"HEY - you're a girl! And so are you!"

Harry was looking from me to Hermione as if he had just seen us for the first time in his fucking life.

The dick.

"I wondered why I couldn't piss standing up." I muttered, turning a page of my comic book.

We were in the common room, supposedly doing our homework, but I really wasn't in the fucking mood. I'd just copy Hermione's later.

I had bigger things on my mind right now.

"What I mean is, one of you could go with me to the ball." Harry said, looking back and forth between us delightedly, as if he was offering one of us a free trip to Disney fucking land.

"Can't." I said, at the exact same time as Hermione said, "Sorry, Harry, but I'm already going with someone else."

"Who?!" I asked, whipping my head up from my comic in shock. "Who would ask you to the ball?"

She flinched and I felt kind of bad. I hadn't meant for it to come out sounding so harsh, but I was irritated that she hadn't told me already. I'd tell her if anyone had asked me to the ball.

Well, except for Draco Malfoy - but I still didn't really know what had happened there.

After our baffling encounter at breakfast that morning, he had walked off, the expression on his face looking as though someone had just sent a Stunning jinx at him.

"If you must know - Viktor Krum asked me!" Hermione bristled haughtily, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"But he's a champion!" I roared. This was so fucking unfair. I'm the one who likes Viktor Krum - I'm the one who shares a bed with a miniature version of him every night!

I felt like I was being cheated on.

"So?" She snapped, getting angrily to her feet. "You're just jealous because no one has asked you!"

My comic book went sprawling to the floor as I too jumped up, fury making me shake as I snarled at Hermione.

"I'll have you know I have been asked!"

"Oh yeah - by who?" Hermione spat, "and don't say Harry - he doesn't count!"

"Hey-" Harry started, who was still sat down on the sofa between us, looking up at the both of us pathetically.

"Shut up - this doesn't concern you!" I snapped down at him.

"Well, go on! Who? Make my day! Tell me - who would ask sweet innocent Ronnie Weasley out?" Hermione sing songed mockingly.

I balled my fists in fury, my chest rising and falling heavily. And I felt some kind of grim satisfaction as I spat the next words out in her face.

"DRACO MALFOY, THAT'S WHO!"

There was a loud crash as Hermione's scales fell from her hand and cluttered to the floor.

"You're joking?!" Harry spluttered, clumsily pushing his glasses back on his face where they had come askew in his shock.

"But you didn't say yes - surely?" Hermione asked, bending down to pick up her scales. "He calls me that horrid word!"

"Yeah, Ronnie," Harry whinged, looking up at me with a hurt expression on his face. "And he's always calling me four-eyes."

"Oh don't be such babies! He called my mother fat and you don't hear me blubbering about it!"

"Well, she is." Harry shrugged.

"And you have four fucking eyes!" I screamed down at him.

"Guys! Please!" Hermione whined.

"Shut up, Mudblood!" I bellowed, storming up the stairs to the dormitory.

I'd had enough of these neanderthals. I was going to bed.

*****

Oh my fucking god - my mother sent me an awful fucking second hand dress.

"What is that?!" Hermione yelped as I pulled the offending item out of its packaging the following morning at breakfast.

"Is it... dead?" Harry asked, frowning as he poked at it warily with the prongs of his egg caked fork.

"'Dear Veronica, despite being poor as day, I managed to find this in a local bric-a-brac shop. Isn't it beautiful? Apparently it was worn as a bridesmaid dress at a hag's wedding during the sixties. You'll be the belle of the ball! Love, Mum.'"

That bitch fucking hates me.

"Well, that's one way to ensure your daughter stays a virgin," Seamus piped up.

"I can't fucking wear this!" I bellowed, "it's a fucking hag's dress!"

"Dear god," came a horribly familiar drawling voice from behind me. "Please don't tell me that's what you're going to wear to the ball?"

My eyes widened in horror as I quickly tried to ram the vile purple rags before me back into the packaging. A huge dust cloud billowed out from its folds, mingled with a stench of mould, causing anyone within five metres of the offending item to cough and wrinkle their nose up in disgust at the same time.

Realising I was fighting a losing battle, I quickly gave up and shoved the whole thing under the table, out of sight.

"No," I said coolly, flicking my hair back over my shoulder as I glanced up at the white-blond haired Slytherin. "Just a textile project I'm working on with my mum."

"Oh," He said, hovering. I wondered what the fuck he wanted.

"What?!" I spat, staring up at him as he seemed to struggle to say something. "Come here to tell me you're too chicken shit to tell Pansy you're not going to the ball with her after all?!"

His face darkened as a scowl appeared. "Of course not!"

"Fine, so I guess we're still going together, then!" I roared.

"Yes, I guess we are then!" He roared back.

"Good!"

"Good!"

******

Damn it. That's exactly what he had gone over to say to her.

But he didn't like to prove her right.

So, he was lumbered with going to the ball with Weasley, then.

Perhaps he could convince Pansy it was all part of some dare?

Yes, that would work, he thought, relief making him feel lighter. Pansy, after all, liked playing games.

The only thing was, Draco Malfoy found that he didn't really know what this game was exactly about.

*****