Chapter Text
Back in Runes on Wednesday, Theo pulled a chair up in front of where Hermione was sitting, leaning back in it as he raised an eyebrow at her.
He had expected her to be early to class, and to no surprise, they had the classroom to themselves.
Hermione looked up at him through her eyebrows, not raising her head from where she had it, finishing her essay, “Good morning.”
“Morning. Quick question.”
She looked up at him once again, setting her quill down, “Yes?”
“Do you really think I’m gay?”
Hermione blinked, “Sorry?” She sputtered.
Theo chuckled, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. “Well, rumour has it that you, Hermione Granger, seem to think I’ve caught Draco Malfoy’s eye. Thought I’d come straight to the source to set the record straight. Pun intended.”
Hermione sputtered, her face turning red, “I didn’t- that’s not what I- I- I wasn’t serious!” She stammered out, straightening her back to face him fully.
“I mean, I’m flattered, really. Malfoy’s good-looking enough, but I’m afraid he’s not my type.” Theo was grinning from ear to ear, “I don’t go for blondes.”
“I didn’t think he’d tell anyone!” She gasped, “It was ridiculous!”
“Ridiculous it was.” Theo agreed, nodding solemnly, “He practically jumped when I sat down next to him that night at dinner.”
She opened and closed her mouth once, eyebrows pulling together as she took in his revelation, “That night? I made that comment soon after lunch.”
Theo’s eyebrows raised slightly. “You’re proud.”
“I am not.”
“You wanted to mess with him, and it worked better than you intended!” Theo laughed.
“No!” She argued.
Theo leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Do you enjoy watching him squirm, Hermione?”
“Stop, you’re putting words in my mouth!” Hermione hissed.
“You like getting under his skin? Watching him at a loss for words? Red in the face?” Theo asked.
Hermione stared at him, her own face flushed. She hadn’t meant for it to bother him so much, but she couldn’t hide that she was pretty… what was the word? Happy? Pleased?
Malfoy had been getting under her skin for years now, mocking her for her blood status and her quick wit in the classroom. It was a weird feeling knowing she’d been able to mess with him to such an extent.
She opened her mouth to protest again, but the words caught in her throat, “Yeah…” She said, barely above a whisper.
Theo grinned widely at her, clearly pleased with her admission. “I knew it! Hermione Granger, you are playing a dangerous game, but you have my full support.” He laughed.
Hermione's face flushed deeper, her eyes darting to the desk, not quite meeting Theo's gaze. “I’m not playing any game,” she muttered, half-defensive, half-embarrassed. “It was just... one comment. It’s not like I’m actually trying to get a rise out of him. It’s done.”
Theo nodded as he stood up, moving the chair back to its place as the class started to fill with students, “Of course, of course. Just a harmless comment that made Malfoy squirm and gave you that little spark of satisfaction you only get when you answer a question right in class.”
Once Runes had ended, Hermione stood up, swinging her bag over her shoulder.
Theo waited for her to finish collecting her stuff. “Ready?”
“Oh, I’m not walking with you. Not after what happened on Monday.” She scoffed.
“You didn’t enjoy Draco calling you gorgeous?”
“No, surprisingly.” Hermione rolled her eyes, walking to the door.
Theo quickly followed, “You should tell him that.”
“You enjoy your friend's torture too much.” She sighed.
“You don’t?”
“Not really, no. I don’t actually look forward to Harry being upset and embarrassed.”
Theo hummed, “What about Weasley?”
“What about Ron?” Hermione shook her head.
“Well, do you enjoy it when he’s upset?”
“You’re making me out to be some sadist!” She laughed, stopping by the door of the D.A.D.A classroom, “I do not enjoy my friend's discomfort.”
Theo sighed, “Okay, okay, if you say so. I’ll leave you to wait for said friends. Don’t really want Weasley trying to hex me again.” He shook his head.
Hermione pressed her lips together, “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“You didn’t try hexing me. Don’t apologise for Weasley.” Theo shook his head, hurrying into the room.
Hermione slid down the wall, holding her bag close as she waited for Harry and Ron, trying not to think too hard about what Theo had said.
