IWDTLY (A Draco Malfoy Love Story) ... 19

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Who do you think I am? Psssh an Author’s Note: Some of you guys. *shakes head* Of course they are going to end up together! It’s a love story, ain’t it? (I’m quite aware that some love stories end up terrible) I’m not really the type to say, “God, I feel crappy today I should make this couple break up and have the chick get murdered because I feel so shitty.” Nope.

PS: my votes got into the red …. *squeal*

PPS: almost 8,000 reads! What is this?

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

Chapter 19: Awkwardness in Anatomy

--------| Violet’s POV |----------

            Stupid git. I don’t need him. No way, José! Don’t need him at all! Men are just stupid little sex demons that try to seduce girls into their bedrooms. That’s not going to happen. Not to me. Stupid Draco, stupid dare, stupid Anatomy class. Everything was stupid!

            “You’re muttering, Vi,” Hermione piped up beside me. We were on our way to Anatomy Class and I was dragging my feet in an attempt to persuade her to skip. But by Hermione Rule #2: Never Skip Class, she wouldn't budge. #1 was Always Follow Directions. What a load. Following directions doesn’t do squat.

            I gave a low growl in my throat, telling her to leave me the bloody hell alone and all she did was grin. Rolling my eyes at her, I feel a sense of dread coat over me. What if he saw the tear stains? What if he noticed that my eyes were red? What if he saw that I hadn’t slept all night? Oh Merlin, what if he ignored me?

            “Calm down! You look like you’re about to puke or something, jeez,” Hermione muttered as we neared the classroom. Just as I was about to turn around and bolt to safety, Hermione grabbed my wrist and began dragging me. I ground my heels into the floor and leaned back, causing her to pull even harder. “C’mon, Vi! It’s just one class; it won’t be that bad at all!”

            “P-p-please, ‘Mi. Don’t make me …” I whispered, a few regrettable tears formed and traveled in the already familiar paths. “I don’t want to see him … for him to see me.” The last part was spoken in my head. She didn’t have to know that I felt like he had rejected me. That I thought that if he saw me, he would scoff and yell “mudblood” in my face. And if he did that, I might just break. I might just lose it and stop trying any more.

            She turned around suddenly and placed her hands on my shoulders. “Trust me.”

            That—that I could do. So, I nodded, thinking she would let me leave. Boy was I wrong.

--------| Hermione’s POV |--------

            Stubborn little bugger wouldn’t get her butt in the classroom! I sympathized with her, really I did! But since I knew one small little detail about what happened after she bawled her eyes out … well you could say I was a little eager to get it over with. To just get them the bloody heck together already! Seven years of “Malfoy’s such a prick!” and “Such a ferret!” could really get to a girl. Sighing, I finally pull her over the threshold of the class doorway.

            “Calm the heck down! It’s not going to be that bad, really, promise!” I whispered in her ear so that all the Slytherin boys (who stared directly at her as if she had a second butt) and Gryffindor girls (who were staring at their worksheets) wouldn’t hear. “All you have to do is answer the Girl’s Question that Malfoy asks and then we can leave, m’kay?”

            Violet gave me one more puppy dog look and when she found it failed, stuck her tongue at me. Shoving her book and supplies into her gut with a grin, I skip off to work with Zabini.

            He greeted me with an eyebrow lift. I easily returned the gesture.

            “Ever find that date of yours, Granger?”

            I frowned at him, “No, actually; didn't even so much as talk with him. I think the only normal conversation I had last night was unfortunately with you, Zabini.” The shocked look that passed over his face made me smile lightly at him. “Crazy, huh?”

            “Yeah,” he responded while taking out our worksheet. When his face went bright red, I knew an embarrassing question was about to arise.

            “Hey, Granger, when did you start to grow … er … pubic hair?” Sighing and rolling my eyes at the same time, I settle into my seat, setting my things to the corner of the desk. When I was finally situated, I look back at Zabini. His eyes were glued to the sheet and looked to be super interested in the ink used to write the questions.

            Grinning evilly at him, I get close him and said a bit too loudly, “Oh, I don’t know! When did you start to grow pubic hair, Blaise?” I swear I heard his neck crack as he looked up in surprise. Giving him an innocent look, I point to question thirty-seven.

            Clearing his throat he mutters something unintelligible. I able to make out, “Around … age … think …”

            Giggling a bit, I glance back at Vi.

-------| Draco’s POV |--------

            Follow the plan, follow the plan, follow the plan, dammit! As terrible as it is, Violet’s friends and I formulated the perfect fool-proof plan to getting Violet to understand … or rather take me back. Willingly, I helped them and even contributed a bit. It was no wonder they were able to follow up on this dare of theirs.

            A squeak from the stool next to me caused me to snap out of my inner dialogue.

            “Hey,” I say in the most normal voice possible. “How’s it going?” Flinching a bit, I realize just how rehearsed that sounded.

            “Perfectly peachy, why wouldn’t it be?” There was a coldness to her voice but at closer inspection I could feel the sadness and betrayal radiating from her words. Why she would be the one feeling betrayed is beyond me! I was the one who had a girl dared to like him! Shouldn’t I be the one that was mad, sad, and felt betrayed? Nope, I was the poor fool that had to convince this pig-headed, ignorant, annoying, adorable girl that he liked her.

            Hermione had formulated the perfect plan. All I had to say was, “Question fifty-five: What do you think of your partner?” in the loudest voice possible.

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