Love Is Complicated

Chapter 12

"Mr. Zabini you'll be next to Miss Granger, Potter by Miss Greengrass, Miss Weasley next to Mr. Malfoy please, and Nott by Weasley. . . These will be your seats for the time being—"

Weaselette muttered under her breath to no one in particular,"Your joking."

Draco concealed a grin as McGonagall ordered them to take out their books and a quill.

"What's the matter Weasley. . . You don't find my presence alluring?" He whispered back.

The ginger made a strangled sound but gave no retort back, for she had locked eyes with Granger, who looked absolutely repulsed, sitting next to Blaise as he stuck the tip of his wand in his ear, and examined the wax.

Again Draco couldn't help but smile. He loved seeing Granger uncomfortable.

"Now, please turn to page 394 and at the bottom you'll see a list of instructions and wand movements for the following transfiguration process. Read these over and preform them with your partner," said McGonagall. "Work for perfection, once you think you've got it come to my desk and demonstrate it for me. Due next class is a roll of parchment explaining what could go wrong if the spell is preformed incorrectly. Off you go now!"

Nothing spectacular happened that whole day. After Transfiguration, which had ended in no less than fifty different arguments between him and the She-Weasel, was Herbology with the Ravenclaws. Sprout had put them right to work, wasting no time to have them tend to several plants and pluck seeds from the middle of some nasty flower, which Draco couldn't seem to remember the name of. After an hour of nearly losing three fingers he made his way to Ancient Runes. Filled with several chatting Hufflfepuffs, a sprinkle of Gryffindors (Granger being one of them), and a handful of studious Ravenclaws, Draco was the only Slytherin.

Without much of a choice he sat at the back of the class, alone at his table. He didn't really mind though, on the contrary, Draco preferred it. This way he wouldn't have to make pointless small talk with some random prat. Perhaps this year he would actually learn something and not get distracted. He blamed Blaise for most of his negligence.

Lunch came and went, sending him to his last class for the evening; Divination. Draco had never liked that class much, Trelawney was always off her rocker, predicting student's death here and there, her great buggy, bespectacled eyes, peering deeply into theirs, with her multicolored necklaces and shawls hanging from her bony frame. What made it worse was the thick, perfume filled air, making it nearly impossible to breath.

Draco was glad when the old coot dismissed them for the day, sending them off without an ounce of homework. He made his way down to the dungeons, waiting for Blaise, Astoria, or Theo to show up.

He sat back on the jet black, leather couch, tapping his foot impatiently against the stone floor. Two or three other Slytherins entered the common room, brushing mindlessly past him as if he were part of the furniture.

"So then I told him to piss off but being the bloody git that he was, he didn't listen. In the end I gave him a nice big pair of ears to match his nose — oh hey mate."

Theo and Blaise sat across from him on the opposite couch. The cushions made a soft poof as they did.

"Where's Asty?"

Theo glanced behind his shoulder looking thoroughly surprised, "Coulda sworn she came in right after us. . ."

Blaise rolled his eyes at his friend's incompetence and shook his head, "She had to talk to Flitwick about some rubbish I'spose."

Draco shrugged and asked the two how their classes went. They responded with the same dullness as he did. Getting bored with the topic, they switched to Quidditch; who didn't love Quidditch?