Aine could feel Malfoy’s eyes from across the Great Hall, but she didn’t glance up to meet them. She talked animatedly to her housemates, who had never seen her so cheerful or so sociable before. As their housemate they accepted her and defended her despite her strange appearance, but now they were starting to genuinely like her, surprised at the change she had undergone in the short time since she’d blossomed from the quiet, weird-looking Ravenclaw girl to Draco Malfoy’s arch enemy. She smiled widely, sincerely and not without a hint of mischief when before she had rebuffed attempts to talk to her, to get to know the girl with whom they had been rooming for five years.
Malfoy was scowling blackly. How dare this arrogant Ravenclaw ignore him? How dare she be so carefree and flippant when he was trying his damnedest to make her life a living hell? Every attempt to torment her had been shrugged off as a careless mistake. Every spilled potion or errant charm and every harsh word had been ignored or laughed off. He had enchanted her chair to slide out from under her in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but she had merely giggled from the floor at how clumsy she had been. He was unable to elicit a rise of any kind out of the girl nor any kind of anger or accusation. She would meet his flashing, angry eyes and smile. Smile! Her eyes danced merrily at every insult. Not to mention the rest of her house seemed to be following suit. They refused to acknowledge his mischief making, laughing with their housemate as if they believed she had caused her own mishaps. He couldn’t get a single reaction from anyone, and his anger was white hot.
“I am going to get that girl,” Draco muttered irritably. “I will find a way. She can’t ignore everything.”
“Want us to rough her up a bit, Draco?” Pansy asked, her blue eyes glinting. “Maybe she has a run-in in a dark corridor one night?”
“No,” Draco snarled. “Stay away from her. She’s mine. I will deal with her. No one touches her but me.”
The look in his eyes must have been murderous, for Pansy shrunk back, holding up her hands. “Ok, Draco. We’ll leave her alone.”
His lips tightened, and he glanced over at the Ravenclaw table again. Jason Samuels was grinning at Aine, sneaking bites of chocolate cake off her plate. She laughed at something he said, and Draco felt a sharp tinge of dislike. Acting like nothing is going on, as if Draco Malfoy didn’t exist, as if she couldn’t feel his eyes on her, boring holes into her, flirting with Quidditch players and making friends. No one ignored Draco Malfoy! No one suddenly benefited from his ire by becoming the most popular girl in her house. He had to find something else”something that would really get to her. He would find it if it was the last thing he did.
***
“Oh, Aine, if looks could kill you would be splattered across the wall,” Cho Chang said nervously, though she smiled. “Malfoy has been staring over here for ten minutes, and he looks about ready to explode.”
Aine met Terry’s eyes, and they grinned. “Fighting with the mind,” Terry said.
“What?” Cho asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Malfoy has done everything he can to make Aine’s life miserable, and she is ignoring him. I think it’s making him madder than any prank she could possibly pull,” Terry explained.
“I don’t know that I would want Draco Malfoy that angry with me,” Cho murmured, considering. “His father’s a Death Eater”what if he tries something dreadful?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. He isn’t going to use dark magic on me just because of a little school feud,” Aine said, chuckling. “It’ll all blow over soon enough. He’ll get tired of picking on me after a while.”
“I don’t know, Aine,” Luna said, staring dreamily toward the Slytherins. “Slytherins are very tenacious.”
Aine waved her hand dismissively. “He hasn’t done anything to hurt me. It’s just a silly game. Besides, it’s fun.”
Cho frowned. “Still”don’t go down any dark corridors alone; you never know who might be waiting for you.”
Aine winked. “I am not afraid of Draco Malfoy and his pack of Slytherins. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, as well.”
Terry grinned. “Come on, then. You’ll have plenty of time to use them”time for Transfiguration with our favourite house.”
