It's Not A Love Potion (Drarry)

Chapter 6

Note: There will be (as a lot of you have guessed) sexytimes happening in this chapter. So, you know, if you're not a fan of the boyxboy love, you might want to skim certain parts.

"Draco, I don't get this. It just doesn't add up!" Pansy whined petulantly.

Draco lifted his head from his hands and glanced at her. "You don't get what, Pansy dearest?"

"These fucking equations. I must've gone wrong somewhere, but I can't see where! Fuck!" She kicked the leg of the table, making her ink bottle wobble precariously, and Draco watched her in amusement.

"Pansy, you shock me," he said solemnly. "Language like that is unbefitting of a proper lady such as yourself." Their eyes met across the dark oak desk and Pansy snorted. Draco grinned at her, and held out a hand for her scribbled notes from their last Arithmancy lesson. They were handed over with a thankful smile.

"I only took Arithmancy because of you, Draco," Pansy said matter-of-factly, brushing her hair back with a careless hand and adjusting her robe. "You should have warned me it involved numbers."

Draco looked up from the parchment and flashed her a smirk. "I think, if I remember correctly, Pansy darling, I warned you most explicitly that Arithmancy involved numbers. If my memory is to be believed, you said that – what was it again? – you wanted to take the same subjects as me because every hour spent away from me was an hour of darkness, and you would brave several chimeras and a Quintaped if it meant that you could be close to me. I think that was what you said, wasn't it, dearest?"

Pansy glared at him. "Shut it. I was going through a phase."

"Hmm," Draco agreed, absently scribbling over a hugely incorrect calculation. "A phase that entailed stalking me every hour of every day and blackmailing Goyle with fudge cake to try and get into my bed. Wasn't the most respectable stage of your life, was it, Panse?" He ducked her moose-antler hex without even looking up.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said airily, tucking her wand back up her shirt.

Draco shot her a look.

"All right, yes I do," she conceded. "It nearly worked, too. If only I hadn't gone to the wrong bed and nearly jumped on Zabini discovering how to wank. You would have been unable to resist my charms."

Draco bit back a grin. "You were twelve, Panse," he said. "At that point, Crabbe had bigger tits than you."

Pansy pouted and pushed her chest forward. "What about now?" she simpered, wiggling invitingly.

Draco had never been attracted to Pansy. Perhaps it was the fact that he had known her when she had the face of an unattractive dog and the personality of a flobberworm, but, despite their casual flirting, he had not once thought of her as anything other than a friend.

"By this point, I've had to repress my sexual urges for you for far too long," he answered, letting his eyes linger appreciatively lest she get offended (and she probably would) before looking back at her face. "I'm sworn to a life of celibacy now, I'm afraid."

Pansy snickered but at least stopped wiggling. "That's a load of bollocks if ever I heard it. I heard from Queenie that some Ravenclaw sixth-year caught you doing the nasty with Terry Boot last week."

Terry Boot? Well, he had the right hair colour, Draco supposed. He raised an eyebrow disdainfully and looked back down at Pansy's notes. "As if I'd let that filthy mudblood come within a ten-foot radius of me," he sneered. Pansy seemed satisfied by that answer and absently began practicing her signature on a scrap of parchment.