A Dramione drabble written for Russian Roulette, over on HPFC. The gun was Era, the bullet was Trio Era.
Talking
Hermione Granger wasn't much of a talker. I mean, sure, amongst friends, she could be very vocal, but she didn't talk with people she didn't know. She didn't talk to people she didn't like. Above all, though, she didn't talk in the library when she was trying to study.
So, when Draco Malfoy slid into the chair opposite her and fixed her with his smug stare and amused smile, she broke all three of her talking rules at once.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, staring coldly back at him.
"Nothing, I was just wondering how you manage to not touch the parchment with your nose while you write," he commented.
"It's called depth perception," she mumbled back as she turned back to her Herbology essay.
"Of course you'd know that, you know everything, don't you?" he replied, and Hermione thought she could detect sarcasm in his voice.
"Not everything, no. I don't know why you're talking to me."
"Because you interest me," he said, and suddenly his smile was gone. She looked up at him again. She didn't know what he meant by that, or what he was trying to say. Hermione hated not knowing.
"Why is a Mudblood like me worth your interest?" she countered, emphasising the derogatory term as it left a bad taste in her mouth.
"I don't know," he replied, and stood to leave.