Request - Hermione/Lucius at Hogwarts after War
Chapter One
She was excited and nervous all at once. With the war over and Voldemort finally destroyed permanently, they could all move on with their lives and start fresh. Harry had joined the Ministry working as head Auror, while Ron chased his dream of becoming a reporter for the Quidditch column of the Daily Prophet. They were all living their dreams, all except Hermione.
When the war ended, she tried approaching Headmistress McGonagall about a teaching position. She had always dreamed of going back to Hogwarts to help mold the young minds of the future, but after their first meeting, she quickly released that her dream would have to be postponed. As McGonagall had put it, Harry was granted his job with the Ministry because he had exceptional transferable experience. Meaning, defeating the worst dark wizard to taint the wizarding world had been education enough for him. Ron on the other hand gained his job from word of mouth. Apparently having a father who worked with the Ministry for years, and then a best friend head Auror, made landing the Daily Prophet job a breeze.
But when Hermione asked McGonagall for a teaching position, she was shot down. "I admire your ambitions, Miss Granger, but taking on the task of teaching when you yourself have not finished your schooling is irresponsible on my part and dishonest on yours. Suppose a student approaches you one day and informs you that he'd like to drop out of his classes and skip his exams. How, in good conscience can you tell that student to continue when you yourself have not yet completed your schooling?"
It was disappointing to say the least, but as she went back to the Burrow and told the Weasleys and Harry of what happened, they encouraged her to pursue her goals and to never give up on anything she wanted. They told her, just as Headmistress McGonagall had done, to return to Hogwarts for her final year and finish her education. Only then, would she be accepted as a Professor.
She was nervous as she sat on the train, without Harry and without Ron to keep her company. She was still anxious as she walked into the enormous old castle, freshly repaired and restored of the damage it had sustained during the last leg of the war. It was only when she saw a familiar face walking into the castle just a few paces ahead of her that she finally began to relax. "Neville! Hey, Neville!" She called out cheerfully.
His head whipped from side to side before looking behind him to see her. He slowed his pace, letting a few people pass him, and gave her a brief hug. "Hermione! What are you doing here? I was so worried that I wouldn't know anyone this year."
"That's silly. Everyone knows you. You helped defeat the Dark Lord. Without you, who knows what would have happened." Hermione explained, trying to soften his anxiety and push forward that confidence that she knew he must have gained during the last year of the war. "Professor McGonagall insists that I finish my classes and exams before she'll let me teach." She sounded annoyed, but the initial shock of the whole situation had already worn off weeks ago. Now, it was more or less just an annoyance.
Neville groaned right along with her. "Me too. I even tried to get Professor Sprout to give me a really good reference, but Professor McGonagall said that my grades were so poor during my final year that even if I had finished and done my exams, it wouldn't have been any use."
"That's ridiculous." Hermione shook her head in protest.
"I know, but that's okay. I didn't really enjoy my last year- no one did. So I'm glad to be back. I'll get the chance to sort of re-do it. Make it right this time, you know?" Neville shrugged. At least he was still optimistic. Hermione hadn't quite gotten to that stage yet, but as they entered the Great Hall and saw the floating sky ceiling, the incredibly long wooden tables, and heard the familiar chatter of excited students, she couldn't help but smile. "Look! Look!" Neville exclaimed, pointing at the Ravenclaw table just as someone stood up and began waving happily at them.
"Is that…?" Hermione began, equally as surprised.
"Yeah! It's Luna!" He seemed so happy as they quickly maneuvered their way through the crowd of students flooding into the hall, meeting her between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables. Hugs were exchanged all around and just as they were beginning to catch up, explaining what they had done after the war and over the past summer, another friendly face popped into view right beside Hermione.
"Dean!" She called out loudly, not expecting to see yet another old classmate. "What are you guys do-?" She began to ask both Luna and Dean but before she could even finish, they both answered in unison.