***
It was easier to ignore Malfoy’s furious stare from across the Great Hall while surrounded by her housemates. In class, however, he sat only two rows behind her, and she could feel his eyes like tiny pinpricks on her skin. The class was practicing non-verbal Switching spells, as they had every day since the beginning of term, and there was the usual shameless cheating, particularly from the Slytherins, and deep sighs of frustration, particularly from the Ravenclaws. Aine was finding it very difficult to concentrate on the daisy she was meant to transfigure into a butterfly with his eyes on her like that, and it needled her pride. Yes, he was, in fact, getting to her whether she let him see it or not.
She flicked her wand moodily, refusing to allow him to see her faltering focus. He scowled, his lips forming a tight line. Her long, red hair rippled as she pointed her wand at the daisy, and he was most gratified to see the flower flip over ineffectually. Having trouble concentrating, are you, half-breed? he thought maliciously. Feel me, do you?
As if in response, she flicked her wand again, and this time the daisy rose into the air, fluttering around her head. The flower had morphed into a large butterfly, and the girls cooed, impressed by the stark, elegant beauty of the white wings. Malfoy’s eyes narrowed in irritation, and he glanced down at the lifeless rose before him. She laughed delightedly as her creation danced merrily around the room, and Professor McGonagall smiled. “Well done, Miss Armstrong,” she remarked. “Ten points to Ravenclaw for being the first to effectively complete the task today.”
Malfoy sneered. The girl was intolerable. He flicked his own wand toward the butterfly, hardly thinking about what he was doing. It burst into flames. The class cried out in surprise, and it dropped into front of Aine, who shot a jet of water from her wand to extinguish the smoking ball. He smirked when he saw her lips turn down in a pout, but she didn’t turn to him to retaliate.
“Mr. Malfoy!” Prof. McGonagall snarled. “What is the meaning of this?”
Even her stern, rigid gaze didn’t daunt him such was his satisfaction over the white demon’s dismay. Her brow was furrowed, and she was looking down at the ash on her workstation. The Ravenclaws around her were muttering in a crescendo of outrage at the destruction of their housemate’s lovely creation. She looked up, into McGonagall’s eyes. “Oh, I must have made a mistake, Professor,” Aine said lamely. “I must have been thinking about fire when I transfigured it.”
Beside her, Su Li nudged her, angry that she would let Malfoy get away, yet again, with such a nasty trick. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Prof. McGonagall scoffed, her brow furrowed dangerously. “I saw Mr. Malfoy do it. I don’t know what your little game is, Miss Armstrong, but I have had quite enough of this feud. Detention, Mr. Malfoy. And detention for you, Miss Armstrong, for trying to cover for him.”
The Ravenclaws groaned with indignation, but Malfoy smirked. For once, the old hag had done something useful.
***
White hot rage seethed just under the surface of Aine’s pleasant, smiling exterior. Detention. With Malfoy, of all people. The plan had gone completely wrong. It was much easier to ignore the beastly wanker when he wasn’t looking so smug and so dangerous at his table, clearly relishing the anticipation of their hours together tonight. She suspected he was also enjoying her apprehension, imagined or otherwise, as she pondered what exactly he might have planned.
“I can’t believe he killed your butterfly,” Su muttered, glaring across the Hall at Malfoy and his smirking Slytherins. The admiration with which they regarded him had fallen off a bit in the wake of the feud with the Ravenclaw, perhaps due to his ineffectual attempts to torment her and her fellow Ravenclaws. Tonight, however, he seemed to be the centre of attention, his silver eyes glittering mischievously as he muttered quietly to his housemates. They were eyeing him in appreciation, fawning over his every word.
Aine scoffed. “It wasn’t even alive. If he thought that would frighten me he’s got a lot to learn,” she growled, glaring across the table at him, glancing quickly away before he caught her.
“What will you do in detention?” Michael Corner asked, raising his eyebrows at her.
“Avoid him, hopefully.”
“Good luck with that,” Terry told her grimly. “Malfoy looks like he was just handed the House Cup, not detention. He’s planning something. Be careful.”
A cold frisson of apprehension trickled down her back, but she stamped it out pointedly. “It’s Malfoy who should be careful if he tries anything,” she said coldly.
***
Aine sighed inwardly as she approached the door to McGonagall’s office. Malfoy already stood outside, lounging casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He gave her a wolfish grin, and her body went cold. “Hello, Armstrong,” he greeted, his silvery eyes glinting dangerously.
