A/N: Here, I venture back to my original OTP, D/Hr. Ah, how things change. Well, here it is. Quirky. Slightly funny. Enjoy.
Instinct: n. unlearned behavior.
Well. Looking back on the past ten minutes, I see what I've done wrong.
1. The obvious: I snogged Hermione Granger.
I know what you're thinking! I don't have any feelings for the Mudblood bitch. It was just... oh, bollocks, forget it.
2. When I realized my girlfriend Blaise saw me snogging the Mudblood, I tried to comfort her.
"Oops" was not what she wanted to hear. Who knew she had an arm like that? My jaw still hurts. Smarter moves could have been made, especially considering my smooth Slytherin wit. I think Blaise has taken a self-defense class. I think I need to take one.
3. After she hit me, I called her a cold-blooded bitch.
Do you know Blaise Zabini? She's rather vicious. Cold-blooded bitch is pretty much the right phrasing. You don't want to get on her wrong side. I've seen her make Flitwick cry. (Side note: Never mess with a woman who wears spike-heeled boots. I think one of my toes is broken.)
4. When Blaise walked away, I tried to get her back.
She also doesn't take bullshit.
5. When I turned around, I didn't expect to be hit.
Life lesson #136: Always expect to be hit after snogging an enemy.
6. When Weasley said something, I insulted him.
Enough said. The Weasel turned bright red and began cursing at me.
7. When Potter dragged him back, I said something.
Life lesson #137: Never say "I dare you to hit me" unless you mean it.
8. I got the attention of most of the Transfiguration class nearby by yelling "Bloody wanker" at the top of my lungs as I hit Weasley.
Note to self: Don't get into arguments anywhere near McGonagall. She's got quite a grip on her.
And here I am, in McGonagall's office, nursing a bloody lip, hell, a bloody face altogether, and wondering why the hell I did that.
It's not as though Granger's pretty. Buck teeth--well, not anymore, I suppose that's my doing from fourth year. She's also grown quite a bit of leg in the past couple of years. Still the same bushy-haired Mudblood as ever, though.
She's too smart for her own good. Although Blaise is smart, she at least knows the line between smart and know-it-all. I suppose I don't need to worry about Blaise anymore.
The Mudblood also has incredibly awful taste in friends. The dreadful Weasel and Potter. They're like some sickeningly sweet superhero team churned out by some comic book. The Terrific Trio, or something along those lines.
It makes me sick.
Although, considering all of what just happened--growing bruises and all--I feel good, and that makes me feel bad.
Unless I've gone mad--a perfectly logical possibility--I just snogged the Mudblood. All sense demands I should now go and be sick in the nearest trash can. Everything my father has taught me demands this. There was no way that I could have actually felt anything towards that repulsive squirrel of a girl.
I touched her common, unworthy, contemptible skin, and yet...
I enjoyed it.