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Chapter 1 : Strike
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He wore an unreadable mask of disdain and aside from the slight quirk of his lips indicating his signature smirk, there was nothing.
His reaction (or lack of it) seemed to goad her even more. "You smirk, and it just makes your face uglier. You resemble a toad. Not unlike Umbridge, might I add. You only get by in school because of your grades, and family ties. If it were up to any of the teachers, I'd bet you'd be kicked out on your face," she said, her voice rising with every passing word.
‘Strike one,’ he thought.
He remained haughtily silent. His eyes bore into hers. The smirk widened an inch, and he could almost see the smoke seeping out of her ears, extremely frustrated that she was.
"Which might just improve it." She was shouting openly now, attracting more attention than was necessary. After all, this was a private battle. She'll have to be taught a lesson for sure. Of controlling her anger, her tongue.
"Yes, you're popular. But who wouldn’t be, with that face of yours? Yes, people smile at you 'sincerely'. But what else would you expect, if not a sincere smile, from the servants of your father?" she hissed ferociously, her eyes taking on a sort of maniacal quality. It appealed to him. Onlookers exchanged waggle of eyebrows and toothy grins, not seeing this kind of entertainment everyday.
‘Strike two,’ he thought.
He took a small step forward. She, startled, started taking one back, but stopped herself in time and managed to steady her rocking heels. Then she quirked an eyebrow and pouted her lips in a very un-pansy-like way.
It was more of a 'come any closer and I’ll give you all that I’ve got - through my fist' type of pout. She had perfected it recently. Having crazy brothers made you realize some form of physical threat was necessary if you wanted respect and a painless life.
She glared at him challengingly. Another thing needed to survive - a threat only worked when you said it like you meant it, and that meant eye contact. Brutal eye contact that made the other think you were mad enough to actually carry it out.
It obviously didn’t work. He full on smirked now, and her eyes flared up. He disregarded the threat, accepted the challenge, and took a big step forward, closing the distance between them.
She paled considerably and looked shocked for a moment before regaining her composure, but the smile was long gone.
But that moment was all he needed to understand what exactly was going on in that red little head of hers.
She looked in between them and the virtually non-existent space left and tilted her body backwards. No way was she making contact with that dirty scum Slytherin, threat or no threat.
"You were saying?" he drawled, his first words all night.
"I was saying", she hissed softly "that if you do not distance yourself from me IMMEDIATELY, I might just introduce you to a very lethal part of my anatomy. And let me assure you - it will hurt." The last three words were said with pauses in between. She sounded menacing, very menacing indeed.
But then, he liked feisty and menacing and red.
And she was all those things and more. He expected her to start growling at any given moment now.
"You spoke very highly of my father a little while back." he drawled, conscious of the fact that she was grounding her teeth at his superficial lofty tone. "Well, he taught me a little Death Eater trick. He told me to raise both my hands like the statue of that muggle Jesus Christ." He positioned his arms horizontally and gazed at her with a poker face so as not to alert her of her fast approaching doom, but she tensed automatically, warily eyeing his outstretched arms.
He smiled. It was full of victory. His eyes, too, were dancing merrily – yet lethally. "And then strike."
Strike three – couldn’t have been any sweeter.
His arms came around her waist, holding her firmly in place, with her arms tucked in, and supple body leaning back and leaned in on her and kissed her firmly at first, but as the sudden deafening roar of the Great Hall overwhelmed him and numbed his sense of sound, he became more passionate. He flicked his tongue across her lips and when she willingly opened her mouth for him, he couldn’t help but full-on smirk. That got him a punishing bite on his lips. He bit back and continued on his determined way to make this stubborn little hothead gasp and moan with pleasure. Just as he felt her about to reach boiling point, it ended.
They were torn apart by a teacher with pincer-like grip. McGonagall, Draco recognized as his dizzying sight rebalanced itself.
She glared at Draco for a full minute before rounding on Ginny. “Miss Weasley! Of all the people, I did not expect you to partake in such ill-mannered behavior! What do you have to say for yourself?”
Still shocked and slightly lightheaded, Ginny answered with the first thing that came to her befuddled mind, “Professor – I – I – Malfoy is one good kisser.”
And you’re out.
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