My lovely beta was extra speedy, so here's an update earlier than planned to make up for the long wait between the last few =] Nice and long too!
Suggested listening is Walls by The Color Morale.
If there was one thing Draco knew with certainty, it's that lady luck was not a friend of his.
Many would disagree.
Privileged, intelligent, good-looking, and filthy rich. On the surface, Draco was a living representation of what the majority of people believed they wanted in life.
Many would think he was extremely lucky.
Draco disagreed.
There were many ways in which his life had been horrifyingly unlucky. Maybe once he had believed that prestige and infamy were an even trade for the warmth others seemed to have in their lives.
He knew better now.
Draco sat perched on a bench outside of the Headmistress's office, hands clasped between his knees and shoulders bent over his lap. One foot bounced anxiously, making his entire leg shake. It wasn't like him to outwardly show his nervousness. Despite his best efforts to keep things cool and calm by forcing thick snowflakes in his mindscape, his Occlumency ocean whipped and slammed. The snowflakes transformed into sheets of freezing rain that cut into the water's surface, feeding the cold dread inside of him.
He was mildly reassured that his mind was putting up so much of a fight, even if there were a few cracks in his technique. His emotions felt wild and rampantly out of hand.
Weak is what they were. Fragile, breakable. What he would do without his Occlumency, he hoped to never find out.
It seemed he was to be endlessly entrenched in heavy, sodden gloom.
Figuratively, as he'd been emotionally and mentally downtrodden the last year. Hell, two to three years.
And literally, because of the stormy ocean in his mind-space.
Draco had slept through most of Saturday and awoken Sunday morning to Pomfrey's no-nonsense expression as she passed her wand across his body to check that everything was as it should be. She had cleared him to leave, a satisfied smirk on her face as she handed him a cane to support his bad ankle: she'd wrapped it up so it would set, but did nothing to abate the consistent twinging to teach him a lesson.
The scowl that overpowered his features at the idea of walking with a cane, and exactly who he would embody if he did, must have spoken volumes to the healer. Pomfrey had seemed taken aback, peering at him curiously. With another wave of her wand, she'd Transfigured the cane into a pair of crutches and held them out to the wizard once more.
Grateful for her unspoken perceptiveness, Draco had taken the crutch without complaint and nodded to show his appreciation. He had quickly adjusted to walking with the crutches. He'd tested his weight on the injured foot and hissed when a jolt of pain shot up his calf. It could have been much worse and seemed to be manageable, even if the crutches did make him look foolish.
With one last guilty glance at the closed curtains of Callum's bed, he'd left.
Draco had limped his way back to the Eighth year dorm, grateful that everyone seemed to be at breakfast and he didn't have to face anyone yet. Upon arriving at his room, he'd opened the door to find two letters waiting for him.
One from his mother. The other from the Headmistress.
He still hadn't opened his mother's letter, opting for the immediately concerning official letter. It had instructed him very simply to make his way to McGonagall's office as soon as the letter was received. Draco had swallowed around a painfully dry throat and reinforced his Occlumency before making his way to the witch's office.
His crutches, resting against the bench at his side, rattled in time with his knee.
Draco scowled at the limb, willing it to still. It continued with its annoying bounce, unfazed.
What was taking McGonagall so long?
The blond's brain whirled with endless possibilities and paths that now lay before him. Expulsion? Azkaban? The Kiss? All of these options, which just days before had seemed blessedly out of the realm of possibility, now seemed viable. Draco clenched his fists, eyes narrowing at the ground in concentration to prevent himself from falling apart at the seams.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only ten minutes, the office door swung open. Minerva McGonagall stepped into the frame, managing to simultaneously appear frail and fierce. Her mouth was pulled in a firm, thin line, her expression tense. Though Draco knew he was taller than her, the Headmistress towered over him. In that moment, Draco felt well and truly cowed.
