Filch caught him. He was cold, he was wet, and he was pissed. If Filch wanted a shot at him right now,
Draco thought, he could bloody well take it, but he’d be leaving in tears and with a limp.
*Little slut! Stupid pretentious little slut!*
Pansy Parkinson. Draco was fed up with her, just like he’d been before they’d started going out, but this was
a different kind of fed up. He couldn’t stand her anymore, and just looking at her face lately made him feel ill
as he though of all the things she could be... and what she was.
*Pretentious little slut!*
He couldn’t take it anymore. Her nagging little voice, her whining, and how she argued with everything he
ever said and any suggestion he ever made. “No Draco, I don’t think my hairs too long...” he’d never said it
was! He’d just said that it would probably look better if it was shorter. “No, I don’t think I need to wear
glasses,” not need glasses!? She was half blind, and he was sick and tired of having to watch her squint.
“Draco, that’s disgusting!” Oh grow up little girl! Little slut...
*Stupid pretentious little slut!*
After a few more minutes of raging blindly through the castle, Draco realized suddenly he had entered a
room he had never seen before. Oh that’s great, he mentally snarled, now he was lost too! He’d stumbled
into a place that was entirely bare except for on large, antique looking mirror that loomed in the middle of
the floor. There was scribbles along its frame that Draco recognized easily as simple backwards writing, but
with the darkness he couldn’t make it out.
Ever vain even in blind rage, the pale faced boy flicked back a lock of his hair and glanced into the mirror,
only to feel his heart leap into his throat. Potter was in the room! He whirled around, ready to draw his
wand, because he knew the annoying little prat would require at the minimal a death threat to keep him from
telling and losing Slytherin points and at the same time getting Draco a nice detention. But Harry wasn’t
there.
Confused, Draco’s eyes swept the room, looking for where his rival was hiding. There was no where to hide.
Draco looked back into the mirror, and sure enough, there he was, but in the reflecting glass behind him
stood Harry. He advanced on the mirror, studying it warily. The letter etched in the top came into focus:
Erised.
Draco stared on in horror as his reflection turned towards the Harry behind him, slipped his arms over his
shoulder, and pulled him into a deep kiss.