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Of Jealous Kisses And Dangerous Games by Snitchsista
Chapter 2 : Chapter Two: First Moves
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 4

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Chapter Two: First Moves
The start of a new day, the start of a new game.

Laughing to myself, I practically jump out of bed, and make my way to the Great Hall. As is suspected, his eyes follow me when I go in. Pretending I haven't noticed anything, I smirk, sliding up to the Gryffindor table. I can't believe it. The scheme is already working. Ginny watches Malfoy, as he continues to gaze longingly at me. The hardest part of my little plan is I have to go along with it . . . . but not yet. Ron and Hermione join me in a stony silence. There's been another argument, I can tell. Sitting quietly, I shovel some baked beans onto my fork, and act as though I am completely unaware Malfoy's staring at me with a fixed, burning desire. Ginny runs up, and I fake pleasure at having seen her. “Hello!!!!” My pitch is increased. “I haven't spoken to you for ages. How are you?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Fine. Um, Harry, do you know that Draco's giving you a very strange look?”

“Huh? What? Strange in what way?” I ask with as much innocence as a newborn lamb.

“He's . . . .” she tries to find the most fitting way to describe it, but instead, shakes her head. “It doesn't matter, except . . . . have you two decided to be civil with each other?”

Celebrating inside, I take a sip from my milk. “No. Why?”


The hollowness of her reply makes me want to sing. The plan's working. I can't believe it's working. She's going to get so jealous, so confused, so . . . . and then, my joy vanquishes. It's Emoz. He's strolling up to our table, smiling thinly at me. It's almost as if he knows that I saw them kissing. Fake grin plastered, I gesture for him to sit down. The atmosphere sucks me into its deathly oxygen, spiralling from one guilty conscience to another. Or are they guilty? It sickens me to think that Ginny isn't.

Emoz however, keeps on avoiding my face, and glancing down at his empty plate. “So . . . . what did you do last night?”

I pause. “I was out playing Quidditch; a practise match.”

Emoz nods. “Uh huh. How'd it go?”

“Oh yeah,” I reply, wishing to punch him in the nose, “Yeah it went fine.” Silence swallows the four of us, and I take ample time scanning the back of the Hall. Shame. Malfoy's facing the other way. This could have got interesting. But just as my hopes are on the point of being punctured, he stands up and strides towards me. “Ginny, Ginny. Look who it is. He might tell us why he was acting so weirdly.”

Draco opens his mouth, stopping short at the sight of her. “Harry. We need to talk.”

Ginny frowns. “Er, why is he calling you by your first name?”

I shrug. “You know, I honestly don't know. Malfoy, what are you doing? You know we're enemies. Go away.”

He looks confused, and right then I could have hugged him! Yes. Everything is going the way I want it. “But Harry . . . .”

I sigh. “What is it?”

“Not in front of them,” he whispers.

“Sorry guys,” I apologise, and leaving Ginny in a state of shock, I keep up with Malfoy as he leaves the Great Hall. “Look, I know we're together, but that doesn't mean you have to be my shadow. Besides, I had to act like you weren't with me. Imagine what Hermione would say if she ever found out about us?” Disappointment settles like snow on his pale features, and I add, “though you know I love it.” He smirks, clutching my arm with his. “So, what was it you wanted to say?”

He smiles. “It's Dumbledore's Birthday party coming up, and I was wondering if we could attend the ceremony as the couple we are.” Oh, I wish I was recording this. It would be such a laugh to play back to the rest of the school. “That is to assume, if you want to come with me?”

Feeling sick to the stomach, I nuzzle my nose close to his, and place my hands around his waist. His eyes grow as big as dinner plates, and he leans forward against my chest. Oh, this is weird this is weird. The sooner the plan finishes, the better. Grinning, I envision Malfoy's reaction as he realises that the whole thing was a set up; that everything was to get back at a 'Weasley.' Boy, he would be angry . . . . but not now. I stroke back his hair, and watch as he does the same to mine. It's only just occurred to me. We're in full view of passing students if we stay here. There must be some other place to go, but where? Could we have our own special place? I give it a try. “Mal, Draco,” I switch, “Why don't we snuggle somewhere, privately?” Subtle satisfaction alights in his grey eyes and he touches my knee. I jolt, unable to comprehend that this is real. It has to be some sort of ghoulish nightmare, right? I'm going to wake up tommorrow, and Ginny's episode with Emoz will have never happened. That way, this (what is appearing to be) sex with Malfoy will have never ever occurred. No. I will be with Ginny, and nobody else.

“Harry,” he moans, fixing me with a stare of seduction, “There's a broom closet down here.”

“Oh, right.” Then, remembering I'm meant to be madly in love, say, “Yes. Come on. Quickly though, or people will see us.”