“Malfoy,” she replied with a Slytherin worthy sneer. He was staring at her with cold intensity, but she refused to quail under his gaze. She drew herself up to her full height, meeting his eyes defiantly. I’m not afraid of you, Malfoy, no matter how dangerous you look.
Professor McGonagall swept out of her office, looking almost startled to see them standing there, their gazes locked. “Oh. Yes. Mr. Malfoy, Miss Armstrong. I am afraid I have an important matter to attend to. You will report to Mr. Filch’s office to complete your detention, if you please.”
“But”“ Aine started, her pulse leaping nervously. If she was to spend the next couple hours with the scheming Draco Malfoy, especially when he was looking at her like a wolf stalking his prey, she would prefer McGonagall to be there, not the Squib groundskeeper who would be utterly ineffectual against his tricks.
McGonagall ignored her, bustling past them. “Mr. Filch’s office,” she repeated over her shoulder, her heels clicking on the stone floors as she strode away, leaving Aine alone with the smirking, blonde Slytherin.
Malfoy looked at her. “So, Miss Armstrong, shall I escort you to Mr. Filch’s office? We wouldn’t want anything to…happen to you along the way, would we, half-breed?”
His grey eyes were steely, glinting in amusement and what could have been anticipation. The cold snake of fear slithered along her spine again, and she spun away from his eyes, hurrying away from him.
Malfoy chuckled, cocking his head to watch her retreating figure for a moment before hurrying to catch up with her. “What’s the matter, Armstrong?” he drawled in a voice as smooth as silk. “You aren’t afraid of me, are you?”
Anger coursed through her veins, but she didn’t pause and didn’t turn to look at him. “You don’t frighten me, Malfoy,” she spat.
“No?” He grinned, falling into step beside her.
They strode in silence for several moments, and she could feel her nerves singing, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. He brushed against her every few steps, heightening the tension between them, and he chuckled at her discomfort. Her lips pursed, but she didn’t deign to speak to him.
Malfoy chuckled again, his arm sliding casually along hers. “Wondering whether to keep playing your game or run the other way?” he asked smoothly, and she narrowed her eyes, annoyed. He was easy to handle when students and teachers surrounded them, watching their every move. Alone, however, his presence was frank and aggressive and utterly daunting. She wondered for a moment if he could read her mind, or if she was merely allowing her emotions to play across her face.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy,” she said coldly.
“Ah, so you find my company pleasant, then,” he suggested.
“Hardly,” she muttered, but he was ignoring her.
“Can’t say the same for me, though. I prefer not to associate with filthy half-breeds.” He sped up to pass her, hurrying ahead of her toward Filch’s office.
She blinked at his back, thinking Draco Malfoy had a special ability to cut straight to the bone, but she’d be damned if she’d let him see it. “What’s that, Malfoy? I must have missed it,” she said pleasantly. “Oh, well.” She turned as he spun on his heel, ducking into a corridor away from him.
Malfoy followed her, but she had disappeared around a corner. “Bollocks,” he muttered.
***
She was standing in Filch’s office, scowling blackly when he finally caught up to her. “What’s this,” Filch growled, annoyed, “Minerva’s delinquent drop off? What does she think”I have nothing better to do than baby-sit her misbehavers?” He gave them a horrible scowl. “Off with you, then. You can help the firsties polish the trophy room.” He motioned them with a jerk of his head, and they followed him. “By hands. No wands.”
Malfoy smirked at Aine, but addressed Filch. “Sir,” he began in his velvety drawl, and she rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t you much rather be off catching students out of bounds?”
Filch scowled. “Of course; anything is better playing nursemaid to you runts.”
“Well, sir, perhaps you can. Miss Armstrong and I can supervise the firsties for you,” he continued.
Filch touched his chin, raising an eyebrow in consideration. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Yeah, better you than me; I’m not even being punished.” He raised a suspicious finger to Malfoy’s face. “No funny business, boy.”
