Life rarely gives us what we want.
That's what Draco is thinking as he makes his way out of the Great Hall. She is sitting there. Sitting on the steps, crying over something the weasel said. Looking more vulnerable than he has ever seen her. He, like everyone else, had been utterly enchanted by her tonight. Unlike everyone else, he shouldn't be. He is a Malfoy and he is leagues above her. That's what his father would say at least. But as of late, he had a harder time believing that.
He doesn't want her. That's what he tells himself. He doesn't want to want her. But she is sitting right there. And his feet are moving before he even realizes it. She must not know that it is him taking a seat next her. She can't. She would never let him this close. Their arms brush as he leans back with his elbows resting on the step behind. She shivers.
No.
He imagines that. He tells himself that's what she would do in his head. He shakes his head to quickly get rid of that thought. If he keeps thinking of the things she does in his head, she'll never let him this close again. She tilts her head upward and lets out a sigh. Her eyes are a bit puffy but the tears are gone. She has to know it's him sitting beside her now. And she still hasn't moved.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she finally utters with a tone of resignation. Most of the time he likes that she only ever calls him by his last name. With everyone else, she is sweet and kind, respectful even. Not with him though. He gets the snarky, sarcastic, and mean Granger. Not that he doesn't deserve it. He started it after all. It probably says something about him that that's the version he likes most anyways. But at this moment, he hates the way his name comes out her mouth. It only reminds him of who he is and why he shouldn't be sitting on these steps with her. A small part of him, miniscule even, likes to think she says it so she remembers who he is too. So she can remember that he is the enemy, not something more. But he knows that's only wishful thinking because she says it now like she is anticipating the hit to come at any second. Like she just wants him to get on with it. So what, she can go back to crying over that pathetic git? And just like that, he is ready to play his favorite game.
"Lover's quarrel, Granger? Let me guess." he smirks at her before making a show of coming up with a quip. "Wealsey's finally tired of being your dirty little secret?" She quickly turns toward him, brows pulled into a deep frown. He can barely keep the smirk off his face as her legs brush against his. His gaze is stuck on her mouth as she begins to speak. He beats her to it. "No, I don't think so. His lot grasp at anything they can get. Give him an ounce of affection, and he wouldn't even let you near Krum." Her nose does that little scrunch thing that he likes. He doesn't even realize he is staring until the anger and indignation quickly shift to suspicion. He has got to start talking soon or she'll figure him out. She's quick like that. She might not realize he only taunts her, so she'll fight back. But she does know once she gets her digs in and storms off, he rarely follows her. She probably thinks it's because she has put him in his place. If she really knew what kept him from following, she'd think twice before engaging in his little game. "Maybe Weasel wanted Krum all to himself. You know I never would have thought him the type. But now his obsession with Scarhead makes sense." He tries to draw it out, make his words last. He hasn't got much in him tonight. She tore down his defenses when she came in looking like that. He was down to his foundation when he saw her crying. He had only seen that once before. A tear or two before the weasel had tried to hex him. But he wouldn't make her cry tonight, if anything the smirk and lifted brow she showed now looked as if she was about to laugh.
"Are you sure you're not talking about yourself, Malfoy?" He's ready to fire back, but she beats him to it. "Now that I think about it, you are always with Viktor in the Great Hall, the way you're always going at Harry sounds like obsession to me, and you are always asking me about Ron. Got something to share with the class, Malfoy?" She's grinning at him. She's teasing him. She's playing the game and better than him. He has to quickly whip his head away before she sees the smirk that could quickly turn to an actual smile. He scoffs to cover up the silence before she starts to believe this imaginary little world she's just created. He turns back with a scowl ready to throw more empty words at her. And it seems he turns just in time, because as soon as their eyes meet, she lets out a giggle. And it's not just one slip of the lip, it goes on and on. He is trying so hard not to smile.
He's never heard a sound quite like it. Definitely not from her. He can recall hearing her laugh from across the Great Hall and there was the occasional snicker in the back of a classroom. He lets it last a little bit longer, so he can file it away somewhere. He'll likely never hear it again. He wants to tease her right back. He wants to make her giggle all night long. He wants to look at her without having to scowl.
But he knows he can't. He knows life won't give him what he wants. It's just taunting him at this point. Showing him what he so desperately wants. But he knows who he is. And now he has to remind her.