IWDTLY (A Draco Malfoy Love Story) ... 13 -Part 1-

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Say hi to Kitty in an Author’s Note!: Kitty is a friend of mine (that, however, is not her true name) Please say hi for me, readers? I’m sure she’d be all embarrassed and stuff. *evil laugh* I had final exams today! I did super bad on science (cuz the teacher’s a dick and doesn’t teach me squat.)(EDIT 10/20/13: Oh god. This was freshman year and that man is still a dick.)

I Was Dared to Love You (A Draco Malfoy Love Story)

Chapter 13: Neon Orange or Silky Silver? Which to Choose?

-Part 1-: I’m Looking Down on You

------| Violet’s POV |------

            He was late.

            That little bloody git stood me up. It wasn’t that he had so casually blown me off but the fact he hadn’t even owled me or told me in person that he couldn’t come or would be late. Ginny and Hermione had spent hours perfecting my make-up and clothes. Bloody hours that could have been spent eating breakfast like my tummy had wanted. It had been gnawing on the inside of my body since six thirty this morning.

            I stood outside of Gladrags Wizardwear for about an hour, waiting, while Hermione and Ginny had went to Honeydukes to treat themselves. The wind kept attempting to knock me over as I continued waiting. Shoving my hands in my parka pockets, I fingered the money that I had saved up for this. Some was borrowed (bribed) from Harry by Ginny, and Ron by Hermione. I had been expecting to show off dresses and spend a few.

            Guess not.

            In a way, I was disappointed that Malfoy hadn’t shown. Sighing, my breath puffed out in a white cloud and I huffed my way inside the shop. Even though it was famous for its variety of socks (which were bloody uncomfortable anyway) it seemed to have a nice selection of semi-formal and formal dresses. Walking over to the stock, I fingered the fabrics. Some were ancient, with frills and—was that what I think it was?! A petticoat? Really? Grinning, I grabbed it and folded it over my arm. So trying that on!

            A few more selections consisted of a deep blue cocktail dress that seemed slim fitting, an orange (neon, my friends) semi-formal that swayed precariously around my knees, a silver number with a pale white sash tied around the waist, and lastly a simple silk pink dress that landed near my ankles.

            The woman that worked there looked at me as if I’d grown a second butt but didn’t say anything. She'd probably seen weirder as was. She handed me the key to the changing room and I swiftly carried the dresses in.

            The ding of the bell overhead chimed just as I was shimmying into the silver one. It slid easily over my body and snugly covered my scar. The silk fabric felt like water and I had the immense urge to swim. The zipper snipped into place and I tied the sash loosely.

            Walking out to see myself in the full length mirror, I smashed my face into a very solid wall. Stumbling back a bit, I felt the wall’s arms wrap around my waist, holding me up. Wait, walls don’t have arms, silly goose! So, who the hell—?

            Looking up through my bangs, I stare at Malfoy … as he stares down the front of my dress!

--------| Draco’s POV |---------

            Goyle and Zabini seriously need to A: learn to leave me the hell alone or B: go die in a hole. Either will work. I had been nervously waiting for the Gryffindors to arrive as I drank the last drops of my butter-beer when they came up and started talking up a storm.

            “She wants to have three—” Blaise commented on how many children Granger wanted to have.

            “Oh yeah, my mudblood wants to have four!” Goyle sassed back.

            “That’s nothing! My mudblood started growing boobs when she was twelve!” Zabini competed back, crossing his arms over his chest.

            “Really?” I inquired. “Jesperson masturbates two-to-three times a week.” I hadn’t meant to get involved. Seriously, I just wanted them to shut the bloody hell up. Who cares how large their breasts were when they were twelve? And kids really? You can’t plan kids. So why even try? Sighing, I order another butter-beer as I was bombarded with questions about Jesperson.

            Did she have a—

            How did she—

            Would she—

            Was it weird that I felt like I was guilty?

            I knew all these things about Jesperson—

            Standing up abruptly, I remembered. “Oh shit! I gotta go guys; see ya back at Hogwarts!” Rushing off to the dress store, I burst through the front door, the bell chiming above. The woman behind the counter gave me that don’t-molest-my-customers-young-man look and I gave her a sly no-promises look back. Her thumb hooked backwards, and I looked where she pointed. How did she know—? Never mind that, I walked over to the dressing rooms, seeing that only one door was locked. I sauntered over and went to knock politely like the gentleman I was.

            Just as I was about to, the door flung open and Jesperson stood there in a silver waterfall of silk. Damn. Looking down, I note that the front of her dress is a bit, shall we say, loose? It opened just enough to see that pink striped bra she was wearing.

            The whole gentleman idea just got crushed by teenage hormones.

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Love and fireworks,

unique-goddess

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