Nobody ever asked my birthday

Popcorn

Draco was certain, by the smell, that someone had brought popcorn.

Probably Blaise - the dratted half-blood was always showing off forbidden knowledge.

(Not that Draco would complain - popcorn was delicious!)*

This time, though, Draco wasn't in the mood for popcorn. Not for himself, and certainly not for Blaise. It would break the atmosphere, which Draco wanted to be tense. He wanted Potter ready to break. Or breaking, that would work nicely too.

Draco stalked out, his head jutting forward (If he could have managed it, he'd have swung it like a snake, but that looked lame in a mirror), jaw out. He didn't say a word, just sent a dark glare right between Potter's eyes (not that Draco was afraid of mindreading - if you didn't look them in the eyes, you didn't have to feel how out-of-sorts they really were).

Despite the blasted popcorn, Draco can feel Potter's fear. And that's a good thing, because it means he doesn't need to turn the volume up.

Trust one of the Gryffindors (The Redhead, Draco thinks), to go, "Ooooh, someone's in trouble..."

Even McGonagall looks sharp and attentive.

"Potter, do you have any idea what a kiss between two young adults of marriageable age means?" Draco Malfoy said bluntly. He feared he wasn't being anywhere near blunt enough for a Gryffindor.

"Um. No?" Potter said.

"Pansy hasn't said a word to you since then, has she?" Draco continued, falling into a sort of aggravated lecturing (hectoring) tone.

"Um." Potter said, seeming to have to think about it, "No?"

Draco was suddenly violently glad that Pansy wasn't around. Such rampant ignorance of her standoffishness would have driven her cuckoo.

"In Wizarding society, a kiss was originally used to seal a marriage compact." Draco Malfoy said, to the interested whispers from Gryffindors (and some Ravenclaws, because there were always some Ravenclaws who didn't care much about history).

Harry Potter certainly didn't care, "Yeah, so?" he said, starting to let his agitation show through.

Draco Malfoy said, "Not everyone chooses to hew to that tradition, of course. Some pureblood families simply see it as a promise."

Harry looked dumbfounded, "A promise of what."

"A betrothal, Harry!" Parvati said, "Oh, that's so romantic!"

Romilda said, "I KNEW you had feelings for Parkinson! I knew it!"

Harry was no longer paying much attention to Draco, too busy glaring (and befuddled at the same time).

"First to the snitch wins!" Draco Malfoy said, straddling his broom and shooting into the sky.

It took Potter several seconds to even get airborne.

And best of all, it was All Potter's Fault.

[a/n: you remember potter whining about being followed? Yup, gonna get worse. Leave a review!

Pansy doesn't want to get married to Potter, so she's doing her best to create distance.]

*the way past prejudice, you heard it here folks, is food!