"Mr. Malfoy. Come in." Her tone was flat and thankfully lacking in fury. That fact alone allowed Draco to peel his body from the seat and his feet from the floor to make his way into her office. Begrudgingly, Draco sank into the chair across from her as the woman gracefully lowered herself.
Her intense stare bore into the crown of his head, but Draco stubbornly kept his granite eyes on the ground.
They sat in complete, suffocating silence. McGonagall was probably waiting to see if he would crack and spill everything. She, of course, would know better than to expect for that to work against most Slytherins. Self-preserving though they were, loyalty was scarce but ferocious when existing within the snakes.
It gave him a few extra seconds to gather his wits, at least. To firmly pull himself out of his sodden mindscape, which now crackled with bolts of panicked lightning.
When it was clear that Draco planned to remain resolutely silent, McGonagall reached under her desk and procured a few items. Out of his peripheral, he watched as, one by one, she placed them on the desk.
A clink of metal made his stomach spasm; Draco knew what she'd found.
Three empty bottles of Firewhisky, a few goblets, and Draco's silver flask.
Bloody fucking hell.
His initials were embossed on that flask, as if it wasn't already obvious whose property it was by the dragon engraving.
One terse word cut into the air between them. "Explain."
Stomach contracting again, Draco steeled himself and met the witch's stern gaze.
"That's all mine, Headmistress."
Minerva McGonagall actually rolled her eyes at him with a scoff. "Enough, Mr. Malfoy. Spare me the nonsense. I know how it is with you Slytherins. Although I fail to see how you sacrificing yourself to protect your friends benefits you, considering the conditions of your presence here this year."
Draco gulped, fingers twitching around the chair handles and blasted knee bouncing again. Was he cursed, fated to flop about like an undignified buffoon for the rest of his life? Unable to control his muscles and limbs before a woman he'd sneered at once upon a time?
The real question was whether this change of heart was due to personal growth and maturity, or his failure to be strong yet again.
"Let us not pretend that I am ignorant to how youths spend their free time. I expect to find out what happened at the Lake when Mr. Edevayne regains consciousness. Until then, I am under no illusions that I will be given a clear picture of the events that transpired Friday evening. You may be the only one who got caught, but I am certain you were not alone."
A loaded pause accompanied a tightening of the witch's eyes, and Draco forced himself to breathe through his nose and keep her gaze. His jaw clenched until he felt a muscle pulse.
"Seeing as you are unwisely determined to take the fall, I am personally going to see to your punishments. Mr. Edevayne's parents are going to be told that an incident occurred, but that we are still investigating the details. I hope you understand the severity of the consequences you could and should be facing right now."
McGonagall sighed wearily as her expression softened. "However, I see no benefit in condemning your future. If there had been a death or permanent injury, the decision would be out of my hands. This will be it, Mr. Malfoy. There will be no more chances after this, and I will not hesitate to turn you over to the Aurors if I think for one moment you are idiotic enough to behave this way again for the remainder of your probation. You've already nearly mucked it all up."
Draco gaped, unable to believe the things she was saying.
He… Wasn't getting expelled?
She didn't want to condemn him?
"Do I make myself clear?" Her piercing voice left no room for hesitation or argument. Draco nodded dumbly.
He was blown away. Shell-shocked and speechless at the willingness of yet another person to put any amount of undeserved faith in him.
"There will be consequences, and you will complete what is asked of you promptly and without complaint. You will help Mr. Filch in his school upkeep duties once a week, day and time to be determined. You will also aid in a tutoring program every Saturday."
"Every?!" The disbelieving exclamation slipped out before he could control it. Draco almost slapped his hand over his mouth. He didn't want to dig his hole any deeper or make the woman feel disrespected, especially seeing as she'd been unbelievably magnanimous, but the flare of indignation within him was undeniable.
He was to help Filch ? Clean ?!
McGonagall's mouth tightened, and her eyes drilled into him. "Yes. We will reassess that schedule after the holidays. And you must participate in the play this winter."
This time Draco didn't even try to keep his mouth shut. His jaw dropped, and his brow furrowed in disdain as he leaned forward in his seat. "The Muggle Studies play?! You can't be serious!"
