Hey Stranger, I Want You to Catch Me Like a Cold

I turned around to see Draco looking at me.

"Vat is it, dear Dracob?"

"Just follow me," he said, grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the Great Hall.

"Soo," I said, starting up a conversation as we were walking. "'How was your day with Pansy?"

He just glared at me.

"There you go again- I ask you a simple question and suddenly your knickers get all twisty."

"I just don't want to talk about her."

"Oh, okay. So what do you wanna talk about?"

My stomach let out a humongous growl. "Ouch," I laughed. "I think it's trying to eat itself."

"I can fix that," Draco stated confidently, as we arrived at a painting of a bowl of fruit. He tickled the pear with his finger and it giggled, then the painting opened up.

"Aww, it giggled," I cooed.

The room, or should I say kitchen, inside was huge.

"Woah," I said, as a little house elf came up to me. "Hi, I'm Silvie. What's your name?"

"Blinky, Miss." he smiled. "Can blinky get your or the Mister anything to eat?"

My face lit up and I grinned at Dracom then ran up to hug him. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

Then, I let go and turned to Blinky, ordering all of the most fattening foods I could think of. I turned to Draco, who was looking at me slighly increduously and slightly amused. "Did you want something?" He shook his head. "Thank you Blinky!" I called out, and watch Blinky hurry away. I spotted a little table for two, so I sat down, and Draco across from me.

"So," I started. "What do you want to talk about?"

"It doesn't matter," he said offhandedly.

"So what's your family like? Are they all British? Do you have any siblings?"

"I'm a single child to Death Eater parents." He said coldly.

Honestly, I figured his parents were Death Eaters. That is, the followers of Voldemort. But I am a big believer that people are mostly good, so it didn't bother me the least. Maybe it should have, but it didn't.

"Well that would explain it!" I exclaimed.

"Explain what?" he asked, still coldly.

"Why you're so stuck up!" I exclaimed. "Only children are always brats! But don't worry Dracob," I patted his hand consolingly. "I still love you."

He ripped his hand away. "Did you not hear the whole my parents are Death Eaters part?" he asked.

"Yeah," I shrugged, as my food came. "So what? My parents were psychologists before they moved here. You grew up listening to the teachings of Voldy, I grew up listening to the teachings of Freud. Tomato, tomaaahto."

He looked at me again, the coldness leaving him. "You really are a strange bird."

"Acthhually, I'm a 'uman," I said, through my french fries.

"And you eat like a man," he chuckled.

"Thanks."

The rest of the night passed quicky, me telling my silly family ancedotes since Draco seemed to not want to open up. After I was finished eating, he walked me back up to my common room. I hugged him goodnight. He blushed. He swears he didn't. (he totally did.)

The next day, I trudged around. Only leaving the common room to eat. Not because I was upset, but because Sunday was my chill day, as I had explained to Draco the previous night. Hermione scooted me off to bed early while I was watching Ron demolish Harry in chess. I bade them goodnight, and went to sleep.

As Hermione put it, we have a big day tomorrow.