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Fireworks by Angelina Ze Insightful
Chapter 1 : Amid a Thousand Trophies
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 17

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A/N: I own nothing but the plot, blah, blah blah, you get the picture...
Ah-mazingly beautiful chapter image from Green @ tda! 'Aint it purty??


I usually hate having detention. Scratch that. I loathe having detention. I avoid them like Blast-Ended Shrewts, Slytherins, and Trolls on my potions papers (or in bathrooms...). Tonight’s detention however, is another matter. Because tonight’s detention I earned. Tonight’s detention is something I’m proud of.

“Why?” you may ask.

“Well it’s quite simple,” is my answer. Draco Malfoy. The Draco Malfoy. Oh the joy. Oh the pride. Oh the laughter. Again, why? Well, let’s just say it involves a bucket of water, contraband fireworks, some string, and Malfoy’s bum having severe third degree burns. All I can say is, it was so my idea.

So here I am, in the trophy room scrubbing one thousand trophies without magic, while whistling a joyful tune. I must say, this is definently going on the top of my list of being one my absolutely favorite moments of all time. Right behind getting my Hogwarts acceptance letter, punching Malfoy in third year, and psuedo-Mad-Eye turning Malfoy into a ferret. Now that I think about it, a lot of my favorite moments so happen to involve Malfoy getting incredibly embarrassed in public places of any kind. At least he’s consistent.

The other great thing about tonight’s detention? Not only am I scrubbing the trophies the normal way, but so is Scabbie a.k.a. the burn victim himself. Once again you ask “Why?” (which is getting on my nerves just so you know), again I answer snidely, “I was provoked.” Because I was. This time. No one calls me Mudblood and gets away with it without a burnt bum I tell you! No one. Not even your mum.

So there he is, as far away from me as he can possibly get without seeping into the walls, scrubbing the trophies with his bum placed so daintily in the air. My tune I’ve been whistling just got a tad more joyful.

“Do stop whistling that God awful tune will you?” GASP! Scabbie speaks!

“Do you even know the song I’m whistling, Malfoy?”


“Than how can you know that it’s awful?”

“Because it’s passing through your lips.”

“Oh! I would call that a burn, but I’m quite sure your bum takes the cake on that one.”

“Die Granger.”

“How could you say something so cruel?”

“Because I’m talking to you.”

“But you like my lips.”


“Well, you did talk about them.”

“I was only-”

“Which must mean-”

“saying that that God awful-”

“that you think about them to-”

“Muggle song that you were whistling-”

“talk about them-”

“was driving me up my broom-”

“So, if you were thinking about them-”

“I was not thinking about-”

“which you obviously were-”

“I was no-”

“that would mean that-”

“Would you stop-”

“you must have some sort of-”

“Your interrupting me is getting on my-”

“fascination with my mouth-”


“which is sort of creepy Malfoy-”

“How is that creepy-”

“Having unhealthy fascinations is never good-”

“It is not unhealthy!”

“So you admit to having a fascination with my lips Scabbie?”

“I do not have a - wait “Scabbie”? “Scabbie”?! Who are you calling “Scabbie” you little-”

“When did this fascination start-”

“I do not have a... Merlin Granger, how many times do I have to tell you-”

“because this is quite surprising-”


“considering our Houses-”


“and what everyone would think if they found out-”


“And since you’re not really my type-”

“What? I’m amazing Granger! I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m everyone’s ty-”

“I don’t think we’d work out. I’m quite sorry-”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“We aren’t even going out Malfoy-”

“I know, but-”

“Great, now your imagination is getting away with you-”

“Excuse me-”

“That’s the next phase for most stalkers-”

“I do not stalk you!”

“That’s what every stalker says-”

“Granger!” His hands come out of nowhere, and push me up against the wall as I realize for the first time since we started our playful bickering that he had moved himself incredibly close to my person. Uh-oh, this is never good. “Would you just shut it for a bit?” Yes sir, no problem sir. I’ll just stand here as you regain your composure. He rakes his hand through his messy blonde hair, and I examine my unnaturally short nails. I hear and feel him let out a sigh, his warm breath spreading across my face, signaling me once again to his incredible closeness. Looking up, my eyes lock with his. When did this detention get so cheesy? my mind asks. When his hands come up on either side of me I silently answer, I’m quite sure it started at “Scabbie”. His face looms closer, his breath becomes warmer; his lips becomes fuzzier as my eyes start to cross. And then, as my eyes flutter shut in the most cliché manner possible, that’s when it happens. When he says:

“You’ve got dirt on your nose. Did you know?”



A/N: So there it is! Whoooo! Part-ay! Not really. But yeah, I was in a really playful mood, and I'm suppppeerrrr sleep deprived and I have no inspiration for my other stories sooooo.... I decided to write my first ever Dramione! I hope you like it! "Ya" if you do, "Nay" if you think I'm a major weirdo!

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