"McGonagall!" They all laughed and though it couldn't be heard, Hermione knew that each and every one of them let out a sigh of relief that they weren't the only ones having to return to Hogwarts for their final year.
"Silence! Silence please!" As if right on cue, a voice rang out throughout the crowd from the front of the room. Standing at the podium where they had always seen Professor Dumbledore, was the current Headmistress, Professor McGonagall. "If you can all find your seats. Quickly, please. We'd like to begin sorting." Hermione smiled and as she looked across the hall at the Ravencalw table, she saw that Luna couldn't hide her happiness either. Neville and Dean were quietly chatting beside her and as Professor McGonagall began to call the first years up to the front of the room, her eyes started to wander.
The four house tables were packed with cheery faces, most of them facing forwards to watch the sorting ceremony. 'They all look so little,' Hermione thought as she watched a few of the first years march up to the old rickety stool and sit beneath the even older talking hat. As the hat started to sort students into their appropriate houses, Hermione's eyes trailed just past them, up past McGonagall, and found her way up to the teacher's table. Hagrid spotted her immediately and waved quietly at her. She smiled and waved back, making a mental note to go visit him as soon as she got settled in. She continued to scan over the table. Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, and even Professor Trelawney, who Hermione wasn't quite as happy to see. Divinations had always been a sore spot for her, but she was glad to see the old witch had survived the war unlike so many others.
She moved further down the table, happy to see that so many of the former Professors had remained at Hogwarts. But the joy she felt was short lived. Her eyes shifted down one more seat and stopped. The long platinum blonde hair and crisp, brand new robes stuck out like a sore thumb as he tried to blend in with the rest of the witches and wizards up at the table. Hermione leaned sideways, jabbing Neville in the arm sharply. "What's he doing here?"
"Who?" Neville asked, rubbing at the now-sore spot on his arm as he tried to follow her gaze until he spotted who she was looking at. "Oh, Malfoy. I know, it's a joke, isn't it? I didn't think they were serious when I first heard he'd be teaching this year."
Hermione must have somehow missed that information when she was preparing for her year at the ancient school. "Teaching?" Hermione hissed. "Don't tell me. Defense against the Dark Arts?" Neville nodded silently and Hermione groaned. "This can't be happening. McGonagall couldn't have possibly agreed to this."
"Well, I don't suppose she had a choice really." Neville shrugged. "When the Malfoys were cleared of their charges, Draco and his father were ordered to perform community services. The Ministry must have thought with all of his experience with the dark arts, that he would be perfect for the job. I think the only reason Professor McGonagall agreed was because he'll only be here for a year. Once his year of service is over, I bet he'll run out of here as fast as he can."
Lucius Malfoy sat amongst the other professors, looking as bored as ever. His eyes glanced over at the children being sorted and every time a new Gryffindor was selected, no one could miss the overdramatic rolling of his eyes. It was obvious his preference was, of course, for his own house- Slytherin. With Snape gone and no one else quite as eager to take the reigns, Malfoy became head of the Slytherin house. It suited him well enough, or at least it stroked his ego enough to keep him content in his current position.
Growing tired enough of seeing countless students being sorted into Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, his eyes traveled down past the sorting hat and began roaming over the house tables. The students seemed just as bored as he was- the older ones at least. They had all seen the sorting many times before and although it was always nice to see which first years would be joining their own houses, the long line of students that still needed sorting meant a rather long ceremony. He spotted more than a few students peering up at him from their seats, perhaps wondering what an old death eater like him could possibly be doing at their pristine school. He smirked at the thought and cast his eyes down the Gryffindor table. Cheery faces and mischievous looks could be seen down the whole length and Lucius wondered just how many of them he would catch this year sneaking out of their dorms after dark. Surely there must have been at least a few obnoxious Potters mixed in amongst them.