He nods sharply, ducking down and nibbling my neck like some sort of Vampire.

“Easy, Draco. Wait a minute. We need to find it first. Can't be making out before we've even gone in. It's a secret, remember?” I have never felt a time when my ribs have wanted to snap more. I can't believe this is actually happening. Malfoy really thinks I'm romantically connected with him. On the one side, it's sick. On the other, it's such a laugh. The next step of my plan is to drop hints to Ginny that I like men. That's going to be great. Draco relaxes his head back, and sighs, pushing me forward. Oh no. Where is this so called closet? It better not be too, oh. There. Playfully, he steers me in, locking the door behind him with a swish of his wand. Fingers spread over, hot breath panting in my ears, our bodies close to the wood, Draco's groans of satisfaction. Yuck. I am hating this, but there's nothing I can do. If I really want to convince Ginny that we're together, it's going to take more then five minutes in a dank old closet.

It's going to take the best acting I have ever done before in my life.

“Come on, Harry. Kiss me.”

I can't laugh, I can't laugh, I can't laugh.

“Kiss me like you kissed me in bed.”

Oh god. This is too much. Oh god. I back away, unsure whether I can carry on this false pretence. Oh, but Ginny . . . . I have to. There's no doubt in my mind that it will work really effectively. I just have to keep it up. I must keep her guessing. Disgusted, but with no way out, I close my eyes and wait for him to parade my mouth, which he does. His hands start trailing their way down my jeans, and I think of being anywhere but here. The Common Room, with all its glowing embers, the kitchen in all its pear painting splendour, um, er, the, ow, the, Malfoy. No no way! Not there, not! . . . . He gives another moan of pleasure, before sliding down the cupboard wall, groaning under his breath. Rooted to the spot, I can only think of the end result . . . . Ginny would be devastated. She'd never cheat on me again. Hopefully. The the thing is, I know how much she hurt me, but I have to forgive her. We're perfect together. Coupled with the thought that Malfoy will actually have my head by the end of all this, I decide it's worth the risk. I can't wait to see his revolted expression. However, there is that small risk that I might actually heave, if he doesn't stop soon . . . . and it's when his fingers pry open my zip that I shriek.

“Um, you know what? We might get caught. Draco, we can do this another time. What if Filch catches us?” I persuade.

“I don't care,” he murmurs, “You know I don't. I want the whole school to know.”

How much potion did I give him? You're only meant to tip half in. Frantically, I search my jeans for the familiar bottle, and my eyes nearly fall out. Accidentally, I poured all of it in. That's why he's wanting sex, and all the time! This is too much. I don't want Ginny to think I'm the kind of homosexual who sleeps around. It has to look genuine. I can't . . . . don't . . . . won't . . . . shan't, but I have to. “Malfoy?”

His eyes light up.

“Are you really in love with me?”

He looks affronted. “Why have you started using my last name, Harry?”

I sigh. “Because it's what I used to call you. Don't you remember? We used to be enemies.”

“Used to,” the Slytherin slurs, creeping his hands along my back, “but not anymore. Now we're lovers. So,” he added, licking my face, “Does that answer your question?”

“What,” and then I remember what he's talking about. I asked him if he was in love with me . . . . “Oh, yeah. Yeah it does. Look, M, Draco,” I continue, pulling him into a hug, “I've got so much homework tonight. Why don't we meet up after Charms tommorrow, yeah? Then we could go for a drink at the Three Broomsticks or something. How's that?”

He nods, though a mishevious glint appears in his eyes. “Sounds interesting, but I know what would be more so.” Excited, he drops his volume, and kisses my nose, “Why don't you come in my bed tommorrow? You know; for our monthly massage session?”

The idea makes me want to puke, but I think of Ginny, and sigh resignedly. “Yeah, sounds great.”

Draco Malfoy opens the door, and ushers me out of the closet, looking back with a longing expression. In a way, it seems kind of sweet. Who would ever have thought I would be able to make Malfoy half way decent for once? But then, I admit, potions is really clever, a lot more then I'd originally thought. He waves, and are there tears? No. Yes. Yes, there are!

“You have no idea,” I whisper, “None of you do.” Ginny, Malfoy, Emoz, the whole lot of them . . . . hang on, Emoz. Emoz! A flicker of a notion, and I know exactly how to start part two. What if I could convince Emoz that I was gay, and start flirting with him as well? That would be so annoying for Ginny, and I can only imagine what her reaction would be. Wouldn't it be great if somehow his feelings could seem real, too? Unfortunately there was only one potion in the closet but what if one night, I could go up to him, wallow him with drink, and . . . . the party is the best opportunity . . . . With a slight skip in my step, I race back to the Great Hall. Oh yes. Things are about to get just that little more interesting.

