She was flustered. Utterly flustered and confused. The instructions to the potion that they would make the next day made no sense. The potion was a marked one and would account for 3% of their grade. Professor Snape was not so charitable when handing out his marks and did not hand them out on silver platters like Professor Flitwick who believed that if the student had gotten even the gist of the thing then they deserved a 65 out of 100. Snape gave the best potion a 60. No wonder the students barely scraped through and in N.E.W.T level there were just 8 students in the class- 4 Gryffindors and 4 Slytherins.
"If glaring at a book would help comprehend and memorize stuff, Weasel would pass with flying colours every year," a certain blonde git drawled. Hermione just huffed and slammed the book shut. Being Head Girl had its perks- own tower, common room, study room, dorm room but Malfoy was the downside of things. He was Head Boy- no surprise there (Ron thought it was very surprising). He was second best in every class and that too by only a few marks. The Heads were rarely chosen from the same house and Slytherins were cunning and made good use of their authority- even though they misused it sometimes.
So now as she sat on the sofa (a very comfortable one) she could not help but glare at the Potions textbook. As it is her schedule was so busy- Head duties, patrols, studying, assignments and then Malfoy driving her insane. It would be no surprise if one day she ripped out her own hair. "Shut up Malfoy! Can you not mind your own business for once and not make snide remarks about me and my friends. It's not like your friends are great or anything. I'd be surprised that you even have true friends. I'd rather have one true friend than thousands of friends who could stab you in the back any moment," she screamed.
He raised an eyebrow at her sudden outburst. She had hit a mark there- unlike her he did not have loyal and caring friends. His friends would turn their back on him at any chance they got. Some were his friends just because of the Malfoy name and everything under it- Theodore Nott was one, Pansy Parkinson another. Some people were just afraid of him so they befriended him like Crabbe and Goyle.
"Shut up Mudblood!" Malfoy retorted.
"How original Malfoy. Is that all you've got. Every time I say anything that you don't like, you go and call me a Mudblood. Expand your vocabulary. Seriously speaking, you've thrown the word around so much that it doesn't even affect me because just for your information, I'm proud of being a Mudblood. Better a Mudblood than a hypocritical Pureblood who considered himself superior to everything and yet complies to every wish of a hypocritical half-blooded so-called Dark Lord," she said cuttingly.
Another remark that hit right at home. "We're not all born righteous. Not all of us have been bought up with the same morals as you and Saint Potter. Not all of us were Death Eaters willingly. Not all of us have eaten up all of the encyclopedias and dictionaries of the world," Malfoy said in a low and cold voice, face devoid of expression. Then he turned around and slammed the door of his room shut leaving a baffled Hermione Granger to ponder over what his little speech meant. The Potions textbook lay forgotten on the table.