He was just about to glance over at the Ravenclaw table to examine them with just as much scrutiny when a familiar face caught his eye. Long brown curls and wide eyes to match, the girl was staring at him. He searched his mind for her name. 'What did Draco always call her? Aside from mudblood, know-it-all, and a few other unsavory choices.' He thought, watching her as she blatantly watched his every move. 'Granger.' The name finally came to him, only to be interrupted by his own.
"Professor Malfoy," The Headmistress spoke from her podium. The sorting must have concluded as she was beginning her customary start of term speech. "Please, stand, if you will." She urged, waving upwards towards him until he got to his feet. "Professor Lucius Malfoy will be kind enough to spend the year with us as instructor in the defense against the dark arts. If you'll all please welcome him to our lovely school." She began to clap graciously, as she always was, but it became quickly evident that only the Slytherin table and a few unknowing first years joined in with her less than warm welcome. Unfazed by the unsuccessful introduction, Malfoy returned to his seat.
His eyes glanced back over the student tables, lingering on Gryffindor in particular. She was still watching him, despite Professor McGonagall moving on to announce the new Potions and Muggle Studies professors. Her eyes wouldn't leave him and if only to spite her, his wouldn't leave hers. His smoky grays met her chocolate browns and as they both held onto their silent stares while McGonagall dragged on, he couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a satisfied smirk. She was the first to lose her nerve then. The smile had done it, he was certain, but as the evening went on and dinner came and went, he couldn't help but find himself glancing over at her seat just to see if she happened to be watching him as well.
She was.
The following morning, classes began and it was as if she never left. The fresh smell of her new textbooks mixed with the old musty smell of the books she had borrowed from the library made her excited enough, but then there were her classes to look forward to. Potions and Charms went smoothly, as expected, and so did Herbology and Muggle Studies. Transfiguration was a bit odd, considering the headmistress had decided to also continue teaching her most favorite subject along with keeping her duties at running the school, but all in all, it had been a good day. With only one class remaining before she could escape to the library or the dormitories, Hermione was dragging her feet to Malfoy's class.
Ever since their silent exchange in the Great Hall, she couldn't seem to shake him from her mind. He had been staring at her, and sure, she was staring right back at him, but so was everyone else. Perhaps she had been looking at him longer than the rest of them, but they were still just as curious as she was. And yet he focused in on her, watching her as she ate her dinner and talked with her friends. But if she hadn't been doing the same to him, watching him off and on all night, then how else would she have known he was so fixed on her?
She brushed the thoughts from her mind. If she was going to make it out of his class with her sanity intact, she couldn't afford to put any extra thought into him, especially before the class even started. Making her way into the room, Hermione choose a seat and waited for the other students to finish filing in. Once all the seats were filled and the chatter began to die down, she saw him enter. His long blonde hair was pulled back and fastened neatly at the base of his skull with a rather masculine black ribbon. He didn't seem to acknowledge that the room was filled with students, not until he reached the front of the class. He spun around when he reached his desk and scanned over the room. Quicker than she had hoped, he spotted her, lingering on her slightly longer than necessary, before looking away to begin his introductions. "My name is Professor Malfoy and before we begin, I'd like to address a bit of gossip that I'm certain has been floating through these castle walls since you all arrived. Despite my current good standing within the community and my pledged allegiance with the Ministry, my past is still my past and that can not be changed." He paused and dragged in a heavy breath. "I was what was known at the time as a 'death eater,'" He brought his hands up to make little quotation marks in the air and continued. "I have experienced and witnessed many of the Dark Arts, some first hand and some not so closely. With this experience, the Ministry has agreed that this leaves me with a unique enough resume to allow me the privilege of teaching at one of the most highly esteemed schools of witchcraft and wizardry- Hogwarts."
