

Which was just bizarre.

"Sod off Potter," Draco drawled, folding his arms across his chest. He drew up to his full height and was now on eye level with Potter, which pleased the blond immensely.

"I! That is...err...no...," Potter trailed off and once again, cast uneasy glances to his friends.

Draco waited.

He raised his other eyebrow.

He tapped his fingers.

He sighed.

Two times.

"I'm trying to study here, Potter, so just spit it out and let me go back to my runes. Of course, I know I am justifiably more exceedingly appealing to gawk at than that Beaver and Weasel, so I don't blame you for wanting my attention," Draco inflected condescendingly.

He's acting even more surreal than of late. I'm going to have another proper talk with Blaise and Pansy later about these sodding Gryffindolts, Draco placated himself.

"Shut up Malfoy! I have something to say to you!" Potter murmured.

"Then speak, and then begone," Draco answered. He waved his hand dismissively and turned disinterested eyes to his rival.

Potter heaved a deep breath then looked Draco in the eye. He then said something so completely idiotic that Draco just blinked and for once, willingly ditched his aristocratic pose for something he was in more dire need of, which was deafness.

Potter stared at him clearly waiting for a vocal response on his part.

"What?" Draco effected blankly.

Potter sighed and murmured that idiotic sentence again.

"Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

The words hung in the air like a terrible stench. The other students heard Potter, sod his deep baritone, and shocks of disbelief and giggles mingled with the stench in the air.

A Hogsmeade trip was something of a tradition.

A tradition in which a boy who wishes to woo his lady love would bring with him the said lass and they would then proceed to joke around, get to know each other, hold hands and drink Butterbeers at the said trip.

A tradition where stars twinkle at the sky although the said trip usually happens in the afternoon; and includes a lot of pleasantness, shyness, and as a rule, the included parties should possess at the very least, a minimal amount of liking for each other in the first place.

Like a date.

Like a romantic date.

Oh this is the best prank yet! Wonder how Malfoy would plan retribution for this one, Padma Patil's thought echoed the other students', as they all watched with ill-conceived attention.

Harry Potter witnessed how Draco's eyes flashed silver-grey and how his ash-blond hair glinted from the overhead candles, before a fist shot out from Draco's right side and pummeled him into unconsciousness.