3; 10:59 a.m.
History of Magic, if you were to ask Draco, is boring as hell and twice as long. Binns is a crazy old codger and an idiot, of course, and if Draco wanted to sleep during class, he'd just skip it. But Binns' class is good for one thing: thinking. And because there's never enough time in the day, Draco decides to steal someone's notes later and contemplates instead of listening.
Hate and love, he knows, often coincide; it's just never happened to him before. You do have to expect such things when you're a person such as him, after all, and so it isn't all that surprising. But that infernal Weasley girl is such a walking contradiction that it's impossible not to think about. Smiling one minute and screaming the next; hexing his brains out, but she's a part of Dumbledore's Army, they say (so self-righteous that it makes him ill). And she's just a blur in his mind, Gryffindor red and ink-black and the fate of the world in her hands, as Binns asks him who defeated Grindelwald.
"Albus Dumbledore," he replies without missing a beat.
No one expected anything less.