Wrong Girl, Potter
There are a few things you really shouldn’t do around Draco Malfoy. Mention his girlfriend. Accuse her of cheating. Or mistake someone else’s legs for hers. He knows every inch of her body , and he’s not shy about saying it.
WORDS:1,600–1,800 words.
It wasn’t even seven o'clock when a wave of green uniforms stormed the Quidditch pitch. The silver Slytherin crest gleamed even on the handles of their brand-new brooms, as if they’d shown up purely to flaunt the superiority they so loved to display.
“Harry, I haven’t finished yet!” Colin complained, fumbling frantically with his camera’s tripod, trying to adjust the angle.
Harry sighed, glancing at the three or four team members still waiting to be photographed.
That afternoon they had booked the field not just for practice, but to let Colin take some decent pictures of the entire team for that year’s yearbook.
“Don’t worry, Colin. We’ve still got half an hour. They’ll wait,” he said calmly, though his icy gaze was already fixed on the approaching Slytherin group, strutting in with far too much confidence for his liking.
Colin offered a nervous smile and returned to the camera, while Ron Weasley, standing in front of the lens, twisted his hands inside his gloves like he wanted to tear them off.
“I feel like an idiot in this pose” Ron muttered, face flushed and visibly uncomfortable.
“Maybe lift the gloves a bit, Ron. Pretend you're catching the Quaffle. That’s better!” Harry encouraged him.
Ron grumbled something that sounded a lot like an insult but still tried to pose, raising his gloves as if blocking a shot.
“Beautiful, Weasley!” The shout came from the Slytherin group, and the sarcastic tone left no doubt.
“You’ve got a future in Witches on Broomsticks, Weasley! Maybe in the ‘How Not to Play Quidditch’ section!”
Ron dropped his gloves, face redder than his hair.
“Can’t we just take these bloody photos another time?” he muttered through clenched teeth.
“McGonagall wants them ready by tomorrow, and the lighting needs to match” Harry explained, trying to keep calm.
“Ignore them, Ronald. Let them laugh, it’s still our pitch for the next thirty minutes” Ginny said
“Yeah, exactly! Ignore us, Weasley! We wouldn’t want to distract you while you’re making a fool of yourself!”
Malfoy’s voice didn’t take long to follow. Ron clenched his fists in the gloves and stepped forward, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Cut it out, Malfoy” Harry said, voice low but venomous.
Draco smiled, tilting his head smugly.
“What? We’re just giving honest advice.”
He paused, then threw a glance at Ginny, who was clearly trying not to fire back.
“To save time, though, why not just give the gloves to the other Weasley? They’ve got the same face, same lack of talent… only, one of them actually has the guts to sleep with you, Potter.”
“...maybe you should worry about your own bed, Malfoy. Sounds like there are surprises in there” Harry shot back, eyes narrowed.
Draco’s smile faded for a second. Slowly, he handed his broom to Goyle and stepped forward, squaring off against Harry.
“Careful what you say, Potter” he said, now face-to-face. “No one talks about my girlfriend.”
“I wouldn’t if your girlfriend didn’t give us so much to talk about” Harry replied
Then he turned toward Colin, who was clearly trying to disappear.
“Colin! You still have that photo?”
“ Harry, I really don’t think that’s a good idea…” Colin murmured, but it was too late.
“What photo?” Draco asked, his grey eyes narrowing to slits.
Colin paled, hesitating.
He let out a shaky breath and pulled a photo from his uniform pocket. Draco snatched it from his hand before he could even regret it.
“I was adjusting the lighting and… well, this came out” Colin mumbled.
It showed two figures hidden in the stands of the Quidditch pitch. The girl had long raven-black hair and wore the Hogwarts uniform. She was leaning forward, face hidden by her hair, while Cormac McLaggen caressed her thigh, just above the knee, clearly lifting her skirt.
Even Theodore peeked at the photo behind Draco and went pale, shooting Blaise a worried glance. Both the Gryffindors and Slytherins held their breath. Everyone was bracing for the explosion.
But it never came.
After a moment of silence, a smug smile spread across Draco’s lips.
“This is your big scandal, Potter?” he said, briefly holding the photo up in front of him.
“That’s not Ramona” he said confidently.
“I know every inch of my girlfriend’s body, Potter. And trust me… those are not her legs” he added with a venomous smile, shoving the photo against Harry’s chest.
Then, almost for his own amusement, he studied the photo again and raised a brow.
“And besides, Ramona never wears those boring pantyhouse with the uniform. Only lace stockings… Not that you’d know the difference, Potter.”
The entire Gryffindor team blanched.
Even Ron, who had been gripping his broom nervously, turned beet red, and earned a punch in the stomach from his sister.
After all, Slytherin or not, Ramona was the kind of girl who made heads turn.
Draco turned away, taking his broom back from Goyle.
“Let’s go. We’ve got better things to do than waste time on this crap” he ordered his teammates.
Before leaving the ground, though, he turned one last time toward Harry.
“Oh, and Potter… next time you think you’ve got a picture of my girlfriend, don’t worry. I already have an excellent collection of my own.”
And with that, he rose into the air, leaving a pitch full of fuming Gryffindors behind.
✧❖✦❖✧
The Great Hall was slowly emptying at that hour, and the tables had just been cleared of the last traces of food. The scent of hot soup and cream pastries still lingered in the air when Ramona entered, two heavy Advanced Herbology tomes clutched in her arms.
The sound of her low heels echoed off the stone walls, drawing the attention of more than a few students still chatting or finishing homework.
But Ramona didn’t notice at first.
She had barely taken a few steps before she felt it, that heavy, focused stare. Too intense. Too obvious.
She stopped midway between the two tables and turned slowly. The glacial glare on her face froze the three Gryffindors caught red-handed.
“Do any of you idiots need something?” she asked, voice sharp as a blade, scanning them one by one.
Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas turned bright red and dropped their gazes to their empty plates, while Colin Creevey fidgeted nervously with his camera.
“…Or maybe you’d prefer I tell McGonagall why you were staring at my legs instead of doing your homework?” she added, even more venomously.
No one answered. Finnigan and Thomas exchanged awkward glances, and Colin nearly dropped the camera trying to shove it back into its case.
Ramona sighed, annoyed, and rolled her eyes before turning decisively on her heel.
When she reached the Slytherin table, Draco looked up at her. One eyebrow raised.
Ramona dropped the books on the table with a dull thud, never breaking eye contact.
“Something to say, Draco?” she asked, hands still resting on the heavy leather covers.
Draco tilted his head slightly, the smirk still there.
“Nothing,” he said, the crooked grin widening. “Just funny how many Gryffindors probably won’t sleep tonight because of you.”
Ramona stared at him for a second, brows barely furrowed. Then, with a slow breath, she shook her head and collapsed onto the bench beside him, waving a dismissive hand.
“I’ve got way too much homework to waste thoughts on you or the Gryffindors tonight” she muttered as she dropped into her seat carelessly, unintentionally revealing the lace edge of her thigh-highs to a very satisfied Malfoy.
MASTERLIST
