Shae Finnigan || Draco Malfoy

2 - The Git

Dean and I stop short when we run into Draco Malfoy leaning lazily against a tree and looking utterly relaxed despite the chaos surrounding us.

A sneer immediately flickers at the white-blond haired Slytherin's lips, his grey eyes glittering at Dean.

"Well, well," he drawls, "I'd be running scared too if I were you, Thomas."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snap, feeling a stirring of hatred in my stomach.

The first time Draco insulted Dean, telling him he doesn't belong in this world, Dean started yelling at him, saying he'd got enough of that racist crap in the Muggle world and didn't need it here too.

I had to gently explain to Dean that Draco was talking about his blood, much to the great amusement of Draco.

"I don't give a shit about the colour of your skin, you stupid Mudblood." Draco had sneered.

This had earned him a punch in the mouth from me. No one talks to my best friend like that.

Since then, he pretty much stayed out of our radar, probably fearing another knock to his precious face.

But now, here we are, finding ourselves facing off amidst the post-game drama.

"Finnigan, they're after Muggles," Draco says, a hint of a smirk at his lips. "D'you want to see your boyfriend showing off his knickers in mid-air? Because if you do, hang around... they're moving this way and it would give us all a laugh."

Dean quickly grabs my waist before I can lunge at Draco.

"Damn it, Shae," Dean grits as he struggles to hold me back. "The idiot isn't worth it."

"I hate you!" I snarl and spit, glaring at Draco. "You loathsome maggot!"

Draco simply laughs. "I'd listen to the Mudblood, if I were you. Run and hide while you can."

Dean drags me away. Merlin, I feel such fury, I just want to claw that Slytherin's face off.

"Why didn't you let me smack him one?" I say furiously as we continue deeper into the wood. "He cannot get away with speaking like that."

"Because," Dean says with exparation, "he really isn't worth it. His father is a powerful man and can give you lots of trouble."

"I don't give a shit about Malfoy's father!" I holler, literally shaking with anger. "Someone needs to put that little prick in his place."

"Well I give a shit," Dean insists, stopping to put his hands on my shoulders, looking down at me with a earnest expression, "if anything happens to you, I'd be very upset."

A sigh escapes my lips as I look up into his beautiful face. I wonder how he cannot tell that I'm utterly in love with him, how the expression on my face does not give me away.

"I need you," Dean continues, "I need you there at Hogwarts with me, Shae."

Slowly, I nod. I don't say anything because I can't. He has left me completely speechless.

My heart races as I look into his eyes, but before I can open my mouth to tell him that I need him too, someone casts a Dark Mark into the sky, and the moment is ruined.

******

All anyone can talk about on the train is the Quidditch World Cup.

Dean and I have many visitors in our compartment, wanting to know our version of events. There is a lot of interest surrounding Dean given his blood status.

"You know, there's a small chance I may not even be a Muggle-born." Dean reminds me. "And all of this fascination would be for nothing."

Dean's dad is actually his step-dad. Nothing is known about his biological father because his mother refuses point blank to talk about him. Dean doesn't even know if he is dead or alive.

"But surely your mam would have said something when your letter came along?" I ask, finding the whole situation bewildering. "Unless she genuinely didn't know, I suppose. Me mam after all kept it from Dad."

"Yeah well it shouldn't make a difference," Dean shrugs morosely. "I'm still a wizard. But then maybe it would get gits like Malfoy off my back."

"Speaking of..." I mutter as I catch a flash of white-blond hair out the corner of my eye.

"Well, hello there, Mudblood," Draco smirks as he slides open the door. "I see they didn't get you. Still, there's plenty of time yet. Just you wait and see."

"FECK OFF!" I yell, ripping the still cheering Ireland rosette off the front of my robes and throwing it at his startled face.

Sadly, he quickly slides the door shut just before it can reach him. The rosette hits the door and flutters pathetically to the floor.

'Troy! Mullet! Moran!' it squeaks feebly.

"Twat," I mutter, grinding my teeth as I glare at the closed door.

******

"It was really nice meeting your mother," Harry says to me as we all take our seats at the Gryffindor table for the welcome feast. "She seems really swell."

"Swell?" I ask, looking at him in bafflement, "what kind of word is that?"

"It's Harry's way of saying your mother is a milf." Ron says thickly, spraying bits of Yorkshire pudding everywhere.

"She is married, you know." I bite irritably. "Happily."

"Hey, it's not a bad thing," Fred Weasley chuckles as he winks at me, "especially as they say daughters end up looking like their mothers."

I squirm in my seat. I do not like people talking about me Mam this way. It's true she is beautiful, but she's still my mother.

"You boys are disgusting!" Ginny scowls, "sex, sex, sex, it's all you ever think about. I'm sick of hearing about whose knickers you all want to get into next."

Next?! I look around at my fellow Gryffindors, wondering who has been getting it on with who.

Fred and George nudge each other with elbows, smirking. I can imagine they get a lot of action: good looking and Quidditch players. Not to mention funny.

But Harry or Ron? I shudder, helping myself to a large portion of Spotted Dick.

As I chomp away, I can't help but glance up at Dean, who is lecturing Neville on why football is better than Quidditch, and my heart does a funny kind of flutter. Does he ever think about sex? He seems more into football than girls. But who knows? I've certainly never shared my desires with him. Mainly because they all involve him.

My thoughts are interrupted by Dumbledore who announces that Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year. Dean and I share an excited look. It's about time something which doesn't revolve around Harry Potter happens in this school.

I mean, the dude is okay, I have no hate towards the guy. He had - after all - won us the house cup three years running. And he is awesome at Quidditch. But there is something which I cannot quite put my finger on that irritates me about him.

I don't know, maybe I'm just a jealous bitch.

That night I go to sleep dreaming about being school champion. I know I'm underage, but a part of me cannot help but imagine what it must be like to be shrouded in such glory. Me mam would be proud.

******

The following day, during breakfast, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher lives up to his name by turning Draco Malfoy into a ferret.

What a mood.

******

"Fuck me!" Dean hisses in my ear as we watch the Durmstrang students strut out of their ship thing. "It's Viktor Krum!"

"Nah, can't be," I say, squinting into the distance, "he's a national Quidditch player. Surely he'll be getting a lap dance in some high end strip club right now?"

But no, instead here he is at our crappy school where students' lives are threatened on a yearly basis.

Guess he has a death wish then.

******