"Well, he did take it back," Ginny said as they walked up the changing staircases back to the Gryffindor dormitories.
Hermione scoffed. "I hardly call announcing to the whole class that 'You'd have to be insane if you think a Malfoy would ever sleep with someone like Granger' taking it back."
"Did you really expect anything different?" Ginny asked before muttering the password to the fat lady. The door swung open and they entered the Gryffindor common room.
"He's just so insufferable!" said Hermione, collapsing on the couch. "I can't believe I agreed to more detention with the prat!"
"So don't go," Ginny said, placing her books on the table in the center of the room. She sat in the chair beside the couch.
"I have to go, Ginny. It's a school rule. You can't skip detention."
Ginny snorted. "What?" Hermione demanded.
"It's just . . . " Ginny tried to contain her laughter. "I'm starting to think you like spending time with him."
"That's . . . " Hermione sat up straight and crossed her legs. "No. Definitely not."
"Then why haven't you gone to McGonagall? You know she would sort this all out," Ginny said.
"It's my problem," Hermione said. "I'll deal with it."
"Okay," said Ginny, smirking, "but if you don't stop saying 'Draco' in your sleep, I'm going to start pouring cold water on you."
"I do not!"
Ginny, still smirking, raised her eyebrows.
"Do I?"
Ginny started laughing, shaking her head.
"You're terrible!" Hermione said, throwing a pillow at her face. It hit Ginny directly in the nose, but didn't stop her from giggling.
"I'm leaving," Hermione said, standing up from the couch and walking to the door.
"Prince Charming calls!" Ginny yelled after her, to which she received an evil glare. Sometimes Hermione understood why Ron and Ginny fought all the time.
"How could she even think I enjoyed my time with him?" Hermione muttered as she walked toward the potions classroom. "He's insufferable, has an ego the size of the moon, and finds pleasure in other people's pain. Ginevra is being ridiculous." She huffed and threw open the door, revealing Draco standing mere feet from her. She jumped slightly at his unexpected closeness.
"Problem?" Draco drawled, and she could feel his warm breath on her face. She shivered
"Besides the fact that I'm currently spending detention with you?" Hermione asked, pushing by him. "No. Not at all." She looked around the room and found the desks oddly bare. "No cauldrons?" she asked. She knew for a fact that third years had brewed a particularly viscous potion just that morning. Cleaning them by hand would've taken at least three hours (on a good day).
"No." Draco turned, walked over to his desk, and sat down. "I took care of them." Confused, Hermione cautiously took a few steps toward him.
"So, then . . . what am I doing?"
Draco shrugged. "Just clean the blackboard. I don't care."
Obviously something was going on with him, but she knew well enough not to ask. Instead, she picked up an eraser and began erasing the words on the chalkboard. "What's your favorite color?" she asked, trying to make conversation and lighten his mood. Draco looked up at her question, but didn't reply. "Mine is purple."
"And you think I care why?" Draco said. Hermione sat down the eraser.
"Surely you have a favorite color," she said, ignoring his previous statement, "everyone does." Draco stared at her for a moment, but then resumed reading papers without an answer. "Okay, fine. How about if I guess correctly, you nod or whatever your equivalent to showing emotion is."
Draco glared at her, but said nothing.
"Green?"
No response.
"Black."
Silence.
"Oh, I know, Emerald!"
Glare.
"White?"
Draco glanced up at the clock that hung on the opposite wall. "You can leave now," he told her. Hermione sighed and began walking towards the door. She reached her hand out to turn the doorknob when Draco's voice stopped her.
"It's gray," he told her. "White is too pure, black is an absence of color, and colors are too blatantly obvious." He smirked and buried his head back in the stack of papers.
Hermione cocked her head to the side, smiled, and turned around. It wasn't an answer she was expecting; most people answered with a simple color, not an explanation. It was odd, really, because yesterday she would have found no point in the color gray. But now . . . it was beautiful, really—elegant, classy, yet soft and serene. Purple now seemed to beg for attention. She couldn't remember why she liked it.
Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. This wasn't logical. She stared at Draco, intensely grading a report of some kind, completely oblivious to the fact she was still there. Gray fit him, she decided.
Sorry it took so long to update. College has been crazy. Review please :)