It wasn't that he was opposed because it was a Muggle play. He was rather enjoying learning about Muggle culture this year. It was more that he was doing his damndest to lay low this year, and being in a production would not be conducive to that.
McGonagall gave him a look that was amazingly sterner, making it clear she was not about to entertain his whining. Draco almost flinched. "It's time to broaden your horizons, Mr. Malfoy. Spend some time with new people. Godric knows the choices you've made in that department thus far in life have not gotten you very far."
It was as if she'd dumped a bucket of ice water on his head.
If Draco wasn't so astounded that McGonagall had just bitch-slapped his pride while handing his figurative ass to him on a silver platter, he probably would have been enraged.
But as it stood, even though he was mildly offended, he still couldn't deny the bitter truth in her words. A glimmer of respect sparked to life within him. While brutal in her delivery, McGonagall was ruthlessly truthful and pragmatic, always with the goal of working toward the greater good.
Damn Gryffindors.
Draco swallowed thickly, curling his fingers into the material of his robes. His voice wasn't cooperating, as seemed to be a pattern, so he nodded silently.
Upon seeing he was neither going to explode in vexation nor argue about her terms, the Headmistress lifted her chin. But her features softened a bit, and she returned his nod. "I will inform you of the full details of your responsibilities shortly, once I gather where your time and effort will be most helpful."
Draco nodded once more in acknowledgment.
"You are dismissed. Do see that I don't regret this."
It was difficult, his pride stung, but she had done an incredible thing for him, so he forced the words out. "Thank you, Headmistress."
Draco awkwardly rose to his feet, steadying himself on the crutches, and headed towards the exit. His mind was caught in a whirlwind, only half-present when she called out.
"Oh, and Mr. Malfoy?"
He turned to face her; this woman that always struck a pang of fear in him. Even before the War, when House prejudices clouded his judgments, he could admit that McGonagall was an extraordinary witch who demanded respect. His spine straight as a rod with the expectation of more scolding, his eyes lifted to meet her surprisingly kind gaze.
"Don't ignore this opportunity. It could help you in many ways if you allow it to."
Unsure what to say to that, honestly a little touched that someone gave a shite but mostly unnerved, he gave her one last firm nod and saw himself out.
It seemed today he was a tad lucky.
Draco wasted no time returning to his room. He had no appetite, opting to sulk with a pot of tea all day instead of heading to lunch or outside to enjoy the sunshine, which peeked merrily through the windows.
At some point, Theo brought him a plate. Draco was grateful for his friend's thoughtfulness and picked at the food. He explained what happened with McGonagall while pouring the dark-haired man a cuppa.
After grimacing in sympathy for his assigned punishments, Theo whistled lowly. "You're one lucky son of a bitch, you know that? I thought for sure you were getting thrown out."
"As did I. Callum got really hurt, and McGonagall knew I wasn't about to give anything or anyone up," Draco replied with a shrug.
"You saved that kid's life, Draco." Theo's quiet tone was sobering, his eyes serious. Draco shook his head.
He didn't want to feel like a hero. He had no right to.
"None of it should have happened in the first place. All of that for what? So Blaise can feel like a king with his hands full of worshipful puppets on strings?" Draco's lip curled back in a disgusted sneer. "What was he playing at, not casting that charm?"
A shrug, then Theo slowly responded, "I'm not sure. I think he was wicked drunk and forgot."
Draco wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe his friends weren't capable of being that cruel. He could tell Theo wanted to believe that, too.
His stomach turned as a thought occurred: a few years ago, he would have been capable of such an act himself.
Rather than respond or voice his doubts, Draco grabbed the letter from his mother. It had sat unopened on the small table at which Draco and Theo currently sat.
Scanning the words hesitantly and expecting the tone to be admonishing, Draco was surprised when the contents seemed more concerned. Narcissa started the letter by asking what in Salazar's name he had been thinking. She then urged him once more to pull himself together and find a positive path forward before he destroyed his second and only chance at a new life. Finally, she begged him to talk to her about what was going on with him, inside of him. To let her know how she could help.
