A Harry Potter Fanfic

Chapter 4

---------- Chapter 4 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm easily a head taller than all the first years around me. Draco and Hermione are showing the first years around, and for some reason McGonagall decided I should follow the first years. So, whatever, I guess.

Hermione is a brilliant head girl; she's so into it and so kind to the little ones.

"This is the dungeon where potions will be taught," Hermione calls back to us, pointing down an ominous looking staircase.

Draco barely talks. He just follows the group from behind, making sure no one gets lost, I suppose. Hermione takes the head and I stay in the middle, sticking out like a sore thumb. I can't help but to keep casting backward glances at Draco. His platinum blond hair is so fair it's almost silver, glowing with its own light. But there's something in his eyes, a cold glint, something that shoots the warning alarms in my head.

"This is the Gryffindor tower," Hermione continues. The first years look enraptured, while I find myself wishing I could explore the castle on my own. It's so magical and beautiful, but being taken on a tour seems to make it lose a little of its charm, how sad.

"Deidre!" a familiar voice calls. I whip around to see Harry emerge from behind a large portrait. His face is strained, and irritation is clear on his face. I make my way through the little first years and walk over to him. Draco raises an eyebrow and gives Harry a cold glare.

"De, I need to talk to you," Harry whispers under his breath, his eyes fixed on the smirking Draco.

"Talk to her later, Potty," Draco drawls.

"Leave us, Malfoy!" Harry spits, his face taking on a vicious edge.

Malfoy shrugs and follows the procession of first years, but not without casting a long gaze at me. I find myself transfixed and I watch him until he turns out of sight. Harry sighs in frustration.

"De, what's going on between you and that weasel?!" Harry thunders, not making an effort to conceal his hate. If Draco is just around the corner, he'd definitely be able to hear Harry, but maybe that's Harry's intention.

"Nothing," I whisper.

"He's not a good guy!" Harry exclaims in frustration, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"Look, Harry, I get that you and Draco dislike each other, but he was being very nice to me," I clarify in a small voice.

"He's using you! Malfoy doesn't care for anyone! Anyone! He's trying to get close to you to get close to me!" He spits. The way Harry says Draco's name is as if it's an expletive.

"Umm, egocentric, much?" I murmur, my hands on my hips.

Harry sighs in frustration again, and pulls me into the common room, which is decorated in red and gold everything. Plush leather chairs, thick golden carpets on the floor, huge bookcases, chess tables, tables and pillows everywhere.

A handful of people are spilled all over the common room, laughing and enjoying themselves. Harry pulls me up a flight of stairs into a huge, circular room on the top of the tower. There's five identical beds spread out along the room. I see two guys fast asleep, and I realise I must be in the seventh years guys dorm.

Harry pulls me onto what must be his bed, Ron sits on the bed beside Harry's, watching Harry and I seriously.

"De, I'm going to tell you all about that scumbag before you make the biggest mistake of your life," Harry whispers, leaning in closer to me.