Malfoy was staring at her, his gaze burning with hatred and passion. His golden, soft hair was shining, looking almost like a halo, painting him in an angelic light. Well, a fallen angel, in Harrie's opinion.
His grey orbs like molten silver seemed to stare right into Harrie's soul. He didn't like what he saw.
'Perfect Potter, the shining heroine, always taking her time to rescue baby kittens from trees and turning down beneficial friendships' he thought, still a bit sour about his friendship being rejected four years ago.
He then took a look at her entourage, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.
'How can she stand being around the Weasel? Had she even seen him eat like a caveman? Never mind, she eats just like him. But how can she associate herself with the Mudblood? She is such a bossy know it all not worth cleaning his shoes let alone being friends with his Potter. Wait...His Potter?' he wondered.
The Girl who lived was currently chatting with Ron when all of a sudden, Harrie burst into laughter, in a very unattractive manner, snorting inelegantly. But then again, she never cared about her self-image, and if anything, the laughter only made her more endearing. That was until milk spilled out of her nose, having almost choked. Hermione was patting her on the back and glaring at Ron.
Draco had to intervene. He went all the way to the Gryffindor table to talk to her.
"Alright there, Potty? For a second I almost thought you'd have choked to death and my birthday would have come early"
"For poncy gits like you, Malfoy, every day is their birthday," Harrie said while rolling her eyes.
Draco smirked, took a napkin from Hermione's plate, and started to gently wipe Harry's face from excess milk.
Ron started to shout "What the hell, Malfoy?" while Harrie was glaring at him, only stopping from hitting him like she normally does because Umbitch was looking their way and she didn't fancy a detention instead of Quidditch practice. Again.
"There, Potter. Now you look almost presentable again," he said.
"So glad you approve, Malfoy," Harrie answered snarkily.
The boy smirked then crouched down and said in her ear "You looked so yummy with milk running down your face, Potter. Perhaps I could interest you in a different kind of milk."
Harry blushed and whispered harshly, "In your dreams, Malfoy!"
Hermione was telling Ron not to curse Draco...yet.
"Malfoys always get what they want, Potter," he responded, winked, and went back to the Slytherin table. Harrie was angry.
'Who did Malfoy think he was? Sauntering to the Gryffindor table like he owned Hogwarts, mocking her accident of almost choking on almond milk and...making her blush? This couldn't be right.' Harrie thought.
She sneakily glanced in Malfoy's direction. He was laughing with Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini.
She supposed that Malfoy could be considered conventionally handsome, in a pretty boy sort of way, if he weren't a cruel, prejudiced, sadistic little daddy's boy.
And just what was Malfoy thinking, flirting with her? She bet his dick wasn't even that impressive, probably limp as a bonefish, a big, loaded, pretty, stupid bonefish.
'Stop thinking about his dick!' she told herself then went back to eating, ignoring Hermione's thinking face and Ron's concern.