I would not protect you from battle
as well protect the falcon from the sky
But when the darkness gathers
I'll not let you cry.
It was shorter than some, and yet, Draco Malfoy thought, enigmatically more heartfelt. Hermione Granger - the Gryffindor Princess - had gayly surrounded herself with thoughtless and careless people. Not that Potter meant to be thoughtless, he was simply self-absorbed. Draco snorted as he idly whittled his quill. People thought Draco Malfoy was self-absorbed. Utter nonsense, that. A Slytherin couldn't afford to sleep with both eyes shut - and while awake, he liked to keep track of everything around him. Draco Malfoy was a young man who knew himself - and he knew he was smug, and often arrogant. But self-absorbed? Never.
So it came as no surprise when the Terrible Twins (that being Ron and Harry) tried to swipe the letter out of the owl's clutches next morning. And it came as even less of a surprise when Hermione Granger began to lecture them - her beautiful eyes sparkling, richly brown, like melted chocolate. He didn't quite catch what Harry said, but Draco certainly caught what Ron Weasley said after, "We're just trying to look out for you, 'Mione!" Draco suppressed a snort. Those two wouldn't know how to look after Granger if someone paid them a thousand galleons. Did they really think she was just opening the letters without checking them for potions and the like?
She had, after all, been helping Potter with his 'fan mail.' Draco Malfoy's liips quirked into a sideways smirk, which he looked down to carefully conceal. May he hate them just as much as I do mine. Oh, don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm above a bit of decent flattery - but these chits don't know me from Adam! And it's hard to craft a decent compliment like that.
Granger, as was typical, stormed off - probably heading toward the library. It wasn't like she'd try anything in the least bit tricksy to get back on her friends. So she totally missed the two chuckleheads starting to whisper quietly, scheming no doubt. That was the problem with Gryffindors - it wasn't that they couldn't scheme, it was that they were so bloody obvious about it.
Well, they had picked the wrong tiger today, Draco Malfoy thought with a carefully hidden smirk. He'd enjoy getting the Gryffindor puppies running in circles until they were sniffing each other's arses. Now that, that was almost poetical. He'd have to remember it - might help rub salt into their mysteriously inflicted wounds.
[a/n: write a review if you love me! Draco really doesn't like Potter and Weasley, can you tell?]