Serpent's Veil || Draco Malfoy.

Gryffindor Gossip

Emily's POV

I'm in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. 

Yes, you heard me right—the portrait that serves as the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

Yesterday, while I was trying to sleep, I realized I couldn't let Potter go around knowing that I had kissed Malfoy. 

You might think it's stupid that I care so much, but I just can't allow it. 

Theo can't know, and neither can my friends. 

Pansy would murder me. 

Don't get me wrong, I would murder the bitch back in an instant, but Daphne wouldn't understand either. She is always complaining about how wrong it is for Malfoy to have his way with every girl he wants. 

And now she would say I'm just one of them too.

I know I haven't actually done anything with him, but for a moment I got carried away, listening to his words and feeling like maybe I was special—different from the rest of them. 

But that can't be. 

I know I'm me, yes, but I can't trust Malfoy. 

And that's exactly why that was the last time I'm going to be that close to him. 

If I can't behave around him, then I'm just going to have to avoid him. 

It's as easy as that. 

I'm not going to turn into another prize for him to have in his little collection. 

Plus, I promised Theo I was going to be there for him, and if I went around screwing Malfoy, well, then I wouldn't exactly be keeping my promise, would I?

So I woke up extra early today. 

I couldn't get much sleep, so it wasn't difficult, and I even did my makeup more elaborately, in case I had to resort to my charms to get Potter to keep quiet. 

I know he is into me too. 

Please, who isn't? 

No, seriously, he can barely talk to me, which is weird since we're seventeen—we're not kids anymore. 

But who can blame him? 

Every year I end up hearing, 

"Oh, Potter has saved the school, oh, Potter has defeated Rat Man, oh, Potter has defended his honour and his father." 

All this fame he has for doing nothing might have gotten to his head so much it's messed him up.

 Wow, speaking of his father, James was hot. 

He was a Quidditch player too, which adds a lot. 

I know it's wrong to talk like that about the dead, but it's fucking true. 

Harry is not horrible either, but he's just not it. 

As I told you, if he cannot utter two proper words when I'm around, then he is not my type.

You might be wondering what my type is since I didn't open up about it at the party. 

My type is someone who bickers with me, who isn't afraid to get on my nerves, who is sarcastic and arrogant, who goes around thinking he is the best, and of course, that can get my blood going. 

Someone who really knows what to say and do to get me where he wants. 

No, I'm not describing anyone; I'm just making a point.