Chapter 17
"You're here again?"
"Hm?" Malfoy responded, not looking up from the book he'd been reading.
Hermione looked around her secret room. He had requisitioned an entire corner of it now. Apparently, he'd fixed one of the broken desks, too, because the one he was using was suspiciously whole.
"This is the third time this week I've found you in here!" she complained, knowing that she sounded petty.
Malfoy finally looked up at her, drawling, "And your point is…?"
"Malfoy," she huffed, "This is supposed to be my secret classroom! I'm meant to be able to study here whenever I want, and to come and go as I please!"
"Does it look like I'm stopping you?"
His words held no sting, but the smirk he wore was still supremely irritating.
"You're in my space!" she insisted. She knew he was trying to rile her up; she could see it in the way his grey eyes twinkled as she raised her voice. She just couldn't help herself, however. He had a way of knowing exactly what would get under her skin with startling accuracy.
"Your space, Granger?" He grinned like the cat who caught the canary.
Oh no…
"Tell me," he said in a tone that suggested he was just getting started, "When McGonagall set this room up for you, did she say it was your own personal study area?"
"Well, no, but-"
"I thought not, as she would have undoubtedly given you an actual functioning desk instead of a pile of broken wood. No, you said that she dedicated this as a travel room. A come-and-go room. A place for you to safely time travel without prying eyes."
"That was the general idea, but I still think-"
"And you, the ever-resourceful - and entirely overloaded - student, have repurposed this room to be your space, is that right?"
"Yes!" Hermione said, "It's my space, intended to help me time travel undetected. But I can't do that while you're here... detecting me!"
Malfoy snorted, clearly enjoying himself, "You're just sore that you no longer have a room in the castle all to yourself."
"I - you would be too! And you know what? I think this ought to count as-"
"I already used a favor to gain access to this room, remember?" Malfoy cut her off smugly.
Hermione felt her jaw drop.
How did he know what I was going to say?
"B-but that was for that one night. If you're going to use it all the time, then that should be another favor!"
Malfoy leaned back in his newly fixed desk chair, and Hermione caught sight of something else.
Is that a cushion?! Did he bring a cushion?!
He continued before she could comment on it, "I believe your phrasing was something along the lines of, 'If you want to use my classroom, that will cost you another favor.' You never specified a time limit. I paid for this space, fair and square."
The self-satisfied git had the nerve to put his hands behind his head.
Hermione gave a small, exasperated sort of screech before shouting, "Fine!"
She stormed over to the pile of desks and, with a familiar swish-and-flick motion, she levitated the remains of one down to the floor. It sagged pathetically under its own weight.
"Repairo!" she commanded, and the desk jolted upright, screwing one of its legs back on. It seemed surprisingly sturdy.
She pointed her wand at it again, casting a Scourgify, along with another clever little spell that she had read about recently. When she stepped back, the desk was a lovely shade of dark red.
It was almost perfect. She went back over to the pile of rubbish and plucked out a small plank of water-stained wood. She carefully laid it on the seat of her pretty red chair and tapped her wand on it, muttering the incantation she'd memorized from her Transfiguration text.
A moment later, her chair held a beautiful pillow embroidered with gold thread instead of an old piece of wood.
She turned pointedly to Malfoy, giving him a supremely puffed-up smile before sitting in her brand new desk.
He had been watching her out of the corner of his eye, and she saw him trying to hide his own smile behind his hand.
She primly pulled out her Arithmancy book, intent on ignoring him.
They read in silence.
After a minute or two, Hermione asked, "What are you reading, anyway?"
Malfoy looked up at her, face guarded again.
"Quidditch Through the Ages," he replied, too quickly.
Hermione craned her neck a bit, trying to get a good view of the cover.
Strange… It doesn't look at all like the copy I gave Harry first year…
That one had been green, and a bit smaller. The book Malfoy read was bound with very thick, dark brown leather.
Why would he lie about what he was reading? She'd already caught him reading a Muggle Studies book, which was odd enough. Was this book so much worse?
She took a breath in, preparing to call him out, but then something occurred to her.
If she pressed him on his lie, he would probably wriggle out of it somehow. She was continually frustrated by his skill in that area.
He's such a Slytherin.
But, then… maybe that's exactly what she herself needed in order to catch him. She could learn a thing or two about the indirect manner in which he approached things. After all, she prided herself on her ability to learn.
