Well, here it is, kids. Chapter 4- and I dare say the one many of you have been waiting for? ;)
My reviewers, I love you all! And also those of you who have favourited/alerted. Don't be afraid to stop by and say hi before you go :) Bahaha.
Also, I wrote a new one-shot instead of doing schoolwork over the weekend! It's called Prudence, Draco/Hermione, and I can't lie, I quite like it. It's a little tension-y. Check it out if you've got a bit of time :)
Reviews = Motivation; the more writing I do the quicker you'll get the next one. Hope you enjoy!
Hermione woke early Sunday morning with a sudden start. She lay, eyes wide, her breath coming heavy, before sitting up. She ran a hand through her thick hair, trying to recall what she had dreamed of. Had it been a dream? She couldn't imagine what else might have woken her so quickly. The dorm was quiet; Parvati and Lavender were both still fast asleep.
The clock next to Hermione's head read 5:45 AM. She sighed, lying back down, attempting to fall back asleep.
After five minutes she found that her mind was far too restless now, and a bizarre sense of panic was running through her. She felt a steady throb in her temple, shutting her eyes tightly against the pain.
Determined to make the best of her early morning, Hermione stood up, gathered some Muggle attire and walked into the girls washroom to take a relaxing bath.
Her mind, however, was still rampant, trying to locate the source of her present unease. She eventually gave up, dressed and walked back into the dorm, to find that it had only been twenty minutes. Harry and Ron wouldn't be up until at least ten.
Midway through pulling her dried hair into a ponytail, Hermione was struck with an idea. Lavender and Parvati had ordered a hair product for Hermione at Christmas from their Wizarding catalogues designed to reduce frizz. Hermione had yet to try it out, and she figured now could be as good a time as any.
The fact that she was seeing Blaise later on was forced to the back of her mind.
After a half hour and several misguided attempts, her hair was mildly tamed, falling in curls rather than an uncontrolled bird's nest. It would've taken her hours to get it completely straight. Allowing herself further vanity, if only slight, Hermione applied the lightest amount of makeup to her eyes and cheeks.
She might as well look nice if she was going to bother at all.
Hermione drew a book from her trunk, leaning back against her headboard and began to read. Time seemed to trickle past, but it was eventually 7:30 and her stomach was starting to express its hunger.
Suddenly she set the book aside, wrote a quick note on a piece of parchment and folded it up. The sky outside of her window looked grey and gloomy so Hermione threw a hooded jumper over her shirt and grabbed her bookbag before leaving the dorm. She walked slowly to the Owlery, allowing herself this time for leisure.
She borrowed one of the school owls, giving it the letter and it flew off promptly. Hermione smiled, watching the owl fly away. She took the opportunity to give Hedwig an owl treat from the stores in the Owlery before walking down to the Great Hall.
There were very few students awake at this time of morning, only a few Ravenclaws, a pair of Hufflepuffs and surprisingly, one Slytherin.
She met the gaze of Draco Malfoy as she sat down, and his eyes narrowed at her in response. It wasn't as if she expected him to wave or anything.
She ate her breakfast in a quiet thoughtfulness, but somehow couldn't shake the ominous feeling lurking in her mind. It had diminished since she had woken up so randomly, but it was unmistakably still there.
It was nearly half past eight by the time Hermione finished her meal, and more students had started to enter in search of their own breakfast. As Neville sat down, attempting to start a conversation with Hermione, she quickly excused herself to the library. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to the boy, just that she would've rather been solitary for the time being.
Once she reached the back of the library, Hermione felt refreshed and took a seat at her usual table. She started the potions essay Snape had assigned in the last class, assuming she would need a lot of time to complete it. And once she began to focus, the dark feeling in her head vanished almost completely.
She heard a stir but ignored it, until she realized it was headed toward her area. Suddenly two stacks of galleons were placed in front of her heavily, and she looked up to see Malfoy, frowning at her.
"Your money," he said formally, but didn't walk away.
"This is too much," Hermione replied after a quick glance at the gold coins. "The quill was only ten galleons, Malfoy, this is at least double."
"Oops," he drawled lazily, making no move to reclaim the money. He instead walked away from her, taking a seat at the next table over.
"Don't you want it?" she asked, incredulous.
