Draco flicked his head again in an irritated gesture to get his sweaty white-blonde hair out of his eyes. He'd been pouring over his bubbling cauldron for the past hour and fifteen minutes attempting to make the draught of living death. It wasn't going well. He couldn't concentrate what with the Golden Boy leering at him. There had to be some way he was cheating. Malfoy was never the best in the class, but he certainly was no stranger to potions. It had been his best subject until Slughorn had taken over. As much as he hated to admit it, Draco was particularly missing the special treatment he had been getting from Professor Snape.
He scowled again into his cauldron, willing the liquid within to sizzle out of the opaque navy into crystal clear.
It didn't work.
This year was NOT going well. Not only was his father prisoned up in Azkaban, but his mother was always ill and never really paid him much attention anyway. He had enough pressure in his life without failing potions as well. To top it off, he had the fleeting suspicion the Golden Boy himself was tracking his every move.
Draco shot a death glare at the famous Harry Potter as professor Slughorn praised his every move. Again. With slight satisfaction, he realized that everyone it seemed was getting rather tired of Potter's overabundant claims to fame. Weasley's expression could only be explained as someone who had swallowed a very nasty batch of bobataur puss. Draco's steely grey gaze flicked to the table behind them where he was surprised (although he'd never admit it) to see that mudblood Granger's face was a perfect reflection of his own. She was glaring daggers at the back of Harry's head as though she'd been practicing it for years.
With an unfamiliar pang in his stomach, Draco realized that she had been. Only for once, HE wasn't the subject of her animosity. Hermione's brow was furrowed and he could almost hear her mutterings as she turned her face back to her own steaming cauldron. Right before she gathered her things to leave, however, her gaze flicked over to Draco's.
Hermione's big brown eyes blinked a few times before she realized what she was seeing. Draco Malfoy was staring at her. For once, he wasn't sneering. Instead --she realized with great effort-- he looked to be sympathizing with her. She was startled when she discovered she sympathized with him as well. He wasn't the brilliant potions student any more. Hermione snickered to herself and quickly realized that she had accidentally smiled at Malfoy. His grey eyes narrowed before his patented sneer curled on his lip and he turned away from her. Hermione blushed and busied herself by emptying her cauldron and gathering her book bag. When she dared to look up again, Malfoy had gone.
Serves him right she thought desperately to herself He was probably making fun of me anyway...
She pushed her way past Harry and Ron, muttering something about the library, and tried to ignore the idea that she cared what Malfoy thought. Clearly the fumes in the potions dungeon were doing funny things to her head. She made her way to the sanctuary of the library and plopped herself down at her favorite table, refusing to acknowledge the twinge of butterflies in her stomach when she thought of Malfoy's clear grey eyes...
Draco Malfoy did not stare. He was merely glancing over to the Gryffindor table to see if Potter, the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, had spontaneously combusted yet. It clearly had nothing to do with the fact that Hermione granger was sitting to his left, her hair pulled back into a pony tail off her face to reveal her high cheekbones and bow-shaped mouth. Nor did it have to do with her overly large brown eyes that were fringed with thick black lashes that kept darting curiously towards the Slytherin table...
No, Draco Malfoy did not stare.
He watched as she tucked a stray curl behind her adorable ears...
Adorable ears? What the hell was wrong with him! This was GRANGER he was thinking about. She wasn't worth his time, much less his thoughts. He was vaguely aware of a frilly high-pitched voice to his right and an arm snaking its way around his waist.
"What do you think, Draco?" Pansy Parkinson simpered in his ear, batting her lashes comically at him.
Crap. He hadn't been listening.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, mate?" Blaise's deep baritone was demanding from somewhere to his left. Malfoy blinked himself out of his reverie to glare over at Blaise.
"That none of your bloody business is it, Zabini?" he drawled coldly at his fellow Slytherin.
"Draco, love, are you alright?" this was Pansy again, annoyingly fake-concerned and pulling his face towards hers. He could see the glint in her eye and cut her off before she asked if he wanted her to "take him back to his room to rest".
"I'm off" was all he said.
"But Draco, darling, where are you going?" Pansy stuck out her bottom lip in an impressive pout.
Draco ignored her and stalked out of the great hall. There was clearly something wrong with him, but he didn't have the time to think about it now.
Hermione watched as Malfoy stormed out of the great hall. She been conscious of his attentions since potions class and had been startled many times this evening when she caught him staring at her from across the room. The thought sent chills up her spine. Whatever he was doing, he'd better stop. She wasn't the only one to notice either.
"What the hell is that wanker up to, staring at you all throughout dinner?" Ron commented as his eyes followed the progression of their nemesis out of the hall.
"I'm not sure, but it's making me nervous," she wasn't afraid to admit.
"Don't worry, Hermione," came Harry's reassuring voice, "I'm keeping a careful eye on him. I wish I knew what he was up to..." Harry's brilliant green eyes wandered back over the Marauder's map, which he now carried with him at all times, hidden in his robes.
Hermione caught Ron's rolling eyes as he turned back to his kippers. It had been their secret tradition ever since Harry had gone on his Malfoy-is-a-Death-Eater campaign. She would never have admitted it, but just this once, she was actually quite glad to have Harry's unnatural paranoia about the pale boy. He was definitely up to something and she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it.
Malfoy cursed himself silently as he slipped out of the Room of Requirement. He had told Crabbe to patrol the corridor for him, and of course, the git had wandered off again. The cupboard was not repairing the way he had hoped it could be done. He had hounded Montague and threatened him as much as he could, but the stupid prat said he couldn't remember much of anything from the time he was shoved in to the time he stepped out. Draco irritably marched down to the library to look up more repairing incantations. His mind had been constantly flickering to Granger the entire night and he prayed, for his own sake as much as hers that she wouldn't be there. A wry smile crossed his lips as he thought of the many ways he could torment her. One way in particular had his trousers tightening slightly inside his robes.
Merlin, but he needed to get laid.