Don't own the characters. J.K. Rowling does. Copyright - her.
"Hey, Granger." Draco Malfoy drawled. "Got any spare parchment?"
"Why?"
"Because I'm out; duh."
"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't." She smirked.
"Granger. I have the same damn Potions essay as you do, and I'm out of parchment. Just fucking give me some!"
"No."
"What?"
"I repeat: no." She lowered her head and continued to work on her essay.
He struggled to keep his cool as he asked, "May I ask why?"
She didn't even bother to raise her head as she said, "Because you haven't really given me the incentive."
"How about I hex you into next week? Is that enough incentive for you, you insufferable know-it-all?"
"What, I'm not a Mudblood anymore?" She struggled to keep from laughing, head still lowered towards her assignment.
He spluttered before being able to answer: "I could call you a Mudblood if you prefer."
She lifted her head and pretended to think for a moment before saying, "I'd rather you not."
"Then what bloody incentive do you require for people to borrow parchment from you?"
"Ask nicely."
"Oh." He thought for a moment. "Granger-"
"Hermione."
He took a deep breath. "Hermione," he ground out, "may I please borrow some parchment?"
Hermione smiled. "Sure." She reached into her Muggle-style backpack, fished out two scrolls, and held them towards him. "Will this do?"
He took them. "Perfect, Grang-Hermione."
She sat there, staring at him, as if waiting for him to say something. Then it clicked: "Oh, right. Thank you."
"You're welcome." She bent down to her work once again.
He looked at her thoughtfully for a few moments before asking, "D'you think I could perhaps, uh, sit here with, uh, you?"
"Why?"
"It's always much more pleasant to work on an assignment with people who actually know what they're doing, wouldn't you agree?"
"I certainly would. You're welcome to join me, Malfoy."
"Draco."
"Draco. You're welcome to join me, Draco."
He unceremoniously plopped his belongings in the seat closest to him and sat across the table from his new friend. Wait – friend?
She smiled at him again before turning once again to her own essay. This time, he smiled back.
Yes, his friend.
A/N: It seems that I have hit that dreaded entity: Writers' Block, and my arch-nemesis: end of semester school. I'll get Three Proposals done, I promise. :
Also, I need a beta.