Hermione had to control herself, nearly rolling her eyes with his last statement. During her previous years at Hogwarts, Draco claimed that his father considered pulling him out from under Dumbledore's schooling numerous times, attacking Hogwarts in particular for its less than adequate demographic profile. Not enough purebloods and far too many mixes and mutts for his taste, as Draco had so elegantly phrased it in the past. Hermione was surprised Lucius hadn't followed through and sent Draco to Drumstrang instead.
"Now that introductions are out of the way, does anyone have any questions?" Malfoy asked, cocking an eyebrow upwards sharply as he glanced around the room. His eyes fell on her again and Hermione felt herself squirm in her seat. As horrible as she had always thought of him over the years, there was something about those smoldering blue-gray eyes that made it hard to look away. "Anyone?" He repeated, eyes still fixed on the brainy brunette, expecting her hand to fly up high in the air like Draco had always told him she was known for doing. 'Little miss know-it-all doesn't have anything to say?' He thought, amused. 'What a shame.'
With both the ex-death eater and the young Order member still locked in what seemed to be an odd staring contest, neither of them expected it when a random student off to the left side of the room called out loudly, "Can we see the mark?" Malfoy broke their connection this time, glaring over at the tall, lanky Gryffindor who had asked the question. The student sitting next to him had jabbed him in the arm and was now scolding him under his breath for asking such a stupid question. Hermione could have sworn she heard the word 'death eater' somewhere within the whispers, though she wasn't sure where exactly it had come from. The rest of the class had begun speaking softly, whispering back and forth like a bunch of excited little first years.
"The Mark?" Malfoy asked, playing dumb with a knowing smirk plastered on his face. They knew that he knew, but he was messing with the poor boy, forcing him to say what he truly wanted. Hermione's brows creased as she watched the exchange. He was acting different than during the war. He didn't seem as wound up as he did back then. If she didn't know his past, his reputation within Voldemort's ranks, and what he was capable of, she could almost say he was behaving playfully with his students. It was surprising to say the least.
"Yeah!" The boy answered, pushing his friend off of him as he fully committed to his request. "The Dark Mark."
"Ah," the novice Professor exclaimed, nodding his head slowly as if the boy's request had finally become clear. "You mean, his mark." Malfoy replied and the student who had asked agreed with an eager nod, leaning closer to the front of the room in anticipation. A few other students in the back of the room did the same, while those in the front row sat stiff as boards. "I have to warn you, it's not in the best of shapes at the moment. You see, once the Dark Lord was defeated, his marks that were left behind began to change. Without his presence and his magic to keep the marks active, they begin to reject from the bodies they were attached to." He left the front of the room and started pacing slowly up and down the aisles between the desks. "Much like a cut that's left to heal on its own. It gets worse before it gets better, and this is the case with the Dark Marks, particularly older ones. The longer the Marks are present on the body, the deeper its roots are able to settle, which makes the rejection process all the harder."
He stopped talking and glanced around the room. No one was writing. Nearly none of the students even had parchment or quills out on their desks, let alone ready to use. He smirked and sarcastically stated, "Don't worry, I doubt the topic of Dark Mark rejection will be on your O.W.L.s." When he finished walking down the final row of desks and returned to the front of the room, his hand went to the sleeve of his other arm and began unbuttoning the cufflinks at his wrist. The students were getting anxious, he could tell. All but one, and although he would never admit it, it irked him that he couldn't get a rise out of her as easily as the others. His hand paused on the sleeve, stopping before he could undo the second button. "Miss Granger." His voice carried through the crowded classroom, echoing off the high ceilings until it reached her loud and clear. If he couldn't get her attention one way, he could always get it another. "Perhaps you could be so kind as to explain to the class the purpose of the Dark Mark."
Hermione looked around the room as all the students around her shifted in their seats to listen to her answer. She glared back at Malfoy, certain he had called on her in particular just to get under her skin, and it was working. Though momentarily flustered by his unexpected question, Hermione regained her composure and explained. "Along with being a sign of loyalty, it was also used as a form of communication. Voldemort could use it to summon his followers, but those who bore it on their arm could also use it as a means to signal Voldemort himself." As she spoke, he walked back up the aisles, listening to her answer until he was standing right beside her desk, peering down at her. "It was burned into the wearers forearm, like a muggle branding, but with very strong magic instead of a branding iron." She finished, staring up at him as he remained beside her.