"It's too heavy to carry around," he enunciated, sounding highly aristocratic. "I suppose you can keep it." Hermione stared at him blankly for another moment before shaking her head, turning back to work on her paper.
"What are you doing here?" he hissed some minutes later, as if she was intruding in his personal space.
"Do I really need to explain it to you, Malfoy?" she asked, sighing heavily. "I'm writing an essay."
"No, why were you up so early?" He looked genuinely interested but Hermione swore it was a trick of the light.
"I couldn't sleep," she murmured, not wanting to explain her predicament to him.
"Uh huh," he muttered to himself, sounding unconvinced. "So you said to yourself, 'oh, I'm up early, obviously I should head directly to the library'."
"A little hypocritical, wouldn't you say, Malfoy? You were at breakfast before I was, and you also are now in the library," she reasoned, returning to her essay.
"I had to repay you, I knew you'd be here," he replied coldly.
"And you're still here, I've noticed," she added, deliberately intending to frustrate him.
"Get over yourself, Granger," he spat, glowering at her. "So I wanted to speak to you about something." This was not the answer she had been expecting so Hermione laid down her quill, turning to him with pursed lips, engaging him to continue. He sighed exaggeratedly. "About Blaise."
"I don't see why you're making a small crush so much of your business," she said absently.
"Granger, I know you think I'm a heartless Slytherin, and truthfully, that's what I'd like you to think. But when it comes to my friends, I do in fact care about their well-being. It became my business when I saw the two of you together." He sighed, dropping his voice.
"In case you haven't noticed, we're caught in the beginnings of a war, Granger," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "When it comes down to it, we're a bunch of bloody seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds. Whether or not we want to be involved, we're already involved. How much knowledge and experience do we seriously have against Death Eaters or Order members?"
"Harry's escaped Voldemort numerous times, Malfoy," Hermione defied him, her voice low as well. At the name Voldemort Malfoy's eyes had narrowed.
"No, Granger, Potter's pulled some spectacular escape strategies out of his arse," he countered. "It's going to take a lot more than some headstrong kid to defeat the Dark Lord."
"Malfoy, I know all this, and quite frankly, it has nothing to do with Blaise Zabini."
"God Granger, don't you get it? At this point in time it has everything to do with everyone. As much as we try to focus on school and NEWTs and our bloody futures, the truth of the matter is that this is our future, and there's going to be a hell of a lot of us who never make it through this war. Soon enough, choice will have nothing to do with it. And Blaise's blood will steer him towards our side more readily than yours." Hermione was silent, watching him distractedly, her mind heavy into overdrive.
"Granger," he whispered, drawing her attention back to him. "It's obvious you meant no harm at first. He's a good looking guy, I understand that. Plenty of girls notice him. And you wanted to help him get his Transfiguration, that's noble of you. Bloody Gryffindors." He shook his head.
"But things in Slytherin are different than up in that tower of yours. We aren't the good-hearted people you suspect we all are, deep down. We're Slytherins. And Blaise is a Slytherin for a reason, it wasn't a mistake. He's in the house of Slytherin because he showed the qualities of Salazar himself, and you need to realize that. Truthfully, Blaise could very likely be the most manipulative person I've ever met, even if his family doesn't emphasize the Dark Arts the way mine does."
"Malfoy, just stop it," she finally blurted, looking at him from the spot on her parchment she'd been watching blankly. "I get it, you want me to move on. I'm sorry to break it to you, all of what you've just said isn't exactly news to me. I do happen to have a knowledge of current events. But I must say, you aren't speaking to the only party involved. He's the one who asked me to work with him today."
Malfoy's eyes flashed dangerously. Clearly he hadn't been aware of this fact.
"I sent him an owl at breakfast," Hermione continued, and Malfoy appeared to lose his previous train of thought. He snorted rather ungracefully.
"Blaise wasn't at breakfast, he's probably still completely out of it. A tip, Granger, never try waking him up if he's bound to be hung over." His eyes danced with dark humour.
"What do you mean, he's hung over?" Hermione asked, interested.
"I mean when you saw him yesterday he was practically as sober as McGonagall. Should've seen him last night," Malfoy smirked.
"You went back to Hogsmeade after it was closed to students? Malfoy, you're Head Boy," she berated and he shrugged.
