4. Quills
- the hollow central part of a feather
- a large, stiff feather from the wing or tail of a bird
- a pen that is made from a feather
She's convinced he's simply doing it to irritate her.
Draco Malfoy has been many things over the years - a coward, a bigot, a bastard, a piece of shite, an inbred moron, even a literal ferret but never has she considered him an actual eight year old.
Until now.
There's one long screeeeech, then silence, and then Ginny loses her cool. "Draco Malfoy, you put that quill down RIGHT. NOW."
He shrugs and casually tosses his quill - fucking designer and worth a thousand galleons or some shite like that, probably - over his shoulder, stepping away from the chalkboard in the front of the classroom before drawling, "Merlin, Red, no need to blow your top like that."
Ginny refuses to respond. She closes her eyes and all of it - her cramped little desk, the empty classroom after hours, evil ferret - disappears as she counts slowly to ten, exhaling all the while. She opens her eyes, significantly calmer (bless those anger management classes) only to see Malfoy wink at her.
"PRICK!"
She is about to launch herself across the classroom when the door creaks open and Professor McGonagall steps through with a disapproving frown and flashing eyes.
"Professors Weasley and Malfoy. It is after hours on the first day of school. Please refrain from further yelling vulgarities," here she peers at a beet-red Ginny over her spectacles, "until your first Defense class tomorrow."
