Disclaimer: Everything except the (rather thin) plot belongs to JKR, et al.
Note: Another attempt at that strange art form called the vignette. These are so much easier than long chapters…but, yes, work on W&K continues.
"Well, brat," Draco Malfoy was saying as he looked over the red-haired girl's shoulder. "What didn't you understand in herbology today?"
Ginny Weasley sighed and flipped her heavy braid over her shoulder. Her herbology notes and text were spread out in front of her, but the scroll she'd been trying to do her homework on was glaringly blank.
"How about everything," she snapped, glancing up at the tall blond Slytherin currently leaning over her chair. "How do you understand it so well, Malfoy? It doesn't make sense!"
Smirking, Draco pulled out the chair beside her and sat. "You know the answer to that already, brat," he said smoothly. "I'm amazingly smart and outstanding at everything I do. Dragging her notes over, he looked at them with an expression of disgust. "How do you read this stuff? No wonder you don't understand it; you can't even read your own handwriting!"
Ginny glared at him and tugged the notes back. "I can read them just fine," she retorted. "I just don't understand what Sprout's trying to say. And stop calling me 'brat'."
Draco grinned at her and said, "Well, then, brat, read them to me and I'll see if I can explain."
Ginny couldn't help grinning back. Since the little joke they'd played on Pansy Parkinson a few weeks back, Ginny and Draco had both been up in the library most evenings after classes. They weren't really meeting, since they sometimes completely ignored the other. But sometimes he would come over and mock or tease or talk to her. And since discovering her toiling over her herbology homework last week, he'd made her go over the stuff with him.
He'd begun calling her 'brat' very soon after the 'Pansy' incident, telling her that that was what she had behaved like. Ginny really didn't mind, though. It certainly beat being called by her last name all the time. For her part, she stuck with 'Malfoy', uttered in that tone that only Gryffindors seemed to be able to master; one part contempt, one part resignation, and a good deal of scorn. He accepted it with surprising good humor, and, for this particular Slytherin and Gryffindor, there seemed to be a truce in place.
Now Ginny glanced at the good-looking boy beside her and sighed. He loved acting superior, but he really was good in herbology, and could usually explain everything to her so she understood the how's and why's. He didn't have to look so bloody smug about it, though, did he?
With a little shrug of resignation, Ginny pointed to what was perplexing her at the moment.
"All right, I understand that foxglove is a poison, especially the greens. But if it's poison, why do we use it in so many antidotes and medicines? I mean, you use it to counteract several disabling potions, and it's used for people with heart problems, so I just don't get it."
Draco thought about it for a minute, then smiled.
"Right, then. Remember when your mum sent you that fudge last year for Christmas?"
Ginny scowled. She remembered. The git sitting next to her right now had snatched it from her when she'd brought it with her to breakfast last year, and wouldn't give it back. He'd been the most complete prat about it, even though Ginny was sure he'd promptly chucked the lot in the dustbin as soon as he got back to Slytherin.
"Yes," she growled, truly angry with him for the first time in weeks.
"Hey, don't take my head off. It was fudge, and you should have known better than to bring it out. Anyway, your mum's fudge is probably the best I've every tasted."
"You mean you actually ate it?"
"Of course! What did you think I did with it?"
Ginny looked away guiltily. "I thought you probably threw it in the dustbin.
"I would never waste good fudge like that," he chided. "But, back to what I was saying. The fudge was great, but I ate all of it at once. I can't remember being that sick in my life! So, in a small portion, it's like heaven. But too much, and it's like poison. Just like the foxglove. When you break it down and get the medicinal parts out, just the tiniest portions, it's all good. But too much and it's poison. Right?"
Ginny frowned. When he said it like that it made perfect sense. Why hadn't she been able to make that connection herself?
"You know, your face will get stuck like that if you keep it up, brat," Draco remarked, watching her.
"So, what do you care? You'd just have something else to snipe about, wouldn't you?" she returned.
"Yeah, but I have a reputation to maintain. Can't be seen sniping at someone with a scrunched up face, can I? And don't worry about the herbology so much. Sprout says your doing much better. Talk to you later, brat."
He stood and gave her heavy braid a quick tug, then tossed it over her shoulder to dangle down her chest. That drew an automatic protest from her that he just laughed at.
"You're a git, you know that, right?" she quipped, now smiling.
"Yeah, but I'm a good-looking, smart, brilliant git."
He gave her a quick nod before walking away. Ginny shook her head. Turning back to her homework, she marveled at how it now seemed to make sense. Impatiently tossing her braid back over her shoulder, Ginny settled down to work.