“Your boyfriends taking too long, Granger?” Malfoy drew her out of her thoughts a moment later.
She looked up at him, eyebrows pulling together, “My what?”
“Potter and Weasley?” Malfoy spoke as if she should’ve known, “Are they too busy snogging to come to class?”
Hermione stared at the blonde, trying to decipher his words, “Malfoy…” She couldn’t find any words.
“Are you done?” she finally managed, her voice calm, though she felt anything but.
Malfoy’s expression faltered for just a second. “Done with what, Granger?”
“Your sad attempts to get a reaction out of me,” she replied, her tone brisk as she stood.
Malfoy’s smirk dropped. “I’m not doing anything, Granger.”
“Please,” She scoffed, “You’re trying to get on my nerves like I did yours Monday.”
“You did not get on my nerves.”
“Theo says you were practically jumping from the walls.”
Malfoy scowled, “Theo doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Hermione nodded, “Sure he doesn’t, Malfoy. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll just wait for Harry and Ron inside.” She moved to walk into the classroom.
She could practically feel Malfoy's anger behind her when he blurted out.
“I wouldn’t wait too long. Weasley seemed rather interested in his conversation with Brown when I passed by them.”
Hermione froze in the doorway. Her breath had caught in her throat, and she could feel her face growing red, a confusing anger and embarrassment flooding her insides.
Slowly, the girl turned around to face Malfoy.
Malfoy was waiting, arms crossed, his expression triumphant. There was a glint in his grey eyes that told Hermione he’d noticed her reaction—and he was revelling in it.
“Something wrong, Granger?” he taunted, arching a pale brow.
Hermione wanted to respond, she really did, but Malfoy was beating her to it every time she tried to speak, “What? Don’t tell me you’re actually jealous of Brown.”
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, tightening her hold on her bag. “Jealous of Lavender Brown?” She asked, trying to keep her voice light and dismissive, “She’s a ditz. Honestly, Malfoy, you give yourself too much credit if you think you can read me that well."
To her surprise, Malfoy seemed even happier at the response she’d given him. He was practically lavishing in it.
He stepped closer to Hermione, tilting his head in mock pity, “A ditz is she?”
Hermione steadied herself, refusing to take a step back. "Yes, a ditz. She’s got nothing to talk about except the latest gossip and her hair and the Quidditch boy-“ Her eyes widened, putting a hand over her mouth as she realised she'd walked right into his trap.
“Don’t stop on my account. Tell me more about what a ditz Brown is.”
Hermione pressed her lips together, unwilling to give Malfoy the satisfaction of watching her trip over her own words again. She could feel her cheeks burning and wished she could vanish on the spot.
“I think I’ve said enough.” She huffed.
“Does Weasley know about your infatuation with him? Does Saint Potter?” He asked, “Gryffindor’s golden girl knocked down a peg or two— by her own friends no less.”
Hermione stared at him. Ginny had pointed out her doe-eyed look over the summer, but that was different. She’d lived with Ginny all summer. Ginny was her friend. Ginny knew how to read her. But if Malfoy could see how she was feeling… Was she really that obvious?
“I don’t even have to do anything, Granger. I just have to sit back and enjoy.” Malfoy whispered, his breath ghosting over her face. When did he get so close? “And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”
Malfoy was pushed away from her, and Harry held his wand out at him, “Get moving, Malfoy.”
Malfoy scowled, “I was just leaving, Potter. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” He sneered as he walked into the classroom, pushing past Hermione.
Harry turned to her, his face drawn together in worry as he stepped towards her, placing his hands on her arms, “What the hell was he on about?” He asked, eyes running over her pale face and glossy eyes, “Hermione, whatever he said-"
"Class is about to start. We should get in our seats, Harry." Hermione murmured, turning away from him and hurrying to her seat.
Harry hesitated, still looking at Hermione with concern. He wanted to ask what had happened, why she looked so off, but she was already walking briskly towards her seat. With a resigned sigh, he followed her into the classroom.
He sat down next to her, but she was already bent over her parchment, scribbling whatever Snape had put up on the board down.