"Don't tell me even you wouldn't enjoy a night out without consequences Granger," he murmured quietly, striking a nerve and Hermione was silent.
"Anyway, that isn't the point," he went on, observing his notes. "The point is, he's improving in class, and there really isn't much point in keeping up this dangerous charade. If the two of you are too blind to see the truth, then I've got to be the one to show it to you." He sighed, as if he were exhausted.
"Is he really? I wasn't aware," she commented, taking this news in.
"Granger, you're missing the point entirely," he cried, exasperated. His voice was rising in volume. "Get it through your thick Muggle skull. God, I thought you were smart. I assumed you'd understand the importance of keeping your distance and you're completely oblivious, just because you're bloody obsessed with my best friend–" he was cut off by a loud clatter from the bookshelves.
The pair glanced up, thrown, unwilling to be seen together, to find the object of their discussion standing some metres away. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot and he had a mug of coffee clenched tightly in one hand, his bookbag over the other shoulder.
His dark eyes were wide in disbelief, his mouth slightly open. Malfoy swallowed deeply, trying to interest himself in his books once more.
Hermione however, was horror-struck but could not bring herself to look away. He had obviously overheard, especially if he had been standing there since the blond's last tirade. Blaise met her eyes, his brow furrowed anxiously.
He muttered something unintelligible from deep in his throat. Hermione suspected it was Italian. He downed the last of his coffee, running his free hand through his already tousled hair before turning and walking away from them.
Hermione, still wide-eyed with fright, turned to see Malfoy looking appropriately stunned, his jaw slightly open, before he carefully schooled his expression, looking as if nothing at all had happened.
Hermione wanted to scream at him, her heart was beating erratically out of her chest, her mind was in overhaul, and he was calmly working out an arithmancy problem.
"Malfoy, you lousy bastard," she hissed and he glanced up at her, appearing mildly annoyed.
"Fine, I'll talk to him," he said after a long pause before gathering his things and leaving.
Finding she could no longer concentrate, Hermione left the library as well, her brain reeling with anger, frustration and fear. Now that Blaise knew her real intentions he'd probably never imagine asking for her help again, let alone speak to her or look at her. Malfoy was right, as much as it pained her to admit; her and Blaise were far too different to ever be considered in the same thought.
She knew the idea would do nothing to convince her heart.
-
After that Sunday Hermione found herself feeling significantly lost. She could not dream of being able to focus and her favourite hobby of late– observing– was certainly out of the question.
Summer was fast approaching and the castle had been encompassed by the warm sun day and night, leaving the inhabitants of Hogwarts in a perpetual state of dizziness and cabin fever. Hermione spent more time than ever before alone on the shores of the lake, her mind wild with thoughts.
Providing a sharp contrast to the cheerful weather was the Daily Prophet, its front page proffering dark stories of tragic attacks and misadventures almost every morning. Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before something serious happened to someone she, Ron or Harry knew closely.
She had not spoken to Draco or Blaise since the library, and even if she had wanted to, she didn't suppose she could work up the nerve. They both seemed entirely unperturbed about the recurring events that screamed of Dark Magic, and to Hermione's own disappointment, she didn't feel very surprised at this fact.
On Wednesday of that week the Ministry of Magic had shown up unexpectedly, apparently against the wishes of McGonagall and examined the students, forcing them all to undergo searches for any form of Dark support.
Hermione could still see it.
Draco Malfoy had strode right to the front of the line, his grey eyes burning with ill-suppressed hatred. He stood in front of the ministry officials who were eyeing him with blatant dislike as well. With his head held high, he delicately rolled back his crisp white sleeves. Defiantly meeting the eyes of the entire school, he revealed his pale forearms, mercifully free of the Dark Mark.
When the inspecting official was appropriately flabbergasted, Draco rolled his sleeves back down, sent him one last glare of loathing and walked elegantly from the hall.
Hermione could have sworn he met her eyes as he walked past.
Harry and Ron had been furious. As far as they were concerned, Malfoy was running some sort of under-aged Death Eater cult within Hogwarts. The Ministry had come back empty handed, and even Hermione suspected something had been going on. She had been almost certain at least Crabbe and Goyle had the Mark already.
She shuddered to think of the dark magic that could fool even the Ministry of Magic.
