Draco Malfoy walked into the Great Hall, feeling the gazes of Granger and Potter (though, oddly, not Weasely) on him. They weighed him with suspicion, uncertainty and a trace of fear wrought into their expressions like cold iron itself. It was stupendously amusing. They seriously had no clue that of all the people in Slytherin, Draco Malfoy was the least likely to hurt them.
For now, at least.
Always so suspicious, Potter was.
Draco Malfoy's skin crackled at the tension, knowing without really thinking about it that it was bound to break sooner or later.
Still, he gave a victorious grin to Pansy as he sat down, not realizing exactly how un-Malfoy-like the expression was.
"I didn't realize he knew how to smile." Hermone said cattily.
Harry chuckled deeply at the thought. "Maybe he forgot he's not supposed to?"
Dean looked over, laughing, "What'd'ya mean he's not supposed to?"
Harry put on his imitation Snape voice (which, through long practice, was both spot on, and scary), "Slytherins should not display their emotion outwardly. They should instead adopt a placid, bland face, so as to hide what they really care about."
Seamus looked over, laughing, "That's rich! Just look at how often he blows up at you, Potter!"
Harry and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance. It was something they'd argued over, enough times to make honeybees faint. Harry'd reluctantly (very, very reluctantly) come to the conclusion that Snape couldn't possibly hate him as much as he acted like. There were too many other reasons for him to act that way.
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