He glanced over at Ron, who had just entered the room, his expression brightening when he saw them. He took a seat next to Harry. “She’s already doing the work?”
Harry nodded, “Malfoy was messing with her.”
Hermione slammed her quill down, turning to face the two boys, “I am sitting right here!” She snapped, and they both leaned away.
Ron’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at Hermione’s outburst, “Malfoy’s a git.”
“I can handle myself, thank you very much.” She huffed, moving her hair out of her face, “I’ve been dealing with Malfoy’s cowardice for five years now, one more won’t change anything. And, for the record, yes, Ron, I am doing the work already because I was here on time, unlike you. Do I even want to know what you were doing that caused you to be late?”
Harry stared at Hermione, "Hermione, he wasn't late. He wasn't early, but class hasn't started yet." He spoke carefully.
Hermione’s eyes flickered to Harry, a flash of frustration crossing her face. She didn’t say anything else, turning back to her parchment as Snape started the lesson.
Pansy watched as Draco walked into class, smugness written all over his face as he sat down next to her.
“What did you do?” She asked expectantly.
He glanced over at her, his posture casual but his eyes gleaming with that same glint of mischief.
“What do you mean, what did I do?” Draco asked
“I mean,” She emphasised, “Theo left Granger out there, and the other night you had a plan to get back at her for what she said about you.”
He shrugged, “I didn’t do much. I just reminded her that her saintly friends aren’t actual saints.”
Theo watched Draco’s face, narrowing his eyes slightly, “Not that I don’t love this game you two are playing-“
“I am not playing any games with Granger.” He cut him off.
He rolled his eyes, “Not that this isn’t entertaining,” he corrected, “but you aren’t being… mean… right?”
“What?” Draco scoffed, looking at him, “Mate, if you want to be friendly with the mudblood during Runes, fine, but don’t actually turn into her friend.”
Pansy’s eyes drifted to the door, watching as Hermione shuffled into class and slipped into her seat, her head ducked down. She looked back at Draco, “Theo’s asking if you might be taking things too far.”
Draco groaned, “Not you too, Pansy.”
Theo nodded, “Yeah, I mean, she was obviously joking when she said that thing about…” He motioned between him and Draco, “us, on Monday. You’re actually playing with her feelings, though.”
Draco scowled, “It’s not like I’m doing anything different.”
“Now that’s not true.” Blaise scoffed, joining the conversation, “You go after Potter and Weasley. You haven't ever really gone after Granger except to call her a mudblood.”
“Which she is.”
“You’re not just bickering, Draco.” Pansy sighed, “You’re pushing buttons that didn’t exist until recently.” She looked over at Hermione, scolding Weasley for something she couldn’t hear.
As class finished, Hermione walked out with Ron and Harry, her head to the ground. All class, she’d felt someone’s eyes on her, but whenever she’d turn around, there was no one looking.
“Homework in the common room?” Harry asked.
She gave a small nod but didn’t say anything, walking up the stairs to their common room.
When they got there, she made herself comfortable on the ground by the fire, pulling her parchment out of her bag.
Ron was slouched in his chair, flipping through a textbook absentmindedly, while Harry was scribbling notes, glancing up now and then to see if Hermione was alright.
Just as they started getting comfortable in the silence when a high-pitched voice broke it, and Hermione pressed her eyes closed.
“Harry!” Lavender said, leaning over the couch, “I heard you’re Quidditch captain this year Is that true?”
Harry blinked at her, “Er- yeah. Yeah, I am. You’re interested?”
Lavender laughed, “Godric’s no. I’d rather stand to the side and cheer you guys on. It’s truly a shame we don’t have a cheer team. We could cheer for you guys.”
Hermione’s grip on her quill tightened as she tried to focus on the parchment in front of her. She could feel Harry’s discomfort, though, and it made her skin crawl just a little more. Lavender’s voice, so high-pitched and overly eager, was like an incessant buzzing in her ears.
Lavender perched herself on the arm of the couch next to Harry, giving him a warm, expectant smile as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger.
“I bet you’re really good too, Ron. It’s a real surprise you weren’t made captain. I ‘spose you can’t be captain and a prefect though.”