Lucius smirked, pleased that she agreed to answer him. At first, he wasn't sure if she would, but she couldn't possibly risk her grades just to spite him, as badly as she wanted to. It just wasn't in her to refuse a shot at answering a question when she knew the answer. When she finished speaking, she thought he would turn and walk back to the front of the room like he had done before, but he lingered beside her for an extra few seconds. The curve of his lips as he looked her over made her squirm but it wasn't until she heard him praise her softly, just above a whisper, that she felt herself truly react. "Good girl," He mouthed down to her, holding her eyes with his for a moment longer before heading back up towards his desk. "Thank you, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor." He announced coolly and her classmates all gave proud outbursts of congratulations and triumphant grins at one another. Hermione, on the other hand, sat still as could be at her desk, trying to decide whether she had heard his hushed words correctly or if she had imagined it.
But why would she have imagined it? 'Sure, his eyes are gorgeous and his hair is everything mine could never be, but he's still Lucius Bloody Malfoy! Snap yourself out of it, Hermione girl! Maybe I'm tired. That's it. I just need to get some proper rest and then I'll get back to my senses.' Hermione gave herself the little pep talk that she was sure she needed. Fancying someone like Malfoy? Now that would be crazy!
The blonde Professor unbuttoned the final button of his sleeve's cuff and rolled the fabric up onto itself until his bare forearm was exposed for everyone to see. He wasn't exaggerating. The previously crisp, dark lines of the skull and snakes had somehow began to fade and blur. The skin looked angry red, like an infected wound, but they could still make out the general shape of the skull and the snakes intertwining throughout it. A few of the girls in the front row covered their mouths to silence their yelps of surprise and disgust, while the majority of the boys leaned in closer to examine his arm. "Does it hurt?" Someone called out from the right side of the room.
"Not anymore, though I need to keep an eye on it and make sure it doesn't become infected while it goes through the rejection process. Madame Pomfrey has been helpful enough to keep me well stocked with enough tonics and healing potions to keep an infection safely away for the time being. It helps with the itching as well." He answered, turning his arm slowly first to the left and then to the right so that everyone could easily see the full range of the Mark.
"What did it feel like before?" Another student asked, either too nervous or too scared to add any more details to her question than she did.
Lucius glanced at her and asked, "Before? Before the war ended?" The student nodded. Yes, that was much better phrasing than 'Before your bat-shit-crazy Dark Lord got killed by the Boy Who Lived!' Malfoy looked down at his disfigured arm. "It burned. That's the easiest way to explain the sensation. If I tried to ignore it, it would burn more, and more, until it felt like my arm was ablaze. It was specifically designed this way, to encourage followers to come as soon as possible when summoned. It was fairly effectively and incredibly hard to resist."
"Is it permanent?"
"What happens if it gets infected?"
"Have you ever tried removing it?"
The students began asking more and more questions as the atmosphere of the room softened and livened up. Nearly everyone in the room expected Malfoy to be a dreadful teacher, horribly cruel by nature, and expected him to criticize and mock any student who spoke out of turn or got an answer wrong. But to all their surprise, his class seemed to be the most exciting of the day. Although Transfiguration came in at a close second when Neville accidentally turned his textbook into a partially transfigured spider. The only spider bits that sprouted out of the heavy book were its eight long legs and its furry head, fit properly with large fangs that snapped at anyone who got too close. It ran a muck around the room for several minutes, terrorizing everyone it passed until a pair of students were able to corner it so that Professor McGonagall could transfigure it back to a harmless textbook.