If he'd been shocked at the affectionate tone of her correspondence, he was sadly not surprised when she pleaded with him to write to his father.
As if that was going to happen.
With a sigh, the blond discarded the letter onto the table and scrubbed his long hand over his face.
What a bang-up job he'd done at making sure this was going to be even more of a challenging year than he'd originally believed.
The next few days blurred together. Draco had gotten a letter from McGonagall Monday morning, informing him that his first gig helping Filch was to be that Wednesday after classes. Apparently, the man cleaned the commonly unused classrooms on the weekdays and the main classrooms on the weekends when they were empty. Or whatever else needed cleaning that day if something arose. His first tutoring session was to be that Saturday. He would meet the group in the Charms classroom in the afternoon, tutor for a bit, and then have less than an hour to spare before dinner. And the first meeting for the Muggle Studies play was next week with mandatory attendance for anyone who wished to participate.
In his case, wished to was a loose term.
Grumbling, Draco made a face at the parchment but accepted his detentions. What could be done about it? The only thing that could potentially be a problem was the lingering pain in his foot, but he would just have to use magic to help as much as he could.
Wednesday came in the blink of an eye. It was an unseasonably warm day for the middle of September in Scotland. The pleasant air had a slight chill to the breeze as the best autumn days should. Draco sat outside enjoying the nice weather with his friends. The entire school had a free period before lunch on their Monday-Wednesday-Friday class rotation, as well as slightly shorter class lengths since their Tuesday and Thursday classes were longer to accommodate having them less frequently.
It seemed McGonagall intended for everyone to have room to breathe this year.
They were all half-arsed working on their Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment. Pansy and Daphne were giggling about something, books open in their laps but no attention being paid to the pages. Blaise and Theo were chatting animatedly about an upcoming professional Quidditch match. Draco was attempting to focus on his essay, seeing as his free time that night was being compromised.
It wasn't difficult to tune the others out, but he distracted himself by peering up and around the grounds every so often. It felt surreal, to be here. Surrounded by carefree teenagers, no evil overlord lurking and waiting to rise. Most people's biggest concerns were school or peer-related.
It felt rather nice.
A clap on the shoulder startled him out of his peaceful reverie.
"So how's the leg, mate?" Theo flashed a teasing grin his way.
"Just peachy. The crutches I've been carrying around are only for dramatic effect, didn't you realize?"
Everyone laughed, amused by his sarcasm.
"I can't believe you have to be a part of that Muggle play monstrosity!" Pansy declared, her lips twitching in distaste.
"And that you have to assist the help! " Daphne gasped her horror at the idea.
"At least he's not going back to Azkaban," Theo muttered. He shrugged when the girls gave him the evil eye, as if to say that didn't make their statements any less true.
"What did you tell McGonagall?" Blaise inquired, tone bored but eyes sharp and suspicious.
Smirking, Draco shifted his book to save his page with his finger before meeting his friend's dark eyes. "I told her the alcohol bottles she found were all mine and refused to admit to anything else. She lectured me on lying and Slytherin loyalty, then let her Gryffindor heart bleed all over to save the poor misguided boy who keeps getting mixed up with the wrong sort."
More laughter, which was what he wanted. Even though the words he spoke were true, the mocking tone in which he said them left him feeling a little guilty for talking about the woman this way.
After all, she'd been compassionate and generous to him.
His friends would never understand any of that, though. Would never understand why he would want kindness and understanding from an outsider.
"Imagine that! The tough old spinster, having a soft spot for the Slytherin bad boy!"
"Is she a spinster? Like properly?"
"I don't know for certain, but wouldn't you assume so?"
Draco tuned out again, silver eyes drifting over the fluffy clouds that filled the sky. The light from the sun illuminated the vast expanse around them.
Would his internal circumstances ever look like that? He couldn't help but feel like something was inherently wrong with him.
