Happiness Is an Angry Weasley

The night after the detention I shared with Weasley, I was lying in bed thinking.

I think I am actually beginning to develop some feelings for the stupid Gryffindor. That's not good.

That's very not good.

That's very, extremely, bloody well not good.

I'm a moron.

Why did I choose someone so... so bloody noble? I had gone into this whole plan thinking I could just have some fling, my father find out, cuff me on the shoulder and say something about silly teenagers, and go about my business out of the closet and happy.

That wasn't going to happen.

Stupid Weasley won't come near me if he doesn't think I actually like him.

When my father finds out, he'll murder Weasley and... well, he won't murder me, he expects me to bear him a grandchild.

But he isn't above using the Cruciatus on his own son.

Damn.

I'm a complete moron.

So what do I do now? I have to continue the plan. If not for the fact that I do actually think I could stand being around Weasley a bit more, then for my own sanity. If I don't start using my youthful "energy" then I may very well go mad.

I'll continue the plan, only with a slight difference.

I will actually make Weasley like me.

And no one will know about it.

------------------------

The next day in Charms, I couldn't be happier when Flitwick paired me up with Weasley. I pretended to look unhappy with the situation, knowing it would look suspicious to any one else if I looked otherwise.

"I think you two can be adults and overcome your differences, don't you?" the old dwarf said, smiling cheerfully the entire time.

He turned away to continue pairing people up before he could see the look of utter contempt Weasley shot at his back.

We found a place to sit together and Weasley immediately turned towards the board, avoiding me completely.

Hm. So you won't look at me. That's your game. You're going to avoid me. Nice try.

Oh, wait. He's actually reading the instructions. I knew that.

Our assignment for the day was to practice emotion modifying charms. Not too difficult. We had done Cheering Charms before. It was the same basic thing, we just had to concentrate on the emotional energy we sent behind the spell.

I was suddenly worried that I was working with the most hot-tempered, bipolar, idiotic Gryffindor in the room. Bollocks.

"I can only imagine that you're feeling a bit... unhappy?" I suggested cheerfully.

The redhead turned and glared at me as fiercely as he could manage. "No Malfoy, I'm happier than a first year in Honeydukes."

"Good then," I said, and pointed my wand at him and muttered the Cheering Charm before he could react.

His features immediately changed and he smiled at me.

"I hate you, Malfoy," he said happily. I smiled back and said, "I'm glad you feel that way, Weasel." He couldn't stop smiling, and I was so amused by the effect of my spell that I didn't notice him raise his wand until he had cast the spell on me.

Sad. Depressed. Oh dear God, merciful Merlin, why was I happy before? The world was a dark and evil place, and I was merely a pawn on my father's chess board.

I nearly let a tear sneak out of my eye when I saw Weasley still smiling broadly.

What's he so happy about? I wish I were a Gryffindor. Then I could be with Weasley, and my unrequited love would be fulfilled and my life wouldn't be so hopeless.

Then it hit me.

He charmed me.

I sniffed, wiping my sleeve across my eye and said, "Weasley, take this damn spell off of me before I jump off the Astronomy Tower."

He grinned, if possible, wider at that. "Y'know Malfoy, if you had said that in the first place I wouldn't have needed the Cheering Charm."

Thankfully, he raised his wand and took the spell off. I did the same to him, nearly cursing him in the same breath.

Damn Weasley.

I had something in my eye.

That was it. I glared at him.

If he wasn't so damn cute, smirking at me so devilishly, so pleased with himself...

Oh bloody hell, no. He is not cute. Stupid brain...

"For a moment there I could almost envision you as human, " said Weasley, smirking. Somehow I detected a sense of truth in the statement.

I examined his face, and sure enough there was a serious air about him. Were his feelings changing about me as well?

"And what am I normally?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

He looked thoughtful, and after a short pause turned to me and kept my gaze firmly. "You're an arrogant, conceited, immoral snake."

I was deadpanned.

Had he really said that?

Had he seriously just insulted me that badly, when I thought something meaningful was going to come out of his mouth?

Damn it Weasley, if I wasn't starting to like you I would curse you right now.

I quickly schooled my features into a glare and said, "Better than a foolhardy, ignorant, oafish babboon."

He glared back at me, and I could practically feel the electricity in the air.

Then he smirked.

What the hell?

I'm not the one who's going mad. It's this bloody idiot in front of me.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," he said, and trailed off. I looked at him, incredibly confused. I had no idea what to think of him. One moment he's insulting me worse than I think I've ever been insulted, and the next he's looking utterly adorable, tilting his head to the side, that ginger hair looking dashingly messy, those clear blue eyes with a hint of amusement behind them.

Damn it, Weasley. What are you doing to me?

I opened my mouth, not even sure myself what I was going to say, when Flitwick cleared his throat loudly.

"That's it for class today. You will be tested next class on your ability to cast the spell with various emotions, so I hope you all practiced."

Weasley, seeming to realize that he had been so open with me (of all people) for a moment, gathered his things and left quickly. So quickly, in fact, that he left Granger and Potter behind to glare at me confusedly and hurry after him.

I shook my head and looked down at the book in front of me.

"What am I going to do about him?" I questioned it. The book, seeming to know it was wiser to keep its mouth shut than incur my wrath, kept quiet.