"He's actually kind of fit, don't you think?" Hermione overheard a pair of girls behind her as Malfoy walked around to a few different students who had requested to touch the patch of rough, branded skin.
"Yeah, and those eyes!" The other girl agreed giddily. "I swear, I caught him looking at me for the longest time before class started." The girl confessed, earning an equally stupid giggle from her friend.
Hermione couldn't stomach to listen to any more of their ogling. 'And for the record, he was staring at me before class started…not you, you silly ditz.' Hermione thought quickly and before she could stop herself, she turned around and confronted the two schoolgirls. "I seriously doubt he was 'looking at you.'" Hermione repeated the girl's statement, rolling her eyes on the last few words. "He's married and has a son who's older than you. The last thing he wants is some underage witch."
Her words may have come out slightly harsher than she meant them to, but her emotions were growing wild for some reason. The girls looked offended, especially the one who had thought he was looking at her. She crossed her arms over her chest, resting them on the desk in front of her, and glowered back at Hermione. "How would you know? You've always got your head buried in books. You wouldn't know that guy was interested in you unless he wrote it down for you to read."
The pair of defensive schoolgirls giggled together again before the other one added, "Yeah, besides, he's not even married anymore. So that shows how much you know."
Hermione's brows pressed downwards together as the girl's words sank in. "What do you mean? Of course he's married. I've met his wife myself." She argued her point even further, ignoring the fact that her 'meeting' with Narcissa was actually only seeing her for a few minutes while Harry, Hermione, and Ron were being held captive in Malfoy Manor. But that was close enough for the sake of the argument.
The second girl shook her head with an obnoxiously stubborn look on her face. "She left him last year."
"No, I heard he left her." The first girl broke in, correcting her friend. They couldn't seem to decide who left who but Hermione had heard enough. Evidently, somehow, they had split up, ending their marriage, and now, as much as Hermione hated to admit, the two knuckleheads behind her were right. He was single.
Just as their conversation was coming to a close, Malfoy was making his way down their aisle, heading for their desks. His sleeve was still rolled up and as he passed each desk, the students ran a finger over his mark or poked at it nervously before pulling their hand back quickly, expecting Voldemort to somehow appear out of thin air right there in the classroom. He approached the two girls behind Hermione and offered his arm. "Ladies? Care for a feel?"
They giggled, as Hermione guessed they would, and both ran their fingers over the scarred skin. "It's so firm." One of them commented and Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at their pathetic swooning.
He must not have given them the reaction they were hoping for because Hermione heard one of them sigh quietly right before she saw him step up beside her desk. He lowered his arm, keeping his sleeve pulled up, and looked down at her. "I'm assuming you'd rather not participate?"
Hermione scowled at him and shook her head, but before he could leave her desk to walk back up to the front of the room, she stopped him, remarking, "And if you're trying not to get it infected, perhaps you shouldn't let so many people touch it. You never know where their hands have been." If she had been a crueler person, she might have turned around and shot the two girls a look as she said the last part, but she knew already that they could hear her and that was enough for the time being.
Lucius however, wasn't quite as controlled. He got her meaning immediately, glancing quickly behind her at the two girls, before smirking back at Hermione with a light chuckle. "Thank you for the advice, Miss Granger. The next time I need assistance with my mark, rest assured you'll be the first person I come to."
He walked back up to the front of the room and Hermione heard one of the girls behind her ask the other quietly, "What do you suppose he meant by that?"
"I don't know. Shut up. He's about to talk." Both girls fell silent and as Malfoy started to speak, the rest of the students quieted down as well.
"Well, I believe we've run out of time for today. Read chapters one through three in your text books for next time and be prepared to answer any questions about those sections. Class dismissed." The room erupted with the sound of chairs dragging against the floor and books and supplies being packed away into bags or tucked under arms. Hermione stood and collected her items off the desk slowly, letting the girls behind her leave their desks first so that she wouldn't have to listen to any more of their opinions about their new blonde professor while they all flooded out of the room. She was just about to head for the door when she heard her name called from the front of the room. "Miss Granger. I'd like you to stay behind for a moment."
