Title: Staring

Author: feltonxmalfoy

Pairing: DM/RW

Rating: K+ just to be sage

Warnings: winging!Draco

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: Draco has a staring problem and Pansy has had enough.


The Slytherin was busy working out her argument against the 'danger' of the Imperius curse for Defense Against the Dark Arts and didn't bother to look up. "Yes?"

"What's wrong with me?"

"I haven't the slightest what you're talking about."

"I can't stop staring at Weasley. Why can't I stop staring at Weasley?"

"Which one?"

"Please don't make me say it."

Frustrated at having been good and well interrupted, she set her quill down and scrunched her nose up in distaste at him. "Draco, be reasonable. I can't fully assess your insanity level if you don't tell me which one you're infatuated with."

"I'm not infatuated!" He spit the word out as though it left him with a filthy aftertaste, like kissing a mudblood accidentally. Not that she had; that incident with Dean Thomas was only a nasty rumor and no one would get her to admit otherwise.

Pansy merely shrugged."You're the one staring. Now is it Ginny or Ron? Because, if it's Ginny, that's understandable. She has come into certain... attributes that certainly do not leave her unnoticeable to teenage male hormones, muggle-lover or not."

Draco ducked, peering around as though she'd just proclaimed that the Dark Lord would lose and they were about to be hexed into nothing by half their house. "Pansy, shut up. A good friend wouldn't be trying to make her best mate nauseous. Honestly..."

"So it's Ron that you're enamored with, then?" The corner of her mouth went up in an amused smile. Draco looked thoroughly scandalized.

"I am not enamored with Weasley. I just can't stop staring at him. Make it stop."

"Afraid my powers do not extend to anti-love spells. Perhaps Professor Snape could concoct a potion for you?" Her sarcasm seemed to be lost on him as he brightened at the thought.

"Yes, a potion. Perfect. Thank you." He leaned over to peck her cheek before standing and heading toward the doors, but not before shooting a few furtive glances at Ron. The redhead never even noticed, too busy bickering with the mudblood, whom Pansy and the rest of Slytherin who wasn't a love-sick blond suspected was his girlfriend.

"You are not going to believe this. I've been to see Professor Snape three times, explained my predicament, which is dire, and yet... nothing. He won't even consider it, let alone do it. He wouldn't even suggest a book I could look at to make one myself. He just keeps giving me this look like I've lost my mind, which I'm starting to believe I have, and then sends me away." Pansy watched lazily as Draco sat down three days later for lunch, not stopping his diatribe until she was sure he'd run out of oxygen. He fixed himself a plate, all the while shooting glances at the other side of the Hall, and then turned to acknowledge her. "What do I do?"

"I have no idea. Maybe talk to Justin Finch-Fletchly?"

He bristled at the thought. "I am not talking to a Hufflepuff! Apparently, I am not the only person here that has lost his mind."

"Well, he is the Head Boy. Maybe he'd look at the situation objectively?"

"He's a Huffepluff, absolutely not."

Frustrated, Pansy gave up, and they spent the rest of lunch in silence, Draco's eyes rarely straying from a flaming red head three tables away.

"The Hufflepuff was absolutely no help, I can not believe you suggested I go it him."

"You actually went to him?" Surprised, Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. When she'd suggested the idea three weeks before, she'd never dreamed that Draco would actually do it. He hated Hufflepuffs as much as Muggles, if not more.

"What else was I suppose to do? You wouldn't help me, Professor Snape wouldn't help me, I certainly was not going to bloody Pomfrey, the only choice left was the mudblood. But, as I had already stated, he was absolutely no help. He told me to tell Ron, wait for the righteous indignation to pass, and then snog him silly. As if I ever had any intention of snogging... snogging that poor, pathetic excuse for a pureblood--"

"I think you should," she said, effectively cutting off what she knew would turn into a lengthy diatribe otherwise. He paused, mouth open and salt shaker poised inches above his plate.