Harry looked over at Hermione, rolling his eyes.
Ron looked up at Lavender, grinning stupidly, “You think I could be captain?”
“Oh yeah. If Harry wasn’t Harry, you’d definitely be captain.”
Harry scoffed.
Hermione stole a glance at Harry, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the cushions of the couch. Ron, on the other hand, looked as if he couldn't get enough of it.
Oblivious as ever, Ron gave a lopsided grin. “Well, thanks, Lavender. Nice to know someone sees it.”
Lavender laughed, a sound that grated on Hermione’s already thin patience. “Oh, absolutely! You’re just so... what’s the word? Reliable. I mean, Harry’s great and all, but you’re the backbone of the team, you know?”
She got on the couch, practically pushing Harry off.
Harry got on the ground, elbowing Hermione with a pointed look, silently asking her to help stop the other girl.
She straightened her back and took a calming breath, speaking before she could overthink it.
“Lavender, don’t you have an essay to write for Defence Against the Dark Arts?” Hermione’s tone was as casual as she could make it, though there was a slight edge to her words.
Lavender glanced at her, the briefest flicker of annoyance flashing across her face before her usual sugary smile returned. “Oh, I’ve already finished it, Hermione. You know, some of us don’t need all evening to complete our work.”
Ron snorted. “Blimey, Hermione, maybe you should ask Lavender for tips. She’d probably finish all your essays in half the time.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped, looking over at Ron, “I put effort into my work, unlike some people. If I didn’t care enough to perfect my work, I’d have it done in no time.”
“Is that why rumour has it Harry is doing better in potions this year?” Lavender asked.
“Excuse me?” Hermione asked, her voice unnervingly calm.
"You’ve always been the best at everything, Hermione, but maybe someone’s just finally outpaced you.”
Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Lavender, I’m not—”
“Harry is working really hard to better himself, Lavender. He doesn’t spend all his time gossiping rather than practising like some people.” Hermione cut Harry off.
Lavender frowned, “Then what’s your excuse?”
“Excuse for what?”
“For not being perfect anymore.” She responded, “I mean you spend all your time practising like Harry and you never have any fun like Ron and me.”
“Ron and I,” Hermione corrected.
“No, Hermione, you don’t have fun. That’s what I’m saying.”
Hermione closed her eyes, “No, Lavender, it would be Ron and I, not Ron and me.”
Lavender laughed, “See what I mean? You just have to be right. Who cares if I say me instead of I?”
“When you’re the object of the sentence, it’s ‘I,’ not ‘me’. It’s basic grammar.” Hermione spoke.
“Is she always so competitive, Ron?” Lavender asked, rolling her eyes.
“Well, she just likes to be right,” Ron explained.
“And she normally is.” Harry hurried to add.
Lavender sighed, “Well, if you ever want to study with someone who won’t fight you every step of the way, you know where to find me.” She said to Ron.
Hermione snapped her book shut. “I’ll be in the library.” She said, grabbing her stuff up from the ground as she stood up, “Don’t come after me.”
“Ron’s dumb, Hermione.” Ginny sighed as they ate lunch, “Just forget about it.”
“She basically told me I’m a prick.”
“You’re a nitpick. It’s not a bad thing.”
Hermione stabbed her fork into a piece of roasted potato. “She was calling me dumb! She called me an idiot all while saying 'Ron and me' when it was supposed to be 'Ron and I'.”
“Lavender is an idiot, Hermione. We know this already.” Ginny said, resting her chin on her hand.
“She was talking down to me, and Ron just sat there staring at her! At least Harry tried to step in and get her to stop.”
“Ron’s too thick to notice anything. You’re wasting your energy.”
Hermione scowled as Harry took a seat next to her, “Y’know, Hermione, you could’ve told us you were coming down for lunch.” He said pointedly.
“Hermione’s about ready to throw a thesaurus at Lavender.” Ginny turned her attention to Harry.
Harry groaned, “Because of her sudden obsession with grammar and-“
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Harry Potter.” Hermione cut him off with a look.
