Chapter Three
Draco left the Slytherin common room about five minutes after four o'clock the following afternoon. Granger and Parkinson could wait a few minutes, he decided. With a bit of luck, Hermione would've started the project already and it would all be over with before he knew it. But one thing was troubling him still. Why on earth had he grinned at Hermione Granger? It was incredibly uncharacteristic of him. but he hadn't done it on purpose, had he? It was some sort of subconscious reaction. but to what? It couldn't simply be out of habit; Draco Malfoy didn't smile often, at anyone. Smirk, maybe. But grin? No. Draco sighed and pushed the un-thought ideas out of his mind, turning instead to the prospect of the start of Quidditch practice later that afternoon. With a bit of luck, this year he would have the pleasure of kicking Potter's ass out on the field. Draco hummed to himself as he threw open the large double doors that lead to the library. Madame Pince scowled at him as he entered. Apparently his coming had disrupted the library's dull, dusty silence. He ignored the librarian's frown and sauntered back towards the Magical Law department they had agreed to meet in.
Sure enough, Hermione was there, scribbling madly with a quill. Pansy was watching her, apparently fascinated by someone who actually knew how to do schoolwork. The Slytherin girl looked up as Draco settled down in one of the hard wooden chairs at their table and beamed.
"Draco! I was worried about you! Where've you been?"
"Playing cards." Draco yawned. "Get any work done?"
Hermione's bushy-haired head shot up, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yes, as a matter of fact," she snapped. "No thanks to you, I might add. You're ten minutes late!"
Draco glanced up at the clock above Hermione's head. "Actually, I'm only nine minutes and forty-nine seconds late." He smirked. (Not a grin! he thought to himself, pleased.) "Ooh, burn, eh, Granger? Finally wrong about something?"
Hermione scowled and ignored his remark. "I need to find another book on Sentient Beast law in France," she said. "I'm comparing the results of the more liberal program in place there to the stricter one here."
Draco shrugged. "That's nice. Remind me again why I care?"
Hermione appeared ready to burst with exasperation. "Because its your grade, as well, even though I'm writing the whole damn essay!"
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Well, well, well, Miss Granger, I never knew you had it in you." Inside, he was quite surprised. He'd never heard the normally mild-mannered Gryffindor swear before. Hmm. He grinned. (NO! It was a smirk!) "I'm shocked!"
Pansy giggled.
"I don't have time for this, Draco. Since you've obviously nothing better to do, would you mind fetching me that book?"
"Oh, certainly. At your service," he responded caustically, and rose from the chair. Pansy sat there, looking dumb.
"Don't just sit there," whispered Hermione to her, apparently taking note of Madame Pince's angry stares as she lowered her voice, "go and help him."
Pansy rolled her eyes and stood up as if it was the most difficult thing she'd ever done in her life. Draco, meanwhile, was walking quickly, hoping that if he moved fast enough she might not be able to catch up with him. It was all in vain.
"My God," muttered Pansy, following him like a lost puppy, "I can't stand that girl!"
"I know the feeling," he replied, thinking of not only Hermione, but Pansy as well.
Pansy shook her head. "She's such a know-it-all. Filthy little mudblood thinks she's better than-"
"Be quiet for a minute, Pansy, I'm trying to find something."
"You mean you're actually going to do what she says? Ew, Draco-"
Draco ignored her and rummaged through the rows. He couldn't believe it himself, but a small part of him had just gained a tiny bit of respect for Hermione. The way she stood up to him and wouldn't take any of his shit. The way she snapped back at him and refused to back down- unlike a certain pug-nosed girl who was reminding him more and more of a dog everyday.
Shut up! She's not even a half-blood! She's Muggle-born! She shouldn't even be allowed to attend Hogwarts, let alone order you around! You come from one of the oldest lines in wizard history, and you want to taint yourself by hanging around that?
No. Of course he didn't.
Not at all.
Draco left the Slytherin common room about five minutes after four o'clock the following afternoon. Granger and Parkinson could wait a few minutes, he decided. With a bit of luck, Hermione would've started the project already and it would all be over with before he knew it. But one thing was troubling him still. Why on earth had he grinned at Hermione Granger? It was incredibly uncharacteristic of him. but he hadn't done it on purpose, had he? It was some sort of subconscious reaction. but to what? It couldn't simply be out of habit; Draco Malfoy didn't smile often, at anyone. Smirk, maybe. But grin? No. Draco sighed and pushed the un-thought ideas out of his mind, turning instead to the prospect of the start of Quidditch practice later that afternoon. With a bit of luck, this year he would have the pleasure of kicking Potter's ass out on the field. Draco hummed to himself as he threw open the large double doors that lead to the library. Madame Pince scowled at him as he entered. Apparently his coming had disrupted the library's dull, dusty silence. He ignored the librarian's frown and sauntered back towards the Magical Law department they had agreed to meet in.
Sure enough, Hermione was there, scribbling madly with a quill. Pansy was watching her, apparently fascinated by someone who actually knew how to do schoolwork. The Slytherin girl looked up as Draco settled down in one of the hard wooden chairs at their table and beamed.
"Draco! I was worried about you! Where've you been?"
"Playing cards." Draco yawned. "Get any work done?"
Hermione's bushy-haired head shot up, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yes, as a matter of fact," she snapped. "No thanks to you, I might add. You're ten minutes late!"
Draco glanced up at the clock above Hermione's head. "Actually, I'm only nine minutes and forty-nine seconds late." He smirked. (Not a grin! he thought to himself, pleased.) "Ooh, burn, eh, Granger? Finally wrong about something?"
Hermione scowled and ignored his remark. "I need to find another book on Sentient Beast law in France," she said. "I'm comparing the results of the more liberal program in place there to the stricter one here."
Draco shrugged. "That's nice. Remind me again why I care?"
Hermione appeared ready to burst with exasperation. "Because its your grade, as well, even though I'm writing the whole damn essay!"
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Well, well, well, Miss Granger, I never knew you had it in you." Inside, he was quite surprised. He'd never heard the normally mild-mannered Gryffindor swear before. Hmm. He grinned. (NO! It was a smirk!) "I'm shocked!"
Pansy giggled.
"I don't have time for this, Draco. Since you've obviously nothing better to do, would you mind fetching me that book?"
"Oh, certainly. At your service," he responded caustically, and rose from the chair. Pansy sat there, looking dumb.
"Don't just sit there," whispered Hermione to her, apparently taking note of Madame Pince's angry stares as she lowered her voice, "go and help him."
Pansy rolled her eyes and stood up as if it was the most difficult thing she'd ever done in her life. Draco, meanwhile, was walking quickly, hoping that if he moved fast enough she might not be able to catch up with him. It was all in vain.
"My God," muttered Pansy, following him like a lost puppy, "I can't stand that girl!"
"I know the feeling," he replied, thinking of not only Hermione, but Pansy as well.
Pansy shook her head. "She's such a know-it-all. Filthy little mudblood thinks she's better than-"
"Be quiet for a minute, Pansy, I'm trying to find something."
"You mean you're actually going to do what she says? Ew, Draco-"
Draco ignored her and rummaged through the rows. He couldn't believe it himself, but a small part of him had just gained a tiny bit of respect for Hermione. The way she stood up to him and wouldn't take any of his shit. The way she snapped back at him and refused to back down- unlike a certain pug-nosed girl who was reminding him more and more of a dog everyday.
Shut up! She's not even a half-blood! She's Muggle-born! She shouldn't even be allowed to attend Hogwarts, let alone order you around! You come from one of the oldest lines in wizard history, and you want to taint yourself by hanging around that?
No. Of course he didn't.
Not at all.