Rarely Pure and Never Simple

Chapter 11

A/N: Hey guys! So I just wanted to randomly check this story and then I saw that it already got over 200 reads! Thank you so much! As a little thank you I uploaded this 11th chapter, so I hope you enjoy reading it :)
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Summary of this chapter:
In which Draco is annoyed, Weasley is a prude, Harry is embarrassed, and penises are once again mentioned.
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Whispers.

Whispers.

More fucking whispers.

Everywhere Draco went, whispers seemed to follow like drizzling rain, a constant orchestral background of murmurs and hushed speculations. Everybody seemed to always be staring at him, always talking about him, always noticing him, and all the attention was making Draco want to crawl out of his skin.

"Make them fucking stop already!" he hissed, almost slamming his textbook down on the library table in frustration. Until he remembered that Madam Pince had the hearing of a bat and the patience of a...he scrunched his nose. Did bats have low patience? The patience of a housecat? Were those particularly impatient creatures? Draco had never owned a cat and had no idea, but they certainly seemed like creatures that would not hesitate to disembowel anyone if any of their beloved books were violated or their beloved silence disrupted. Or any of their beloved...what did cats love? Small animals to toss about and frighten to death? Yes, Draco mused, he supposed that would make the analogy an accurate one.

"Make who stop what?" Pansy asked in a bored voice, flipping through a magazine and ignoring the half-written essay before her.

"Make them all stop staring!" Draco ground out. "All of—" he flapped his hand around the large room, "them!"

"All of who?" she continued in the same apathetic tone.

"All of everyone!" he snapped. "Every single person in this castle! Just constantly staring and whispering and being bloody annoying prats!"

Pansy raised one eyebrow. "You want me to order hundreds of teenagers to stop being annoying?" Draco ground his teeth. "And to stop gossiping?" Draco ground his teeth even harder. "And to stop using their eyes?" Draco's jaw hurt from how hard he was grinding his teeth. "You may as well ask me to order the rain to not be so wet, darling."

"Pansy—"

"You may as well ask me to order the snow to not be so cold."

"Pans—"

"You may as well ask me to order dragons to be vegetarians."

"P—"

"You may as well—"

"Pansy!" he finally snapped, immediately glancing around himself to make sure there was no danger of any batlike (housecat-like?) librarians swooping down on him and tearing his precious innards straight from his precious body.

"Honestly, Draco," Pansy huffed, closing the magazine to frown at him. "So they're talking about you, so what? That's a good thing, you realize. Most of what they're saying is good. People are finally looking at you without glaring. People are finally talking about you without it being to wish you death. I overheard a group of Hufflepuff fourth-years the other day talking about how cute you and Potter look together in that latest article picture."

Draco's mouth dropped open in shock. "Cute?" he demanded. "What the hell do they mean by cute? I have never been so insulted in my life! We're striking, is what we are! We're bloody devastating! We're fucking gorgeous and eye-catching and enviable and sexy as all hell! But fucking cute we are not!"

Pansy looked at him, lips twitching. "Right. Next time I'll be sure to tell them that you are not now, and have never been, cute."

"Thank you," he sniffed. "That's exactly the sort of consideration I expect from my best friends."