So, I was reading Unorthodox Matchmakers a couple of weeks ago, and that, coupled with this .com/art/GwL-Awestruck-166144322 and this .com/art/GwL-A-Harmless-Experiment-101503942 somehow made me have a mental breakdown, and this is the response. (those links aren't complete for some reason, but put them into you search bar and the picture should come up)
God help me. What have I done?
Un-beta'd 'cuz I couldn't be bothered. Gimme a yell if you find something wrong, though.
EDIT: So there's been a little confusion. In almost every review, you guys have asked me when I'm updating. Well, I'm sorry to say, but this little thing was always intended to be a stupid little one-shot that just wouldn't go away until I wrote it. There will be no updates. Sorry to disappoint, but I have absolutely no plans for it. I was just sort of jumping on the bandwagon, but now I'm jumping off again.
Stay tuned for some more Jamie fics, coming relatively soon, though.
At the back of Draco's mind, he was distinctly aware that the reason he had originally come to the library that afternoon had been to study. What with end-of-year exams fast approaching, and his father's threat of disinheritance if he failed another subject hanging over his head, he had no time for anything else. But, what felt like the thousandth time that afternoon Draco Malfoy found himself distracted, the unimaginably boring Transfiguration book hanging limply in his hands.
The reason for his distraction sat at a table not far from his own; a fellow fourth year by the name of Jamie Rose Potter.
With a jolt, Draco once again realised that he was staring, and quickly returned his gaze to the book, sneering and disgusted with himself. Several minutes later, however, he surprisingly found his gaze returning once more to the place where Potter sat, hunched over a book, a very concentrated look upon her face, which he found to be completely fascinating. That is, until he realised that he had lost the page number of his own book.
It's Potter's fault, he scowled angrily in his head, quickly returning to the right page, What is she playing at, trying to distract me from my work?
For the entire afternoon, Draco had felt his eyes being drawn towards her like a magnet, watching with a kind of enthrallment as she turned page after page of her book, emerald eyes sliding upwards until they were at the top, before starting their zig-zag journey back down again.
With another jolt, he shook his head violently. What was wrong with him? Since day one, Potter and he had been enemies. Ever since she had refused his offer of friendship, he had seen her as a nuisance and a general waste of space. So why, all of a sudden, was he so interested in watching her? What had changed?
He studied her, leaning back in his chair and cocked his head slightly to the side, bringing a quill to his mouth. She looked like she usually did, wearing her school robes, the Gryffindor tie around her neck loosened significantly. Her black hair hung in a simple ponytail, notched at the back of her head, with two strands of scruffy stray hair which had fallen out over the day framing her face. Her striking green eyes were narrowed, moving from side-to-side as she read behind rounded glasses, which were perched dangerously on the end of her nose. He frowned.
Something as missing. Something vital that had somehow made her seem different.
And then it hit him. She was alone, the hulking forms of sidekick Weasley and sidekick Granger mysteriously absent, which was an extremely odd occurrence. He hadn't seen Potter without them in over three years.
Where were they, and most importantly, why did their absence turn Potter into such a distraction that he had barely written three words of his Transfiguration essay?
He watched as she impatiently tucked a lock of hair that seemed to have been tickling her nose back behind her ear, her eyes never leaving the page, even as she pushed the bridge of her glasses back up her nose and scratched a spot on her arm. While someone else may have seen small movements as menial and unimportant, Draco found his fascination climbing with each little thing Potter did.
When she sniffled slightly, he watched, chewing on his quill, as her nostrils flared ever so slightly. When her glasses started to slip back down again, he noted her impatience as she pushed them back up. When she went to wipe her nose, Draco found his eyes drawn to her impossibly pink lips and wondered just how she would react if he rushed over and caught them up in his own-
With a muffled thump, the chair landed back onto carpeted floor with a startled Draco Malfoy upon it. He received several scandalised looks for his trouble, but ignored every single one of them.
Had he just thought about kissing Potter? Even the thought sickened and disgusted him. Potter was his enemy. She was a show-off and a cheat, and worst of all, she was a Gryffindor. No, he should definitely not be thinking about kissing Potter, or even thinking about her in a way that wasn't how much he despised her.
Yet, try as he might, he still hadn't been able shake the image of her walking into the Great Hall hand-in-hand with George Weasley (who, since then, he had been treating with utter contempt), clad in a stunning dress of green and silver (Slytherin colours) and smiling wider than anyone else. Even he couldn't deny how beautiful she had looked that night, dancing with her Mudblood friend Granger until midnight, both of them laughing and giggling more that Draco had seen them do in the previous three years combined.