"I think you should tell Weasley. If he doesn't go for it, then you know and you can move on to staring at that Ravenclaw, Boot, or someone equally as fit and forget all about him. If he does, which I don't see how he couldn't with your looks, then you can snog him whenever you like." It sounded like a completely reasonable plan of action to Pansy, but Draco looked about ready to start a snit. Sighing to herself, she made a quick glance to make sure Weasley was in his seat, stood, and hauled her best friend up.

"What are you doing? Why are we standing?" He looked like a trapped animal, eyes darting for the nearest exit.

"You'll see, come along." Taking hold of his hand and ignoring the squeek of protest he gave, she walked determinedly towards the Gryffindor table. The Golden Trio were chattering away like little, cheery birds in a nest, completely oblivious to their advance until Pansy tapped Granger on the shoulder. The mousy girl jumped and turned to glare at her, her two companions turning a second later to join in the stare-down.

"What do you want, Parkinson?"

"I would like you to budge over. Draco needs to speak to Weasley." She felt Draco stiffen behind her, tugging at the back of her robes.

"Malfoy can say whatever it is standing," growled the Weasel, fist clenching around his fork so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Draco doesn't have anything to tell Weasley. Can we go back to lunch now?" he pleaded into her hair, sounding for all the world as though she'd just asked him to tell the Dark Lord that no, he'd rather not take the mark, thank you, and, in fact, is shagging a muggle.

"Draco, either you're going to tell him or I am. Either way, he's finding out. I'm not sitting through any more of your whinging over this." Draco pleaded with his eyes, any trace of the proud Malfoy stature completely gone in favor of a six-foot five-year-old whimpering for his life. It didn't matter, though, this had to be done. He'd been driving her up the walls for weeks and it was going to stop before she had to hit him over the head with her Ancient Runes tome. "Draco, tell him."

He looked around the Hall as if to find someone that would help him out of his situation, but those that were actually paying attention looked more interested than sympathetic, and in the end he sighed and let his shoulders slump. "I um..." He scratched the back of his hair and kept his eyes from the Weasel, who was shooting him evil death rays. "Weasley, I..."

"Spit it out, Malfoy. I'd like to hex you in time to finish my lunch." He looked as though he fully intended to do so.

Something in Draco's manner broke, or strengthened, or something of the sort, because he straightened, looked Weasley directly in the eyes, and burst into a raging rant. "Weasley, you are driving me completely mad! I can not stop staring at you and you are completely to blame for it! The way you eat your food, the way you brush away that abomination of red fringe that gets in your eyes, the way your speak with your mouth open and don't look shameful when your admonished by Granger. And Granger!" He turned menacingly to her. "Why do you insist on constantly touching him! He is not to be touched!" He turned back to Ron, snit still up to full power. "She is not to touch you! It's all entirely vexing and I will tolerate it not longer! You are going to follow me back to my table, finish lunch, and then we are taking our break in my room, where we will snog. If you refuse, there will be consequences so vast and terrible the world shall tremble at their very thought i/ ! Are we of an understanding?"

Potter and Granger stared at him in awe, mouthes gaping and eyes unblinking. All was frozen in the Hall as the student body, all of which had come to attention at some point during Draco's tirade, awaited Weasley's reply. Weasley himself looked as though his anger had been completely forgotten in favor of studying Draco cautiously, as though to determine his earnestness. After a pause of what felt like an eternity, but was in fact only a few moments, he seemed to come to a decision.

"Yeah, all right." He pulled his bag onto his shoulder and stood, but then paused. "Except we're snogging in my room. Your housemates might ambush me." Draco seemed to ignore the last bit, the arrogant Malfoy stance back as he turned to lead Weasley back to his seat with him. As soon as they sat down, the hall broke into excited conversation, most of the school looking scandalized. As Pansy headed back to her seat (or rather the seat next to hers, as Weasley had taken hers) she took in the looks of horror and sat to lunch with a self-satisfied smirk. Peace at last.