She looked over at him. He seemed consumed by the strange book he was reading. A small crease had formed between his brows, and his full lips were pursed slightly in thought. She again found herself thinking that he was actually quite handsome. Or rather, she corrected, he would be handsome. If he wasn't such a wanker all the time.
She turned her eyes back to Numerology and Grammatica, resolving to find out what she could, should an opportunity present itself. In the meantime, she was falling frighteningly behind in her studies. Her teachers were assigning more and more homework, and she had to work very hard to stay on top of it all. Very soon, she found herself lost in the flow of learning. Quill on parchment, the smell of her favourite ink, more and more of her texts open in front of her.
At one point, she'd had to pull her wand out and cast an Engorgio on her desk so that everything would fit properly.
A while later, Hermione was roused from her studies by a shuffle of motion from the corner.
Malfoy was getting up to leave.
She'd nearly forgotten he was there. He was certainly much quieter than Harry and Ron were when they were "studying".
"Leaving so soon?" she asked.
He raised a pale eyebrow at her.
"It's been two hours, Granger. Besides, I thought you'd be happy to have your room back?"
She looked out the window, rather startled that so much time had passed.
"Oh… right."
Malfoy shrugged, absently tucking a piece of parchment into the pages of Not-Quidditch-Through-the-Ages and shutting it firmly.
Hermione tried to subtly crane her neck so she could see the title of the book, but Malfoy's eyes snapped to her instantly.
He placed the brown leather book face down on his desk and began packing the rest of his things in his bag. After a moment, he paused to look at her. It was an almost piercing look that was entirely too disconcerting.
"Are you planning to skip dinner again, Granger?"
She gulped, then rushed out, "I have no idea what you're talking abo- wait, again?"
"Deny it all you want, but I think you're starting to crack. All this studying, it can't be good for you."
He gestured to her over-large desk laden with books and scrolls upon scrolls of scrawled notes.
"Excuse me? I'm more than capable of handling my studies, thank you!" Hermione snapped.
"Of course you are," he affirmed with a too-pleased smile, "And because you're so on top of things, you won't mind stopping for a bite to eat, now will you?"
She huffed, bristling at his tone.
"I don't need you of all people patronizing me, telling me how to take care of myself! And don't think I've been distracted by your poorly-disguised diversionary tactics, Draco Malfoy - you've been keeping tabs on me! Why? What does it matter to you if I miss dinner every now and again?"
Malfoy slipped the brown leather book into his desk.
"I'm not keeping tabs on you, Granger. Why should I? As you so politely pointed out, you're perfectly able to take care of yourself without my patronizing."
With that, he shouldered his bag and sauntered from the room, leaving Hermione confused and still a bit offended.
And if there was one thing Hermione disliked, it was being confused. But confused was what she tended to be around that blasted Slytherin.
Huffing again, Hermione replayed their conversation in her head.
He had pointed out that she missed dinner, then riled her up again - intentionally, of course - in order to… what? To mock her?
A month or two ago, she would have left it at that. Malfoy's favorite pastime was insulting those "beneath" him, after all.
But he had changed recently. His usual condescending mockery was absent, replaced with something… softer.
If his intention wasn't to debase her, he had to have some other motive for angering her on purpose like that... Or was he merely falling back into his old ways?
She quickly gathered her things, slinging her heavy bag onto her shoulder. She had made it all the way down the corridor when a thought hit her, and she replayed what she'd said moments ago:
Don't think I've been distracted by your poorly-disguised diversionary tactics, Draco Malfoy!
Diversionary tactics.
Of course.
Malfoy had seen her curiosity about his book, and he'd riled her up to redirect her attention. No wonder he'd been so smug - it had actually worked!
Hermione nearly growled.
But then another thought occurred to her.
Malfoy hadn't taken his "Quidditch" book with him.
He'd left it in her room, in his desk.
Making up her mind instantly, Hermione vowed to return to her classroom later and investigate.
After getting a bite to eat.
A/N – Hello from quarantine! Hoping to be able to write a bit more, as long as inspiration remains. It's a flighty thing, inspiration. Especially as an extrovert who's stuck inside…
Thanks to everyone who left me a review – I love hearing your thoughts. They help keep me going 3
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!