“Potter. Turn around. I need to speak to you.” Pansy Parkinson. What does she want? Regretfully, I face her. “What did you do?”

I frown. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Draco,” she explains, throwing a disgusted look as he skulks past us, “He's acting funny. Why? I saw you conversing with the Weasel girl. What's going on?”

“Oh that,” I pretend to understand, “ . . . . yeah, I don't know. He's been following me everywhere. Huh, weirdo.”

Pansy isn't going to give up without a fight. One second later, and I'm rammed up against the wall. What the? Ok. I hadn't been expecting that. She digs her nails into my hands, whispering meaningless threats into my ears. Something about if I don't find Malfoy, she'll skin me alive, and whatever I've done to him, he'll do to me a thousand times worse. Um, I seriously doubt that. Unless he's hiding a whole collection of frilly dresses, and designer handbags, (not to mention he's completely in love with me,) I really don't think he would ever want me gay. Pansy's nails are ridging deeper into my skin, and I cry out, unable to take the pain any longer.

“What I've said to you is a promise, Potter. You won't get away with this.” And, strange as it is, I watch her go and know she means it.

Back in the Common Room, I relay my success at an invisible piece of homework. Ron claps, and Hermione frowns. She knows I'm hiding something, but she's also aware I'm not going to say. Wow, that must be frustrating. I don't know why I can't tell them. They're my best friends. I'm supposed to be able to tell them everything. Oh well.

There are more pressing things to deal with at the minute. Like, how I'm going to make sure Emoz is attending Dumbledore's party. He probably won't come, because he doesn't know that I saw them cheat on me. Ginny will have to put on this angelic face, as she and I walk through the double oak doors. Eurgh, again, the thought causes me to nearly vomit. There's so much to do all of a sudden. But what first? Make Ginny 'accidentally' see me and Draco kissing? Get Emoz so drunk that he'll want to snog? Allow Draco to purposely see us locking lips? No. That wouldn't be right. It wouldn't work in the plan. There has to be another segment to my scheme, just what? Suddenly overcome by exhaustion, I put my glasses on the table.

Who would have ever thought this would take so much planning? A simple payback was turning out to be like constructing a battle with Voldemort. There were so many things that could go wrong. Effortlessly, I watch the orange gold flames spindle their silky fingers, and carry on thinking. When is the party? That's a point. There would be no point in getting all excited, if it's at least two weeks from now. I'm not going to stick this out for longer. I might want Ginny to suffer, but I won't be able to sustain my 'love' for Malfoy any more then seven days. It will drive me insane. I mean, all that kissing . . . . Hermione looks at me again, brows furrowed. Ron doesn't even notice, too fixated on his new toy Quidditch player figure.

“Ron, Harry and I are just going to step outside for a minute, ok?”

“Huh, yeah, whatever.”

I blink. What's she up to?, and decide to find out. Abandoning my time of staring in front of the fire, I depart the Common Room, feeling even more confused as Hermione slams the door. In a breath, she says, “Harry. I have had enough. You can't keep me and Ron in the dark. What's going on?”

Shrugging, I am determined not to reveal anything. “Nothing.”

“I mean it. We saw you yesterday. You could never be more misreable.” Then, she loses the curt abruptness, and sighs. “I want to help,” Hermione finishes on a weak note. “I just want to help.” But that's the thing. How can she? Nobody can. Not even my little stunt will work if I don't plan it properly. Maybe they could be of assistance, but in what sense? I can imagine her reaction. She'd be completely set against it, wouldn't she? 'No, Harry. You can't do this. It's not right. You'll get expelled.' I lean back against the wooden pillar, weighing out my options. “Look. It's entirely up to you if you don't want to say anything, but I worry, ok?”

I know now. She means well, and I've been an idiot. “Hermione, you're right. There is something that I've been keeping from you and Ron.” Thinking of what I saw again, my knees feel juddery. Instantly, I support myself by thinking of something else; treacle pudding. Yum. Seeing it in my mind's eye, I lick my lips. Hermione waves a hand in front of my face. Stopped by her action, I say, “The reason why I haven't told either of you is because I needed time.” Hermione's still staring, presumably wondering what could possibly have happened. “It's Ginny,” I attempt to unconceal, “There's someone else.”

“Oh, Harry! No, no, that's not, she . . . . . .”

“And that's not the worst of it . . . .” I gulp. “I saw it.”

“Who . . . . . .”

“Emoz,” I reply, “Emoz.”

Hermione falls silent. I don't blame her. It's a lot to take in. If she had had the same . . . . . . “So, what have you done?”

Fidgeting, I suddenly pretend to be interested in my shoes.


