.-. Vampire At Hogwarts .-.

"Remember! Reviews are due tomorrow! 2 feet in length please!" McGonagall ordered before the bell rang.
Everyone quickly gathered their things and headed out the Defense against the Dark Arts class to the Great hall where dinner was about to be served.
"2 feet! Is the women mad?" Ron complained as he sat across from you.
"That's nothing! Remember last year when Snape made us write 2 yards! My hand would cramp just thinking about it!" you replied.
Ron nodded and you watched his gaze fall behind you.
"What are you - oh . . . " you said as you turned around to see what Ron was looking at.
Hermione stood in the center of the Great Hall scanning the Gryffindor table for someone to sit with. But all her friends were your friends too, so she was forced to sit in the only empty seat . . . next to you.
"Ron, could you pass the pumpkin juice?" Hermione asked. Ron raised an eyebrow.
"I can't reach it, besides . . . Phoebe's closer."
"Ron? Please pass the juice . . . " Hermione asked once again through clenched teeth and a forced smile.
"Here Ron . . . " you said pushing it towards him with a fork."Wouldn't want to be immature about it . . . would we?" you asked, every word seeping with sarcasm.
Ron rolled his eyes and took the juice from you, handing it to Hermione.
"Thank you . . . Ron," Hermione replied glaring at you. You rolled your eyes and began to eat the golden/brown turkey sitting on the plate in front of you.
"LOOK OUT!" someone suddenly screamed. You looked up towards the sky, but were hit in the face by your golden/red owl.
"ROBIN!" you screamed when the clumsy bird fell into the scolding hot mashed potatoes and began to screech in pain. You picked up the bird and dumped your cold drink over it.
Gryffindors and every other house fell silent as they watched an owl sit on a table, soaking wet in pumpkin juice. You blushed terribly before taking Robin off the table and up to the hospital wing where her burns could be treated.
"Oh dear . . . it looks like she was attacked by another bird. She must have been in a rush to get away . . . " Madame Pomfrey said as she rubbed a green goop over Robin's cuts and burns.
You held the piece of parchment that was attached to Robin's leg in your fingers. Its corners were bent and broken and it looked like it had water stains. Rain?
You opened the letter while Madame Pomfrey took your owl into the back room to be treated.
'Phoebe . . .
Things here are much different with you gone. I can't wait until Christmas Break to feel your lips upon mine again . . .
Love,
Draco Malfoy'
You seethed with anger. When was he going to let the matter die? You had to find Brandy.
"LOOK! Look what Blondie wrote!" you screamed as you marched into Brandy's dorm. She jumped yards into the air at the sudden intrusion, causing her to drop her book.
"What is it this time?" she asked angrily, snatching the letter from your fingers.
You paced in front of the window fuming. Brandy turned to you . . .
"Doesn't he remember how tanked you were?" she asked. You threw your hands into the air.
"Apparently not!"
"Tell him to go jack-off somewhere else!" she said as she ripped the letter up. She closed her fist around it, and the letter turned to ashes.
You raised an eyebrow at her.
"I thought you refused to use your power?"
"Only for good purposes . . . burning that letter was a good thing to do." You smiled at your best friend. "Anyways . . . you need to get him off your back," Brandy plopped down into the soft armchair.
"I've tried . . . I don't know what else to do."
Brandy and you sat in her dorm for about 45 minutes, trying to think of a way to get Draco Malfoy to stop stalking you. Well . . . not really stalking.
"What if you acted really gushy around him and sent him nasty love letters and junk?" Brandy offered. You shook your head.
"No way. I hate him and I'm not going to pretend to be in love with him."
"Ok . . . how 'bout we tell your mom?"
"What's she going to do?" you asked angrily. Draco was starting to get on your last nerve. Why did he have to think that was a real kiss?
"Let's ask someone else. They may have a better idea . . . come on," Brandy said as she dragged you down the stairs into the common room. But before you rounded the corner into the room, you heard people talking.
"I don't see why you have to be a jerk to her 'Miony!'
"I'm not! She always has to instigate! She needs to learn to shut her mouth!"
"She does not instigate!"
"Does too! The other night when she was going on and on about how I coded the password?!'
"You do have to admit though . . . that was funny."
"NO Harry! It wasn't funny! It was rude and I should have docked points!"
"You wouldn't do that to your own house!"
"A good prefect would!"
"Then I guess you're not a good prefect!"
"That's beside the point! Harry . . . I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"You want to head upstairs?" Brandy whispered to you. You shook your head and listened intently.
"I'm done talking to you about this 'Miony," you heard Harry say and then the portrait sealed itself shut. Hermione huffed and plopped down onto the couch, staring into the fireplace.
"Good job," you said sarcastically walking around the corner. Hermione glared at you.
"Shut up. I'm not in the mood."
"Obviously," you said as you plopped down in the couch opposite her. You could tell it was taking all her strength not to say anything back. You giggled and she shot you a nasty look.
"I don't see what you're laughing at," she stated matter-of-factly.
"You."
"Why?"
"Cause I can."
"Good reason," she said with a roll of her eyes.
"Well . . . I'm off to find Harry," you said as you pushed yourself off the couch. You watched Hermione stare at you and purse her lips from the corner of your eyes.
"Why do you need him?"
"Advice . . . "
"Pft. What advice can he give you when he won't even listen to it for himself," she mumbled under her breath.
You smirked to yourself as you left the common room and headed to the Quidditch Pitch. Even when Harry wasn't practicing Quidditch, he was watching other teams practice. And if other teams weren't practicing, he used the pitch as a sort of . . . getaway.
"Harrypoo!" you called out as you skipped up the bleachers. Harry looked up from his notepad and smiled at you.
"Hey trouble," he called back. You sat next to him and stuck out your bottom lip.
"I'm not trouble . . . am I?" you gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster. He smiled, put down his paper and quill, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.
"Of course not," and he planted a kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes and smiled, then remembered the real reason you wanted to talk to him.
"Harry . . . how do you tell a guy that they are annoying and you hate their guts, but they're absolutely head over heels for you?" Harry suddenly went very pale and stared into your eyes. You smiled. "You ok?" you asked. Harry shook his head in a daze.
"Um . . . I guess telling him flat out."
"Yea, but he thinks its all fun and games. I don't think he knows how much I really do hate him," Harry's face went paler and he unwrapped his arm from your shoulder.
"There's not much else you can do. Make sure he knows though. You don't want to get his hopes all high."
"Oh don't worry. I plan on telling himvery soon," you said as you rubbed your hands together. "Well . . . thanks Harry. See you around!"
"Yea . . . around," he replied. You walked away happily without knowing how devastated you just left Harry.