Had Draco Malfoy not been so observant, he wouldn't have noticed anything was wrong.
Unfortunately, he'd been trained from a young age to learn, to see, to find information.
So, Draco Malfoy felt the rope fall around his neck, as a young girl, Pansy Parkinson, squealed far down the table from him. "I'm going to be engaged!" she shrieked, and the sound felt like a thunderclap. "At Christmas!" she said, and Draco's eyes turned malevolent, the dark grey of onrushing stormclouds.
Blaise wasn't even there, the coward.
Good.
Draco Malfoy wanted him where there weren't so many eyes.
There would be a reckoning for this. Rage boiled through him like magma, hot and warm and sustaining. He could almost taste the blood he would spill.
[a/n: Nobody's told Pansy who's she's going to be engaged to. But Draco knows. Leave a review? Up next: Slytherin Common Room, if only briefly.]