Here is chapter 5 from Han22-x. Read, Enjoy and Review :D we both get very excited at reviews.

Why the HELL wouldn't he get out of his mind? Bloody Saint Potter, his face kept appearing at the most unexpected moments in Draco's mind, causing him to either blush – which was, quite frankly, humiliating - or fall off whatever he was sitting on. He was not wanted there, in his head. He was the most annoying person Draco knew. The most … irritating. The most…

Oh god, he had run out of insulting adjectives already.

In exasperation, as a final attempt to achieve a sense of normality - (in other words, Draco + Harry = Enemies) – Draco shook his head vigorously with his eyes screwed shut, hoping that the thoughts he was having – but shouldn't be having – about Potter would just evaporate.

But his face kept returning, his emerald green eyes, his black untidy hair, the way he bit his lip when he was talking, the dorky smile, and the way he blushed when he got embarrassed…




Oh no.

He had just spoken aloud. Oh no.

The silence around him was suddenly deafening.

Draco opened his eyes in horror. He was sitting, quite comfortably, in an armchair in the Slytherin common room; a room decorated with green tapestries and hangings, and patterned silver and green rugs which covered the stone cold floor. And sitting around him, were his friends and cronies, minus Pansy thank heavens, all lounging in other armchairs. All of them were staring at him in confusion, although one or two of them were hiding knowing smirks.

"Erm, no one said you loved Potter, Malfoy", sneered Blaise, who was one of the ones smirking. "Is there something you want to tell us?"

He laughed - a harsh, mocking laugh which was copied by some of the others in the group here and there.

How was he going to get out of this one? He was temporarily stuck for speech, something which never usually happened to him. Malfoys always remained calm, cool, and...collected.

"Erm – I – I need to go to bed, it's late and - I'm exhausted, aren't you?"

And with a completely fake, hasty laugh, he grabbed his books and sped off towards his dormitory, almost tripping over the stairs as he ran up them in his hurry.

His friends looked at each other in bemusement. Their usually calm, sneering leader had been transformed into a gibbering wreck. Also, it was only half four in the afternoon.


He lay, sprawled across his four poster bed; hair messed up, gazing up at the canopy above him. He lay, perfectly still, perfectly alone – after all, it was half four in the afternoon. He cringed subconsciously at his lame excuse – "tired" indeed.

It was no use. He couldn't relax. He kept haunting him.

Draco swung himself off the bed, smoothed out the creases in his school robes, and grabbed some random books from his trunk. He'll do some work – in the library. Potter was sure not to be there. He didn't read. Sure, Granger might be there – but he'd rather face a Mudblood than Potter at this moment in time.

He exited the common room – thankfully avoiding Pansy, who lay snoring on an armchair, and made his way quickly from the dungeons to the library, which was on the fourth floor. He raced up the flights of stairs, avoided Peeves, hopped over the vanishing steps – it was all going so well until...


He crashed into someone, and fell onto the stone floor – books flying out of his hands.

"Look where you're going, Malfoy!" snarled a voice Draco immediately recognised as Weasleys.

"Look where you're going next time, Weasley", spat Draco, eyes glinting maliciously. He stood up, still maintaining a sense of dignity, brushed off his robes and looked about for his books. Granger was there, kneeling on the floor, picking them up.

"Get off my books; you'll dirty them – filthy little Mudblood", hissed Draco, loathing evident in his voice. He snatched the books from her roughly, and turned away – smoothing down his hair as he did so.

"Take that back, Malfoy. Don't call Hermione, a – you know what!"

Draco span around, pulling out his wand, and saw that Weasley had his wand own pointed at his chest – wearing a look of extreme hatred.

"Sorry, Weasley – I'm afraid I don't understand"

Then the Mudblood interfered.

"Ron – come on, he's not worth it. Let's go, OK?" she whimpered, tugging at his sleeve. Ron looked reluctant, but in the end, he nodded and turned away unwillingly.

"Look out, Malfoy", he spat, as a way of saying goodbye. Then he walked away, Granger holding onto his arm tightly.

As they put more distance between themselves and Draco Malfoy, he heard a snatch of their conversation. Weasley was asking the Mudblood about Harry's –Potter's – whereabouts.

"He's in the library, Ron. I'm glad at least one of you has decided to take your studies seriously this year. Maybe you should take a leaf out of his book…"

Granger's voice tailed away into the distance.

Potter was in the library.

It all came down to this. Draco had a decision to make.

He could return to his common room, away from where he knew Potter was, where he could try and forget about the chosen one, and any possible – attractions – he may have towards him. This was the safest option, despite the fact Pansy was there.

Or, did he go to the library, where Potter was, where – he could see him again, and fuck the consequences? Because, deep down, Draco knew that he wanted to be where Potter was. No matter how many times he denied it to himself. He would never admit it though, never. Not to anyone.

The more dangerous option.

With a sigh of resignation, Draco turned around – towards the flight of stairs which led to the fourth floor. For once, he followed his heart – and not his head.