That Thursday night Hermione had assumed Blaise would no longer be needing her assistance and she remained in the Gryffindor common room, trying to convince Ron that she wasn't being any quieter than usual.
They had at least accepted that she never had any sort of hidden Thursday night agenda.
All week when Hermione had classes with either Malfoy or Blaise she had been ignored entirely. Friday had been no different, and by the time she was free of classes, she was thoroughly tired of it. Opting not to eat dinner she went outside, settling herself cross-legged by the lake to watch the sunset.
It was starting to get dark and the stifling hot air gave way to cool winds. Despite herself Hermione remained outside, leaning back against a nearby tree, allowing her eyes to slide shut. Just as she felt herself drifting to sleep Hermione was jolted back awake by another presence.
"Mind if I join you?" She looked up, her breath catching in her throat as she saw her company. He was looming over her, still in his shirt and tie, dark curls falling in his eyes.
"Of course not," she replied, confused. She watched him take a seat next to her on the grass, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
"I've been meaning to talk to you all week," he stated, pursing his lips when Hermione scoffed. "I mean it; do you know how hard it is to find you away from Potter and Weasley?" She didn't answer, eliciting a smirk from Blaise.
"You found me," she murmured, picking at the grass in an attempt to avoid his gaze.
"I had to ask you personally," he took a deep breath, glancing over at her, "if Malfoy was telling the truth. About everything."
"I don't suppose there's much reason to lie," she said breezily, her face flushing in betrayal of her tone. "If 'everything' means what I'd presume it to be, then yes."
He stared at her, his mouth opened to speak before he shut it once more. He stood and took a few steps away from her toward the lake. Hermione felt her already weak stomach sink. Her mind was swimming in disappointment and shame.
Blaise had his back to her, his hands in his pockets. It took Hermione a moment to realize he was watching the sun go down over the lake.
"Timeless, isn't it?" he murmured quietly, though Hermione heard him.
"Yes," she replied after a pause.
"Granger," his voice seemed far away. What he said next threw her off entirely. "Would you say I can trust you?"
"I hope so," she said quietly, blinking. He appraised her for a moment before nodding. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet before shoving his hands in his pockets once more.
"Come for a walk with me," he murmured, walking towards the Quidditch pitch. After a moment Hermione followed, catching up to him. His eyes had a very distant look about them. He was silent for a long while before he sighed.
"Granger," he began carefully, "there are things in my life that complicate everything far beyond necessity. As I'm sure the same goes for you. And as much as we may try to avoid it, it all comes down to this war."
Hermione took a deep breath. So he was trying to let her down easy. Malfoy had been right; Blaise was much more prone to join the dark side than her own.
"Now, Malfoy's been trying to talk me out of speaking to you all week." He stopped walking, looking over at her.
"So what are you doing here?" she asked darkly, avoiding his eyes.
"I asked myself that same thing," he continued walking. It was getting windier out, his dark hair was blowing in his eyes. "All week I've been trying to convince myself that it's a bad idea. Obviously I failed since I'm here now." The corners of his lips tilted into a smirk.
"It would appear so," Hermione joked, trying to ease her nerves.
"Yeah," he murmured. "Every time I thought about it, I found infinite reasons to stay away from you. You're a Gryffindor, you're in the Order, you're best friends with Harry sodding Potter. But then when you didn't show up on Thursday I couldn't stop myself from being disappointed about it."
"Really?" she asked, shocked. "I assumed you wouldn't need my help anymore, after what Malfoy said." She drifted off and he shook his head.
"Can I tell you something? You have to promise you won't be upset," he said, leaning close to her ear. She fought back a shiver, meeting his dark eyes glinting with mischief.
"I suppose so, yes," she said quietly.
"I have my suspicions that Draco greatly exaggerated my transfiguration inadequacies when he first spoke to you." Hermione looked nervously at Blaise, wondering what he meant. "A lot of the stuff you taught me I already knew, and I've actually received O's on the last two assignments."
Her mouth fell open in shock.
"You mean you allowed me to go on and make a fool of myself for no reason?" Her voice was oddly high pitched.
"It wasn't for no reason," he continued in a low voice. "I wouldn't have been able to spend time with you otherwise."
"Oh." Hermione froze, lost for words. Her insides were heating up and she felt uncomfortable next to him. Suddenly what he'd just said hit her and she couldn't stop a smile from rising to her features. "So you wanted to see me." He watched her for a moment before smirking.