Even at this moment, feeling the best he had in weeks, his Occlumency ocean lapped over itself languidly, but the skies were dull grey and lacking any sunlight. Thick rain clouds scattered all around, responsible for the fine mist of precipitation that barely disturbed the water's surface.
Was it possible for him to be light? Free and happy? Or had the circumstances of his life never presented him with a reason to? It was impossible to tell.
Draco closed his eyes, turning his face up towards the sunbeams. The breeze whispered over his cheeks and through his hair. What a wonderful feeling, a simple moment he'd never have appreciated before the War.
At least he could feel that pleasant warmth on the outside.
Daphne's mocking snicker interrupted his mental wandering. "That Mudblood sure has style."
Eyes snapping open, Draco didn't have to scan the courtyard for long before they landed on her.
Chestnut curls bounced wildly in the air as Granger made her way to the castle, clearly coming from the Herbology greenhouses. Second class had been over for some time now, so she must have hung back for some reason. One arm clutched an overflowing bag to her side, as the other held a book she was engrossed in. The distinctive red hair of a Weasley trailed a bit ahead of her, the youngest of the brood deep in conversation with some 7th year Hufflepuff whose name Draco didn't know. They were going to walk right past the Slytherins.
Granger's foot caught on an uneven cobblestone. She righted herself quickly and carried on without shifting her eyes from the page.
Did she never pay attention to where she walked? This thought amused him, and Draco found himself actively fighting off a smile.
"What is that color? " Pansy shuddered, "And no respectable woman should be caught dead wearing a fuzzy jumper!"
"'Mudblood' and 'respectable' are not usually used together, Pans," Blaise answered, pulling more derisive laughter from the girls. "It's the bookish ones you have to look out for, they're always low-key freaks. Add the muddy blood into the equation and you've got that mess of a human being!"
A sinking feeling began to take place in Draco's middle. If he'd felt a certain way about McGonagall being painted harshly, his friends tearing down Granger left a sour taste in his mouth. It's not like he could jump to her defense; his friends would think he'd gone mad.
He kept his mouth shut.
The other girls were only a few feet away now, close enough to hear Pansy as she jeered. "Hey Granger, I just adore that jumper!"
Granger jolted at the sound of her name, amber orbs widening and rising to meet Pansy's. Instead of the bristling outburst the dark-haired girl had been trying to provoke, Granger peered down at herself and studied her bright tangerine jumper.
Draco thought that color rather suited her. Which was a strange thought to have, because that color shouldn't look good on anyone. It brought out the warm coppery undertones in both her mass of hair and her thick-lashed eyes. He found it impossible to miss this detail, which was also strange.
Why did he keep noticing these tiny details about her?
Granger gave them a blinding smile, accompanied by a saccharine, "Thank you!"
And then she shoved her nose back into her book, continuing to drift back towards the castle.
The Slytherins all looked at each other, shocked beyond words before they all burst into hysterical laughter, chortling about what a freak that girl was.
Draco found himself chuckling too, but not for the reasons the rest of them were. Who did that? Who looked at someone who was once your enemy, and thanked them for an disingenuous statement clearly meant to rile her and make fun?
As Granger and her friends trailed out of sight, the Slytherins resumed their previous conversations and activities. Draco reclined again, shaking his head to clear it of the lingering image of that smile . It hadn't even been directed at him, and still, it left him feeling uneasy.
He wanted to see it again.
Little did he know, he would. Four hours later.
Draco had been instructed to meet Filch by the entrance to the Great Hall. Upon arrival, he discovered his first task in assisting Filch was to mop the entire Great Hall.
By hand.
He was not allowed to do so by magic, and the grumpy old man had a delighted expression when he informed Draco of that fact. Filch had looked at his crutches, smiled cruelly, handed him a mop and bucket, and made his merry way back to wherever he spent his time.
Draco fought a bratty groan from escaping. At least he could hope to salvage some dignity in knowing that dinner wasn't served for another few hours. If he had any luck, there would not be many people inside.