Her breath hitched in her throat as she tried to imagine why he would single her out, again, for the umpteenth time since the school year had started. She hadn't done anything. In fact, she cooperated and answered his bloody question even though he knew there were bound to be other students in the room perfectly capable of answering it. But no, he had chosen her, and now as the room was empty and it was just him and her, she couldn't help but feel an uncomfortable flutter in her stomach. She approached the front of the room with her books in hand. "You wanted to see me, professor?" She asked, striking the last word with as much sarcasm as she could muster.
He caught her meaning and scowled. "Miss Granger, I understand that you may find the current situation awkward and uncomfortable, with me as your Professor and you as my student, but I'd like to hope that any previous feelings we had towards each other are in the past."
"Are they? Your feelings towards me- are those in the past?" She asked sharply. If by feelings he meant his unjustified, hate driven prejudice against her and her kind, then she would be nothing but willing to listen to his heartfelt apology, as unlikely as it was.
One of his eyes brows peaked upwards as he leaned back against the edge of his desk, examining her. "You're not a child anymore. You haven't been since the war ended, so don't pretend to be now by twisting my words around. That's not why I asked you to stay behind."
"Why did you then?" Hermione questioned. His metallic blue-grey eyes were piercing her, pinning her in place and no matter how much she wanted to squirm away, out of his view, she held her own just out of spite.
He paused, hesitating as she refused to look away from him. She was fiery, passionate, and as the years passed from the time she was last in Hogwarts up until now, that brilliant spark within her had ignited. Or perhaps it was him that brought it out in her. He couldn't tell for certain but he knew one thing. He liked it. His lips curled into as charming a smile as he could produce. "I wanted to clear the air and apologize. You've been glaring at me every time we're in the same room together and I have to admit, it's rather distracting."
"Distracting?" Hermione repeated loudly, shocked that he would accuse her of all people of such a thing. "I'm the distracting one? You haven't left me alone since school started! Don't think I didn't notice you staring at me all throughout the sorting and then dinner. And now today, calling on me in class and making me answer your question. Yet I'm the one distracting you?" She scoffed out a forced laugh as if to completely disregard his statement entirely.
Lucius took a less direct approach. "I assumed you enjoy answering questions in class. How was I to know that my class would be the single exception?"
"And the staring?" Hermione pressed him harder for an answer. He couldn't possibly have thought she would just let that part slip away, did he?
He shifted against the desk, finding the atmosphere less than comfortable as she drilled into him with her accusations, no matter how accurate they may have been. His eyes pulled at her, keeping her with him as he pushed himself up off the desk and took a step towards her. "I could ask the same of you, Miss Granger."
His body felt too close, to invading of her space, but when she tried to lift her legs to step backwards, they didn't respond as she wanted them to. Her stubbornness and her pride wouldn't let her step back, no matter that he was standing not even a full stride in front of her. She was going to leave, going to grab her books and march out of the classroom, until his brow cock upwards smugly and his notorious Malfoy smirk returned. "Am I wrong?" He asked, drawing his words out if only to keep her eyes on him for a moment longer.
The arrogance in his voice and the intensity in his stare was getting to her. She had to leave, as ungraceful as it was, but she needed to get out of the room so that she could start breathing properly again. "Ugh, you're absolutely ridiculous!" She groaned out quickly as she sidestepped out from between him and the students desk behind her. She needed air and with him so close to her, looking at her like that, breathing just wasn't an option.
She could have sworn she heard him chuckle as she brushed past him. "Don't forget, Miss Granger." He called out to her as she was leaving the room. "Chapters one through three by next class. You never know when another question might come your way." She kept walking, willing herself not to turn back around and give him what he wanted- even more attention than she had already given him. She had already given him of her time for one day.