Still avoiding the question, I'm now gazing intently at the wall, almost as though there's now a gigantic hole in it that wasn't there before. Hermione doesn't seem at all angry though. Well, why should she be? I can't help if I've decided to get back at Gin? However, I think, I haven't told her that yet. Who knows what her reaction's going to be? “Ok, promise me you won't be cross.”

Hermione looks a little concerned. “It depends.”

“What would you be like if I told you I've slipped Malfoy a love potion, so that I can avenge myself against her cheating on me?”

She smiles. “I never thought I'd say this, but that is excellent.”

“Should I clean out my ears?” I answer. “Did you just say . . . . . .”

She nods with the purest enthusiasm. “I like Ginny, but she has always been, shall we say, the boy's dish?” Glancing at my expression, she says, “Honestly, Harry. Have you never noticed? Whenever you held her hand, the older students would shoot you a look of death. She was fancied by everyone.” This isn't helping. This really isn't . . . . . . “But I had always thought you had nothing to worry about. She loved you more then anyone on this planet . . . .” Trailing off, she chances a glance at my face. “Obviously, I was wrong. I am so sorry. I truly am.” She takes my arm in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

“So, how long should I keep this up?”

It's then that Hermione's worried. “Harry, how much did you give him again?”

“A whole bottle,” I shake out a reply, “I didn't mean to. I was stuck under the table, and . . . . .”

“Stuck under the table?” she repeats my sentence, staring at me as though I'm mad. “Oh, it doesn't matter about that. Harry, you've got to be careful. If that was Homeroxas potion (which I presume it was, on account of the fact he felt attracted to you) the effects last for two solid weeks. Half a dose would have only lasted one, but now . . . . . . .,” she sighs, looking down at her new book again, “You're going to have to maintain the pretence for another eight days.” Too disappointed and surly, I can't answer and return to my task of threatening to outstare the wall. “What's your first step?”

“I want to get Emoz drunk, and then go and snog him at the party.”

“Making sure that Ginny sees you do it?”

I grin. “How else?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Harry. I never knew you could be so . . . . . . . rebellious.”

“Me?” I exclaim, pointing to her. “What about you? What ever happened to moralities and justice being wrong?” I laugh, pounding the pillow by my side. “Anyway, what about Ron? Do you think we should let him know what I'm doing?” A playful smile tickles the edge of my lips, and I know what the answer's going to be even before she says it.

“What do you think?”

I pause. “Ron!”

A scuffle of feet, and a blur of ginger comes into view.

Looking to Hermione, I can't help smirking. “We have something to tell you.”

“What?” Ron exclaims a few minutes later. “What? WHAT?”

He can't stop, repeating everything I've said, over and over, eye balls nearly popping. He's never heard anything more cool before in his life. Fantastic. I'm pleased to have made someone this elated. I can almost see the minute creased lines of laughter, running across his freckled features. Where would I be without these two? Ron cracks me up with his opinions on life, and Hermione is just so intelligent I can't begin to say. Anyway, it feels better now that I've told them. No guilt weighs me down anymore, just a slight space of satisfaction.

They stare at me as though both can't believe their eyes. How long have I been keeping this secret? I shuffle uncomfortably. “Listen, guys. I wanted to let you in on it, but I was,” Scared? Unsure? Not ready? “Worried what you might think,” I decide to settle on. “Well, ok not you Ron, but . . . . . .”

“Well then, you misinterpreted me, didn't you?” smiled Hermione, leaning back into the sofa, and crossing her legs.

“Yeah,” I admit. “But how was I to know you were going to act like you did?”

“He's got a point, mione. Far as he knew, you woulda blown your lid!” Ron mumbles, through a mouthful of chocolate cake. He hands some to me, but I decline. “So, when you meeting lover boy again?” He quirks his eyebrows, and it takes all my determination not to hit him.

“Tommorrow,” I answer.

“He's not denying it! He's not denying it!” Ron hollers over the top of me.

Without answering, I pick up the pillow, and whack him across the head with it. Cake drops. Feathers fly. The moment's gone, and so is Hermione's smile. “Look, just look at what you've done. Oh, it took me two hours to clean up this room, and now look at it!” Me and Ron exchange a tentative grin, wondering what's going to happen next. As it is, she marches out of the room, without a backward glance at the both of us. We continue laughing, rolling about on the sofa in stitches.

“Mate,” chuckles Ron, “You are a legend!”

“I know,” I grin.

Heya everyone! Hope you liked that chapter. This is unlike anything I've ever done before. Forgive the weirdness of it. I just wanted a little breather from my usual dark stuff. But doubtless, I shall return in full flair. I don't understand. I've been writing fanfiction for five years, and I just can't stop! One time I got really upset because I didn't want to do any. That was horrible. I hated feeling like that. But now, phew, things are looking up. :) I think. Anyway, chapter three is where (hopefully) it gets a little exciting.

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