So, she had looked hot in her dress robes. That didn't explain why he had sudden fantasies of finding out if her lips were as soft as they looked.
And, yes, during the First Task, he had certainly been anxious as Potter had battled her dragon, clutching his seat a bit tighter than was necessary. And, yes, if he was absolutely honest with himself, he had been more than a little bit worried, (he vaguely remembered hanging on the edge of his seat)when Potter hadn't emerged from the lake in the allotted time in February, but so what? It wasn't as if he liked her-
Draco gave a sudden gasp, which was followed by many shushes, which he once again ignored. Did he like Potter? The very thought made Draco want to simultaneously laugh and vomit. He wanted to dismiss it immediately, banish it to a far corner of his mind, but it would not go so easily.
Did he actually like her? It was a difficult thought to process. Was it possible, that somewhere between his taunts and rude comments, he had actually started to notice how very green her eyes were, or the fact that her middle name was Rose, or that when she was lost for words, she played with her tongue until she found them? Maybe this was just another 'growing up' phase, which would pass in a few months, and everything would go back to normal.
Turning back to his clean parchment and determined to keep Potter out of his head, he was slightly annoyed when a Hufflepuff third year gave him a curious look from the table next to his. "What are you looking at?" He growled at her, causing her to squeak and run off, leaving all of her things behind.
A little too eagerly, he glanced back at Potter to see if she had noticed this, and was disappointed to find her nose still stuck firmly in the pages of that damned book. He then smirked to himself, leaning back into his chair again, twirling his chewed quill between his fingers and trying to subtly catch Potter's eye. He always liked it when she gave him attention. Maybe he did like her after all. Or maybe it was just a stupid phase. Who knew?
"Jamie!" He heard someone call, and he looked around again to see Weasley and Granger, both looking annoyed and anxious, approaching her table. For the first time, Potter showed some form of life, sighing silently for some reason, before carefully marking her page in the book and closing it.
Draco quickly leaned back over his own book, opening it at a random page and pretended to be scratching away with his quill. He was close enough so that he could eavesdrop on their conversation, but far enough away so that they wouldn't be suspicious. It would not do for the Golden Trio to see him spying on them.
He watched from the corner of his eye, as Weasley and Granger sat down in seats on either side of Potter, Weasley quickly pulling off his robes and dumping them unceremoniously on another chair, loosening his tie in one swift move.
He must think he's so cool, Draco thought, Showing off for Potter and Granger.
"Why did you sneak off? Have you been here the whole time?" Weasley asked Potter, and she nodded in reply, looking annoyed for some reason. "Blimey, Jamie, if you spend any more time in here, you'll turn into Hermione."
Potter gave an involuntary snigger, which she turned into a cough, and Draco noticed, as he pretended to turn a page, how Potter covered her mouth when she did so, showing him 5 fingernails painted sky-blue.
Granger scowled at the pair of them, pulling from the inside of her robes a piece of parchment and began reading off of it. It seemed to be a list of spells that Potter had to learn for the Third Task (which Draco suddenly remembered was only a few weeks away) and started ticking off the ones that Potter had apparently already learnt (which he found rather impressing) before finally suggesting that they stop wasting time and head off to practise the rest.
"Aw, Hermione," Potter groaned, "I was hoping to take tonight off. Besides, you two need to study for your exams."
Granger gave Potter a long-suffering look, telling Draco that they had had this particular conversation before, "We've told you a million times, Jamie, you're more important! Which means, you need to practise. Every day, if need be. And anyway, I thought you said you wanted to win the Tournament."
"I said I might have a chance at winning the Tournament," Potter retorted in an angry whisper, as the vicious librarian, Madam Pince, passed by and sent them a disapproving look. The trio waited until she had moved on before they continued their conversation.
"I think Hermione's right, Jamie," Weasley said, as the two girls started to stare daggers at each other, and Draco found himself forgetting his essay once again and staring openly at them. "You're going to need all the practise you can get in that Maze."
"I know that!" Potter snapped back, switching her glare onto Weasley, before lowering her voice again, "Look, I know you two are trying to help, but all the same-" She stopped mid-sentence, in the middle of glancing around for the returning figure of Madam Pince, and Draco suddenly realised she was staring right at him with her mouth slightly open. He made to quickly returned to his work, but the damage was aleady done. "You know what," Potter said in a louder voice, and Draco felt like cursing, "I think you two are right. Come on, let's go."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Weasley and Granger's confused looks, before Potter pointed to Draco with a low whisper, the both of them nodding their heads in understanding when she then pointed towards the door. They all gathered their things (Weasley slung his robes over his shoulder) and stood up to leave.