"I wanted to do more than see you," he murmured, his eyes smoky as they met hers. Once more she found herself unable to speak in retaliation for a moment, and she sat down in the middle of the pitch, looking up at the sky.
"And so you ignored me all week, leaving me to believe you absolutely loathed me and couldn't stand the thought of me." Her smile betrayed her words.
"Hey, I told you I had a lot to think about," he reminded her. "It's not every day you find yourself interested in Hermione Granger." He sat next to her, laying back on the grass.
"That's fair enough, I suppose," she mused. "But what did you determine during your period of contemplation?" She laid down, finding herself compelled to watch the stars. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned to look back at him.
"I can't lie, I haven't been able to answer that myself yet," he commented, looking away. "If there were no other factors it would be simple. But there's a limit where personal happiness meets reason." Hermione stayed silent, hating to admit she agreed. There was no likely way they could be openly together.
"If a mere friendship was an acceptable alternative, I'm sure we'd both still want more," he went on, his voice dropping.
"Blaise," Hermione broke the silence. "School is nearly over. No one needs to know, do they? Everyone's so distracted with school work they'd hardly notice anything."
"You think?" he asked, glancing over.
"It could work, couldn't it? I mean, I'd hate to give something up because it might fail or possibly not work out. And then, after Hogwarts... who knows?"
"I wish we didn't have to worry about this," he said after a moment. "It's nearly impossible to tell where school rivalries become serious business these days."
"I agree," she nodded, giving him a sad smile.
"You know I'm not a Death Eater right?" he asked, suddenly sounding anxious. She nodded, laughing softly.
"Apparently no one in the entire school is," she commented, remembering the past Wednesday. Blaise caught on, smirking.
"Right, that." He said nothing more and Hermione didn't particularly feel like pushing him on it. Not when he was so close to her and so open with her. He noticed her staring once more at the stars and leaned closer, pointing at one particular constellation.
"That's Draco," he said, connecting the stars. Hermione laughed. "He used to believe the constellation was named after him."
"You're kidding," she replied, unable to quit laughing.
"No," Blaise said, grinning wickedly. Hermione was thrown off by how attractive he really was and the fact that he was close enough to breathe in her ear. "And he used to always–" he cut himself off, the smile dropping in an instant. "He was just a lot different when he was younger is all."
Hermione suddenly felt bad for him. It would be difficult to have a best friend like Draco Malfoy; she couldn't imagine how strict his life probably was. She realized she could see the impact of war blatantly on the strong-willed blond.
"Do you suppose you'll tell Malfoy?" she asked, intending to change the subject.
"He'll get it out of me," Blaise admitted. "It would be best to just tell him. What about Potter and Weasley?"
"They wouldn't notice anything different," she said, finding it painfully true. Although they might suspect something, they'd never catch on. "That reminds me, Lavender Brown saw you and I at Hogsmeade last week and to keep her quiet I said I'd get Draco to go out with her." She looked at him hopefully.
"You didn't," Blaise said, looking at her quickly.
"Afraid so," she replied, worried that she'd done something horribly wrong.
"That's brilliant," he continued, laughing. "Is she the blonde one in our year?" At Hermione's nod of confirmation he grinned. "He'll be more than fine with that." She let out a sigh of relief.
Blaise lifted his wrist to read his watch, his expression unreadable. Hermione tilted her head to look but he set his arm back down before she could see the time.
"Is it late?" she asked, trying to calculate how long she'd been outside.
"Depends on what you think of as late," he said cryptically, obviously not about to tell her the time. "Are you tired?"
There was something taunting in his tone that made her shake her head defiantly.
"Good," he said softly. "First one to go inside or fall asleep owes the other an essay."
"That isn't a fair challenge," Hermione retorted.
"Afraid you'll lose?" he teased, looking perfectly awake. Hermione fought back a yawn.
"Of course I won't lose, Blaise. There's such a thing as curfew, and I have to do patrols." She rolled her eyes at him.
"You've already missed curfew, and forget patrols for once." His easy grin made her settle down once more, now determined to stay awake later than him. She narrowed her eyes.
"Two essays, and the loser has to drop a dungbomb in Snape's classroom."