Draco hadn't expected Granger to be in there, speaking to a small group. But there she was, chatting animatedly with a few younger years. There were a few people from higher years gathered as well, although no 8th years. She tugged some items from the bin by her feet, setting them up for display on a table.
Apparently, Granger was running an informative and interactive extracurricular group. To show students of any variety things from the Muggle world that she thought they would enjoy knowing about but wasn't to be covered in the updated Muggle Studies. Things that were small and technically unimportant, or weren't an obvious part of the culture so they'd be overlooked or dismissed by someone looking from the outside in.
She used the front of the 8th year table, no doubt so no one from any house felt singled or left out. Her voice echoed, clear and distinct as she babbled on about the things she was presenting. The students watched, enraptured, hanging onto her every word as their eyes sparkled in fascination.
Not that Draco was watching her.
He was trying his damndest not to, at least.
Mopping with only one crutch for balance wasn't all that difficult. Leaning most of his weight on his good ankle while keeping hold of one crutch was fine. He made his way through the hall bit by bit, the tips of his ears pink with embarrassment. Mostly, he felt resigned to his fate and just wanted to get the job done sooner rather than later. No one seemed to be watching him, anyway.
The vibrant orange of Granger's sweater stood out like a beacon in his peripheral vision. He couldn't help but notice it.
Notice her. And the little things that made her, her.
She talked animatedly, using her hands and enthusiastically moving around. When she explained an item, she handed it to the student closest to her to pass around the group. Her hair seemed to have its own will, which it impressed upon her. She didn't bother to tame it, letting it fly around her face and shoulders as she bounced about.
Granger pulled a model of something that looked to be made of small, ridged pieces plugged in together. It had a confusing amount of loops and tracks on it, and she explained that it was called a "roller coaster", which was something Muggles rode simply for the thrill and excitement. The model itself was made of a Muggle toy called 'Legos'.
Riding a cart at Gringotts wasn't so far off, she told them with a smirk to herself.
When they'd all had any questions answered, she showed them the next item. Draco was in the middle of the Hall by this point, unconsciously edging closer to get a good look at the item she held. Granger announced it was something called a "shuttle pen".
"What is a pen?" One of the kids asked.
Granger smiled patiently. "It's like a quill, but you don't have to ink it. It does run out of ink eventually, though, and needs to be replaced." She held up the item in her hand. "This shuttle pen, as you can see, has multiple color tabs on the top. You can push the tab that is the color of your choice down, and the pen will write in that shade!"
Many of the gathered gasped in amusement and eagerly reached to inspect the pen. Granger smiled wider and, with a wave of her wand, everyone in attendance had their own.
It got a bit ridiculous when she pulled out a white contraption bedecked with different colored knobs. It was a game that shouted rapid and unpredictable instructions which the player had to follow without messing up. If the player failed, the 'Bop It' restarted. Hilarity ensued when each person in attendance tried their hand, and feet, to various outcomes. After another wand flourish, everyone had their own of that, too.
Draco was now in the Great Hall's front corner near the teacher's table. He only half paid attention to his mopping, unable to tear his concentration from the group, which was less than ten feet away now.
Next, Granger told them all how she enjoyed making and using things for astronomy the Muggle way, as that's how she'd grown up doing it. She held something transparent but marked in spots up for inspection.
"This is a relatively simple device created with something Muggles invented called plastic wrap, which they use to cover leftover food. It has many other uses, too! This is made of something else invented called White Out. Since Muggles don't have magic, if there is a mistake while writing with ink they use this to cover it and start fresh. The last item used is a coat hanger to hold the shape. Does anyone know what this is?"
"It's a star frame."
Every head turned in his direction, and Draco found himself almost as shocked as they were to find he'd spoken out loud. He hadn't realized he'd stopped mopping and was just standing there leaning on the handle of the mop, observing until his mouth opened without his permission.