Draco found himself panicking slightly as they drew nearer to him (to get to the door they had to pass by right next to his table). Part of him wanted to keep his head down and let them pass unchallenged, but another part, his Slytherin side, demanded he be no coward. And so, before Potter could even take three steps, Draco had moved to place himself in front of her, immediately snatching the book from her hands.
"Well, well, well, what have we here," he sneered, enjoying the look of outrage on her face and immensely liking the attention Potter was giving him. Like pulling a little girl's pigtails, he thought. "If it isn't the Yellow Three, Potty, Weasel and Mudblood."
Potter's wand was in her hand so fast, he never even saw it come out.
"Give it back, Malfoy," she demanded, a fire blazing in her eyes, and Draco suddenly realised how much he enjoyed her looking at him like that, and was glad of an excuse to look back.
"Or what?" He snarled, glancing at the book and doing a comical double take. He vaguely remembered it from his mother's collection of sappy romance novels she had in their home library. He laughed. "I didn't take you for a romanticist, Potter."
He enjoyed watching as she went pink, rage spelled out in every feature of her face. She raised her wand, but before she had even opened her mouth, the book flew out of his hands.
"Accio," Weasley said, catching it.
By this time, everyone in the near vicinity seemed to have forgotten about their homework, and were giving Draco and the Trio their full attention, some openly looking eager for a little excitement to spice up their boring day, while others were sneaking glances from behind open books.
"What's wrong, Potter?" He teased for the sake of the audience, "Can't even fight your own battles, so you have to have Weasley do it for you? That certainly won't help you in the Maze." He scoffed. "Tsk tsk, at least with Diggory, Hogwarts at least has a chance at winning the Tournament. Although, I wouldn't bet on it."
He smugly fingered his Support Cedric Diggory badge, pressing it so that it flashed the words Potter Stinks at her.
There was a great scuffle, as Potter made to take a swipe at Draco, who immediately leaped back with a horrified yelp, Weasley and Granger grabbing and hauling her back before her fist made contact. He watched, a little bit shaken, as the Trio wrestled with each other, Granger furiously trying to hold Potter back as she made more attempts to lunge at Draco, and Weasley trying half-heartedly to help, while looking like he wanted to take a swipe at Draco himself.
"He's not worth it, Jame," Weasley muttered as Potter finally went limp, giving up her struggles. All three of them sent Draco a death glare.
"No fighting in the library!" Madam Pince shrieked, appearing from around the corner. "Out, out, all of you!"
Draco watched with a sense of amusement and accomplishment, as the Trio were forcefully shepherded towards the door, each of them protesting loudly and drawing more curious gazes from all over.
"It's was Malfoy, Madam Pince, he provoked her-
"-stupid ferret had it coming-"
"-he took her book-"
"-I never even made contact-"
"Quiet!" The librarian shrieked over the top of them, "This is a library, for heaven's sake, not a school yard!"
And to Draco's ever increasing amusement (he was now holding his stomach to hold in silent fits of laughter) Madam Pince snatched Potter's sappy romance book out of Weasley grasp and stalked away, leaving them to find their own way out of the door.
As they turned and gave him once last contemptuous, Draco suddenly felt the same sense of panic he had felt before and cast around for something, anything to say to Potter's retreating back. He ended up half-shouting, just as her ponytail whipped out of sight, "What's wrong with you today, Potter? Is it your time of the month or something."
Potter's footsteps stopped, and he could imagine her turning back and lunging towards the door, reading to pounce across the room and crash-tackle him to the ground. His smirk was quickly wiped from his face as he heard her voice echo back through the door.
"You're right, Ron. He's not worth it." And then several sets of footsteps made their way up the corridor beyond, fading quickly.
Vaguely aware that everyone in the room was gawking openly at him, Draco, feeling slightly numb at Potter's words, retook his seat and found himself staring at the blank parchment. The silence continued until, eventually, someone nearby giggled, and the people surrounding him returned cheerfully to their whispered conversations and homework. He sat in silence, getting absolutely nothing done and thinking only of Potter's last words and wondering whether she truly meant them.
"He's not worth it." She whispered, over and over in his head. "You're not worth it, Draco, so you shouldn't be thinking about kissing me."
It was dinner time when he finally gathered together his equipment in frustration, thinking he could throw something together to satisfy McGonagall later in the evening, but knowing Potter would probably distract him from that too.
Funny how only she could do that to him.