“Ron doesn’t seem to mind her… enthusiasm.” He redirected, and Hermione groaned.
Harry frowned.
“She’s so obvious it’s embarrassing!” Hermione said, looking over at Harry, “Honestly, how anyone can be in the room when she’s throwing herself at him, I’ll never understand.”
“It’s awkward, but I honestly don't know why it bothers you so much.” Harry responded, “It’s not like you cared this much when I was obsessing over Cho.”
“Gee, I wonder why.” The sarcasm practically dripped from Ginny’s voice, her eyes looking at Harry as if he were the most oblivious person in the world.
“Don’t start,” Hermione warned.
“I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying,” Hermione said quickly, flushing slightly as she turned her attention back to her plate. “And you’re wrong.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow and looked down the table, “Ay, Dean!” She called, and he walked towards her. “Tell me something. You think Hermione’s got a thing for Ron?”
“Ginny!” Hermione screeched.
Ginny, of course, ignored Hermione’s protests. “Just a simple question, Dean. You’ve been around enough to notice things.” She gestured toward Hermione with her fork like a prosecutor presenting evidence. “Does it look like she’s got a thing for Ron?”
Dean glanced at Hermione, then at Harry, who was desperately avoiding eye contact, and finally back at Ginny, his grin widening. “Well… if you ask me—”
“No one’s asking,” Hermione said.
“I am.” Ginny added, “It’s a simple yes or no.”
Dean opened his mouth to respond, and Harry jumped into the conversation, “Don’t. Not unless you want her to hex you.”
Ginny groaned, “Harry! She’s been snapping at everyone for days now, and it always comes down to the same thing. Ron. If it’s not about him, then what is it?”
“It’s about the principle of things!” Hermione argued, “Lavender is setting women back centuries. She’s throwing herself at him, and all she ever does is gossip, and she’s unbearably obnoxious. Have you ever seen her not looking at her reflection? I caught her checking herself out in her syrup one morning.”
They all stared at her for a moment.
Ginny was the first to break the silence, “You’re claiming you’re this invested because of… feminism?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve actually gone mental,” Harry muttered.
“I have not!” Hermione argued, “I’m going to potions. You’re both being ridiculous.” She muttered.
“We still have another hour until potions.” Harry pointed out.
“I don’t care! Apparently, I need all the time I can get.”
As Hermione stormed off, Harry turned to Ginny.
“She’s already on edge, and you’re pushing her.”
Ginny sighed, “She needs to get her head out of her arse. Ron’s not going to wait around forever.”
"Yeah, well, maybe laying off her would help," Harry muttered, glancing at the empty spot where Hermione had been sitting. “She’s not one of your girlfriends, Ginny. She’s Hermione.”
Ginny rolled her eyes, “Harry, what you and my dear brother may be too dense to notice is that Hermione is my friend and, more importantly, a girl. Hence, one of my girlfriends. She’s not as different as you lot think she is.”
“Hermione is wound up tighter than a spring. Ron is as dense as a troll. And Lavender Brown is doing my head in. Just drop it.”
“The sooner someone does something about it, the better.” Ginny agreed.
“Do what, exactly?” Harry asked, crossing his arms. “Shove Ron and Hermione into a broom cupboard and tell them to sort it out?”
Ginny grinned mischievously. “It’s not the worst idea you've ever heard.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Harry warned, his voice firm.
“It was your idea!”
Draco adjusted the flame beneath his potion, barely listening as Daphne recounted her summer to the group.
“I mean, honestly, can you believe my Mother?” She asked with a scoff, pulling her legs up onto the table to crisscross them.
Blaise rolled his eyes, “If your Mother saw how you were sitting-“
Pansy smacked him over the head, “Don’t. I cannot believe she tried to set you up with Thornwell of all people.”
Draco smirked faintly as he measured out a precise amount of powdered asphodel, letting it cascade into his cauldron with a steady hand.
“Thornwell?” he drawled, finally deigning to enter the conversation. “Isn’t he the one who thinks Gobstones tournaments count as ‘riveting social engagements’?”