Granger turned to look at him. Draco met her eyes directly, unsure of her reaction. She gazed inquisitively at him, a sparkle in her eye, like he was a puzzle she was trying but failing to solve.
After a moment, she smiled at him. That brilliant smile he'd wished to see again just earlier that day.
Draco looked away so fast it almost made his head spin. He turned his back on Granger and her group of pupils, vigorously mopping the floor as he tried to keep his face from flaming.
Draco was a Black by blood. He had grown up thirsty for any knowledge of the endless sky and its wonders. A few modern books he'd read in book shops and the school library had mentioned various Muggle star-finding contraptions. Muggles had telescopes too. Not as advanced as magical ones, but they had them.
As the peals of delighted laughter died out, Granger turned back to her gathered guests. "That's correct, this is a star frame. It will help you locate stars and planets with your naked eye. I've enchanted mine to lock onto constellations even if I'm not looking for them in particular. In case you don't know what is available to be looked at."
Granger soon switched to a new topic, but Draco did not look at her anymore lest he continue to open his mouth uninvited.
He was so wrapped up in not paying attention to the witch that he didn't notice he had company until he heard a loud snicker beside him. "Merlin, Draco. Who'd have ever guessed the almighty Malfoy heir would be mopping the school floors?"
Not even attempting to resist the urge to roll his eyes, Draco turned to find Theo grinning at him with Blaise beside him. The darker boy was smiling as well, but there was something harder in it that Draco couldn't put his finger on.
"Shut it, Nott. What brings you two here?"
"Couldn't resist taking the piss out of you, of course!" Theo laughed in camaraderie. He was obviously trying to lighten Draco's mood. He'd probably thought the blond would be sulking around, glowering at anyone who crossed his path. Instead, Draco had found himself not even having much time to pout. He'd been too caught up with his curiosity.
About the items. Not the person showing them.
Blaise opened his mouth to add his two Knuts when his eyes landed on Granger and the group across the hall. Draco had put enough distance between them that he wouldn't foolishly speak out of hand again, but could still quietly listen to her words. Mischief, or something perhaps a bit meaner, shone in Blaise's obsidian stare as it locked on its target.
Granger was holding up and explaining something called a "Walkman", which was a portable music device. Blaise strode a few steps closer, careful not to get too close.
"Oi Granger! Why would anyone want to carry around something that would screech barbaric sounds into their ears all day?"
She didn't miss a beat, sharp eyes snapping up to the person attached to the antagonizing words. Granger's smile was condescendingly sweet. "Muggle music is certainly not barbaric. There is so much of it, and while some is a bit heavier than others, barbaric is a stretch. I'd expect better from you, Zabini. Besides, what could be more barbaric than your booming yowl blithering away?"
All of the younger students gathered around her made a low, impressed hum. One of them went so far as to make a sizzling sound as if to mimic the sound of a fire being put out.
Theo caught Draco's gaze, and both boys grinned at Blaise's scowl.
One shouldn't dish out what they weren't prepared to receive in turn, after all.
Whirling so that he couldn't see her anymore, Blaise curled a lip in Draco's direction. "How you've made it this far without tearing her to shreds is beyond me."
Unable to wipe the amused smirk from his face, Draco shrugged. "It was a joke. Just laugh it off as she did."
"I wasn't joking."
"Yeah, yeah we know you weren't. Can we get out of here now?" Theo asked.
"Can't. I have to finish," Draco explained. "You lot go, I'll catch up for dinner."
His fellow Slytherins groaned in protest, but accepted his words and made their way to the exit. Draco watched them go with an amused smirk, then turned his focus back to the task at hand.
As he started to shift to a new spot, inquisitive brown eyes locked on his once again. Draco paused, looking back at her from across the hall before her curious gaze dropped back to what she'd been doing.
Shrugging it off, Draco got back to work.
I swear, the angst is going to let up soon. And we've finally gotten to the beginning of more frequent interaction between Draco and Hermione. I'm excited to move into building the relationship. Tell me what you think so far! Thanks for reading =]