Malfoy held up his hands, a smile spreading across his narrow, sculpted features. “Of course not, sir.”
Filch nodded, looking pleased with himself. “Come on, Mrs. Norris,” he ordered his ever present feline companion as he swept down the hall.
Malfoy turned his smirk on Aine. “Smug Slytherin,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes to hide that he’d impressed her.
“Jealous Ravenclaw,” he said, raising a pale eyebrow.
She turned away, scowling, watching him slink over to the four first years who were already inside the trophy room polishing feverishly. They looked up at him with wide eyes, and she suspected his infamous reputation had preceded him. They grumbled as he issued orders but didn’t talk back. Aine paced behind them, scowling. She glanced at the door, weighing the benefits of bolting for Ravenclaw Tower, but she refused to allow him to win this battle of wits.
“What’s the matter, Armstrong?” Malfoy asked, sidling up to her. “Hoping Filch would stay to protect you from me?”
“Is that conceit or delusion, Malfoy?” Aine said mildly. “I know I have my suspicions”
There was a cackling from above, and they looked up to see Peeves, the little black poltergeist float into the room. “Oh, the Slytherin and Ravenclaws is having a little love spat? I been hearing all about you two.”
“Get out of here, Peeves,” Aine growled, her teeth clenched.
Peeves cackled, and Malfoy sneered at him. “You is a white demon, you is.”
“Shut your face, Peeves,” Aine replied.
Malfoy chuckled, amused that the poltergeist could get to her even if he couldn’t. Peeves cackled and swooped down over his head. He cursed, ducking. “The Malfoy boy likes his white demon, don’t he?”
Malfoy’s eyes ignited, and his lip curled in fury. “Get out of here, Peeves!” he shouted, flicking his wand to curse the cackling poltergeist, but he evaded the jet of red sparks. He spun in the air, diving toward the first years, and knocked a small trophy onto a Gryffindor’s head. The dark-haired girl squeaked in pain, covering her head, and the first years ran for cover, afraid the poltergeist would continue the assault.
Aine glared at him, throwing her hands out in front of her. Peeves shrieked angrily, compelled out of the trophy room by the power of her spell. “I is telling the Headmaster on you, I is!” he screeched. “You is using white demon magic!”
She threw her arm out, slamming the door on his retreating figure and turned a glare on Malfoy. “You could have helped,” she growled, hurrying over to examine the Gryffindor first year.
Malfoy lounged against the wall, smirking. “And why would I do that? It’s just a Gryffindor with a bit of a bump.”
Aine rolled her eyes, sneering, and spun away from him, ordering the first years to continue their polishing. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, watching her move around the room supervising the younger students. She felt his eyes following her, but she ignored him, resuming her pacing and trying to calm the nervousness his scrutiny was causing.
He advanced upon her, and she felt him beside her before she glanced up at him. “What’s the matter, Armstrong? Angry the poltergeist called you a white demon? You don’t seem to mind when I do it”does that mean you’re starting to like me?” When she tilted her chin, turning away without responding, he reached out, catching her shoulder to spin her to face him.
She shrugged off his hand as if it had burned her, glaring at it in distaste. “Even with Peeves in the room, Malfoy, I still like you least.”
He chuckled, following her when she moved away. “Come on, Armstrong. You don’t like our game anymore?”
“We don’t have a game, Malfoy,” she said with complete indifference.
He narrowed his eyes. Not this time. She is not going to evade me this time. If she wouldn’t rise to his taunts and jinxes, he would find another way to get under her skin. If I can’t beat you at your game, let’s see if you can beat me at mine. He moved closer to her, circling her like a lion stalking its prey. She stood rigid, her eyes following his movements. He slid up to her in one fluid motion, his face inches from hers. “And here I thought we meant something to each other,” he drawled in a low, silky voice.
His eyes bore into hers, and she didn’t look or move away. She refused to let him get the better of her despite the fact that she could almost feel his breath on her lips and that her heart was suddenly inexplicably hammering in her chest. “Did you, Malfoy?” she replied, glaring back into his eyes.