Daphne groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Exactly! And he spent the entire dinner explaining the intricacies of Gobstone strategy to my parents like it was some grand art form.”
“Sounds like a thrilling evening,” Blaise said dryly.
“My father was thrilled.” Daphne admitted, “Said he’s a 'perfectly suitable match' for a 'troubled young girl'. Somebody tell my father I am not troubled.”
None of them responded, and she gasped.
“I am not troubled!”
Blaise sat up with a sigh, “No, you’re not, but when compared to Astoria…” He trailed off at the mention of Daphne’s younger sister.
Daphne tossed Draco’s potion book at Blaise, “Don’t even start. Just because she’s perfect doesn’t mean the rest of us are troubled.”
“Your parents also love Pansy.” Theo pointed out, “Maybe you are the problem.”
Pansy smirked, proud of her status, “Well, I am perfect.”
Draco snorted. “Perfectly insufferable,” He muttered under his breath, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed his amusement.
Pansy hit him playfully, “Hey, that’s your future wife you’re talking about.” She teased.
“If you were my wife, I’d take my father’s place in his cell.”
The table erupted in laughter, even Daphne momentarily forgetting her indignation to join in. Pansy, however, gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as though Draco had physically wounded her.
“You wound me, Draco,” she said, her voice dripping with faux offence.
“Which is exactly why you’ll never be my wife.”
“Oh? And if not me, who?” Pansy asked. It was an ongoing joke between the group. They all knew Pansy and Draco’s families expected them to marry. Their mothers seemed to agree they were better off as friends, however.
“Granger?” Theo asked.
Draco dropped the spoon he was stirring his potion with, turning to Theo, “Excuse me?”
Theo pointed towards the open door as Granger stormed into the room, unaware of their presence, as she sat down at her station.
Draco turned around, raising an eyebrow as the Gryffindor started flipping through her potions book.
Pansy followed the girl with her eyes, watching as she gathered her materials, “Already trying for extra credit, Granger?” She called across the room.
Granger jumped, her bushy hair moving with her as she looked over at them.
“I didn’t realise anyone else was in here. Just wanted to get a head start.” She responded simply, heading back to her station with her ingredients.
“I believe that’s called cheating,” Pansy said.
Granger closed her eyes for a moment before turning to her, “I’m not in the mood, alright? You’re all already working on your potion as well. Can we just be civil for an hour?”
Draco couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath, and Pansy glanced over at him with interest.
“You Gryffindors and your dramatics.” Daphne sighed, lying down, now taking up the majority of their table.
“I’m not engaging,” Granger muttered under her breath.
For a moment, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the sound of bubbling cauldrons and the occasional rustle of parchment. Draco took advantage of the quiet, his attention once more drifting toward the potion he was brewing.
He was more than aware of the way Pansy’s eyes danced over him as if waiting for him to say something.
Pansy moved to sit next to Theo, leaning toward his ear as she whispered.
Blaise nodded at them, “What are you two whispering about?”
Pansy leaned away from Theo, pressing her lips together and making a zipping motion over them.
Draco shot a glance at Pansy. She was always up to something, and he was far too familiar with her schemes. He wasn’t in the mood for one of her games today. His eyes flicked over to Granger, who was now concentrating fully on her own cauldron, determined to ignore the tension in the room.
“You plan on acting like we’re not here the entire hour, Granger?” He called, wanting to beat Pansy to whatever she was planning. Maybe if he could distract her from her plotting, he could actually get his work done.
Pansy looked back over at Theo, biting back her smug grin, her eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Blaise watched his two friends with interest, taking in their silent discussion. When it came to Pansy, it was as if she could have a whole discussion without ever opening her mouth.
Daphne tilted her head back, watching Granger with an upside-down grin, “Hermione.” She sang, rolling onto her stomach.
Granger glanced over at the two blondes, trying to ignore their attention-seeking comments, but it was growing harder and harder. She’d hoped to escape to some peace and quiet.
She took a deep breath, trying to focus on her work, but Draco's voice broke through once again.
"What's the matter, Granger? Not even a sarcastic comment to fire back with?" Draco's voice was smooth, his tone mocking.