"Deal," he grinned, shaking her hand. "Granger, I sincerely hope you don't get detention through the rest of seventh when he finds out it was you."
"Likely, Zabini," she hissed, pushing him. He glared mockingly and Hermione quickly stood and ran away from him, fearing retribution. He sat up, watching her with humour. Shaking his head at her display of immaturity, he stood and watched her closely for a minute.
Trying to distance herself from him, Hermione had run to the far end of the Quidditch pitch, her face flushed and breathing irregular.
She hadn't been quite prepared for him to be such an athlete, so when he took off after her Hermione was surprised. She ducked under the bleachers, running towards the other end once more, aware that he was quickly catching up to her.
Unwilling to surrender however, she kept running away from him, laughing loudly. As soon as she was back into the open field his longer legs proved to be successful. He grabbed her hand, spinning her around to meet his eyes.
"You'll have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me," his voice was low and husky, he grinned lopsidedly at her, wrapping the other arm around her back.
Hermione barely had a chance to register that his eyes were sparkling in the moonlight before his lips met hers and her mind exploded with the sensation.
His lips were warm and soft, pressed firmly to hers. Her eyes fell shut and she kissed back, losing herself in him. His tongue probed her lips, they quickly parted and Hermione found her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her hands buried deep in his thick hair.
She was so overwhelmed by his spontaneous action that every touch, every stroke of his tongue on hers sent her reeling with ecstatic fulfillment, and she could do nothing more than fall to the magic he was working on her. She was suspended somewhere between disbelief and cataclysmic euphoria, and so when he pulled away, his eyes still tightly shut Hermione couldn't help but kiss him again.
After she'd released him, biting her lower lip out of nerves, he rested his forehead against hers. He uttered something in Italian and Hermione felt over-joyed to have that sort of effect on him. She ruffled his hair a final time before taking off once more, leaving him open-mouthed and cursing her.
-
Hermione awoke the next morning to the sun high in the sky. At first she stared straight ahead, wondering what she was doing outside. She looked over and nearly jumped in shock.
Blaise was sprawled out on his stomach next to her, one arm tossed over her, his face barely two inches from hers. Hermione smiled, feeling a strong urge to laugh. He had a severe case of bedhead and his uniform shirt was wrinkled.
She leaned in close to his ear, whispering "wake up!" His eyes blinked open, looking around insecurely. He saw her and calmed down, smiling wryly at her.
"Good morning," he murmured, his Italian accent thicker than usual through sleep.
"What time is it?" she asked, reaching for his watch hand which he pulled away.
"Time for you to start writing I'd say," he said, standing up and brushing himself off.
"What do you mean? It's Saturday, Blaise," she teased, following suit.
"I mean you fell asleep first, you owe me two essays. I suppose I'll get you to write charms and history of magic for me, and the first potions class of next week should be just fine. I'll even supply you the dungbomb," he listed off, ignoring Hermione's look of astonishment.
"I'm not actually writing your essays, you realize," she stated, glaring at him coolly.
"We shook on it," he stated, his eyes full of trouble. "You were the one that upped the stakes as well. I would have been fine with you writing only one essay for me." He shrugged.
"Hey, what's saying I fell asleep first? I was the one who woke you up, how do you know I wasn't awake all night?" She hadn't intended to take the deal so seriously.
"Firstly, I saw you fall asleep, before I did, and secondly, you've been drooling in your sleep," he smirked, self-satisfied and Hermione lifted a hand to cover her mouth in horror. "Don't worry about it, it's cute." He walked off, leaving Hermione speechless and defeated.
"Well, your hair is a complete mess," she threw back at him, hurrying to catch up. He stopped walking, turning to look at her. He blatantly eyed her own wild mass of curls with a raised eyebrow.
"Touche, Granger." He offered her one last heart-melting grin before he opened the door, allowing her to go ahead of him and followed shortly after, taking a different hallway down to Slytherin.
Hermione watched him go and bit her lip, wanting to jump and scream and laugh and tell the world. Instead she walked quietly to the Great Hall and took a seat at the Gryffindor table next to Lavender. The food on the plates indicated noon.
The blonde winked at her inconspicuously and Hermione flushed pink, giving the other girl an apologetic smile.
Even the suspicious glances of Draco Malfoy across the hall couldn't destroy her spirit.