He reached for her, and she gave in, jerking away from him. His lips curled in a satisfied smile. Behind them, the first years were polishing feverishly, trying not to notice the interaction between the older students. “And here I thought you were enjoying our little dance as much as I am,” he nearly purred, advancing on her again.
She backed away and spun, shooting a quick cleaning spell at the trophies. “Detention dismissed,” she said curtly, turning toward the door.
Malfoy was on her heels. “I seem to remember I am the prefect here. I could take points from you”or give you another detention.”
She spun, surprising him, and he nearly stumbled backward. “Try it, Malfoy,” she snarled. “Anything is better than being here with you.”
He chased her into the corridor, his anger rising again. He caught her arm, glaring into her blazing eyes. When she tried to pull away again, he shoved her against the cold, stone wall, trapping her wrists on either side of her head.
“Let me go, Malfoy!” she ordered.
She struggled to break free from his hold, but he pressed his body into hers, trapping her. “What do I have to do to get to you?” he growled.
She suddenly stopped moving, her body going completely still, though her breath was short. Malfoy smirked, enjoying her discomfort. “Sorry, Malfoy, but you just aren’t that important to me,” she told him in a low, cold voice.
“Not that important?” he snarled. “You will bloody well pay attention to me, Armstrong.”
She opened her mouth to respond and was cut off when his mouth crashed down upon hers. She gasped and tried to pull away, but he trapped both her wrists in one hand between them, knotting his other into her long, red hair. It wasn’t a sweet kiss; it wasn’t a gentle kiss. His lips moved over hers, and he tugged on her hair, dropping her head back to dip his tongue deeper into her mouth. It was an angry, bruising kiss, and she tried to raise her knee, but he pressed his thighs into hers, pinning her easily. He let out a low growl and then an outraged noise. He rebounded from the wall, touching his lip.
“You bit me,” he muttered, shocked.
“You kissed me!” she shrieked. “What the hell did you do that for?!”
He nearly stumbled when she pushed him, but he managed to catch her wrist again, smirking. “Try to not think about me now, Armstrong.”
She let out an outraged noise and ripped her arm out of his grasp, racing toward Ravenclaw tower.
She could hear his chuckle following her through the corridor.
***
The Ravenclaws looked up, hearing Aine outside the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower, shrieking a response to the guardian. When she burst into the common room, she raised her hands to her face and let out an angry screech. They looked up at her, startled. “What happened, Aine?” Padma Patil demanded, raising her eyebrows.
“That”bloody”bastardy”buggerdy---sodding”shagging”wanker Malfoy!” she shouted.
Terry Boot hurried over to her. “What did he do, Aine?” he demanded, scowling.
“He kissed me!”
The Ravenclaws blinked at her. “He what?” Su Li said.
“He bloody kissed me!”
“What did you do?” Michael Corner demanded.
“Nothing! Well, I bit him, but I should have cursed him into oblivion, and all I did was run away!”
“Well”“ Padma began, a smile curling her lips. “How was it?”
Aine ignited. “It was the worst bloody kiss ever!” she cried.
“I always wondered what it would be like to kiss Draco Malfoy,” Lisa Turpin muttered.
“Argh!” Aine screamed. “Like a damned snaky Slytherin, that’s what!”
Terry and Jason Samuels squared their shoulders. “Want us to rough him up?” Terry asked.
“No! No, I will take care of that bloody, shagging, sodding Slytherin!”
Luna Lovegood smiled dreamily from an overstuffed blue armchair. “Well, it looks like Malfoy’s gotten to you now, hasn’t he?”
“You shut your face, Luna!” she snarled. “No more playing sweet and ignoring him. Malfoy is dead! Dead!” She spun, storming toward the girls dormitories and slamming the door behind her.
The others looked at each other and chuckled. “Well,” Michael put in. “One thing I can say for Malfoy”he knows how to get a rise out of anyone. And he’s got some bollocks.”
An Soilsiu by India Inverse
Chapter Notes: Aine's plan backfires in a big way, Malfoy loses his temper, and Peeves makes some rude comments.