Still nothing but the sound of Pansy and Theo’s whispering.
Daphne pouted, looking over at Draco, “She won’t even look over to scold me for lying on the table.”
Draco looked over at Daphne, rolling his eyes, “Would you listen?”
“No.” She said simply, “But it’s fun to be told not to do something.”
Blaise scoffed, “And you wonder why your parents think you’re troubled.”
There. Right there. He could see her eyes flick over towards them, and he straightened slightly, tilting his head as he took it in. It was small. If he hadn’t been watching, he would’ve missed it completely.
Theo sighed, “Okay, Draco, you tried. She didn’t bite. Leave her alone.”
“Oh, she bit alright.” He muttered to himself with a smirk. He didn’t turn as he spoke, “How’s your mother, Blaise? She still talking to that Romanian guy?”
It happened again. Granger looked up from her potion, though not at them this time.
Blaise’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “She’s doing well.”
“Think it’ll be another marriage? What’ll that be? Her eighth?” Draco asked.
Blaise shot Draco a sharp look, and Daphne looked over at him, silently asking what it was he thought he was doing.
Draco’s eyes flicked briefly to Granger, who was trying—unsuccessfully—to pretend she wasn’t listening. Her posture was stiff, and her eyes were narrowed at her cauldron, but Draco knew better. He could feel the tension radiating off her like an aura, and it was almost enough to make him smirk. She was still listening, still biting her tongue, even if she wasn’t acknowledging them.
Theo walked over to Granger, taking a seat next to her, much to the shock of the others.
“Ignore him.” He said, “Where’s Potter and Weasley?”
Granger looked up from her potion for a moment, meeting Theo’s eyes before looking back down.
Draco’s jaw set in place, watching as Theo moved closer to Granger, speaking to her again, this time quieter than before, so he couldn’t make it out.
What he could make out was the way Granger smiled at whatever Theo was saying.
He watched as Granger started chopping some Baneberry, and he lazily called out to Theo, “Careful, Nott. She put your father in Azkaban. You might be next."
Theo’s easy smile faltered, and he swallowed thickly, turning towards Draco.
Granger’s hand had frozen mid-chop: “I didn’t put anyone in Azkaban, Malfoy.” She said, “Their own actions did.” She wasn’t looking at him, though. She stared at Theo, a guilty expression on her face.
Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Theo spoke first.
“Leave it, Draco.” He said, “Unless you feel like discussing your own family's escapades that night.”
Pansy leaned over to Blaise, “Do you think Granger’s realised she’s suddenly the most interesting person in the room?”
Blaise chuckled, “Jealous Theo can get her to talk, Draco?”
Draco scowled, “As if I care.”
Daphne screeched, sitting up as Draco’s potion brewed over the cauldron.
“Honestly, Draco!” She scolded, pulling her wand out to diminish the flame under his cauldron, “Are you dense or just trying to blow us all up?”
Draco groaned, waving Daphne off as she saved his potion from complete disaster. “I had it under control.”
Daphne shot him a glare. “Clearly. You were too busy antagonising Granger to notice your potion boiling over.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Granger glance over, her lips twitching as though she was suppressing a smile.
“Laugh it up, Granger,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough to sound nonchalant. “Not all of us have the time to memorise the entire Advanced Potion-Making text.”
Granger finally looked up, meeting his gaze. “Maybe if you spent less time trying to provoke people, Malfoy, you’d have brewed it correctly the first time.”
Draco scowled, but before he could respond, the door to the potions room opened once more, Professor Slughorn walking in.
“Oh, dear, look at that.” Slughorn spoke, “You’ve already started.”
Granger tore her eyes away from Draco, looking at the professor, “Oh, yes, Professor, I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to practice the potion before class.”
Slughorn seemed more than pleased, “Initiative makes for a wonderful potioner, Miss Granger. I do hope you’ll consider sticking with the subject.”
Draco rolled his eyes as he saw Granger beam at the professor.
Students started rolling into the classroom, and Daphne hopped off the counter.
“Theo.” She called, moving to her own cauldron, “Do come over before Draco decides to burn another potion.”