The owlery was overly busy these days. Students were coming and going with regular enthusiasm, and the castle had never been filled with so many food parcels. Filch was having a difficult time keeping the owl food stores stocked, but it was a lot easier to keep the nests clean, at least; fewer residents meant less excrement. Draco appreciated being able to pick his way across the hay strewn floor without worrying about scraping off his high end leather shoes afterwards. His goal sat serenely aloof from her neighbors, with large golden eyes focused directly on his approach. Draco reached out with a black gloved hand, and the blond and black spotted eagle owl shifted her face away from his touch. "Oh, come on girl, don't be like that," he crooned softly, tugging gently at the fur under her chin. She replied with a low hoot of pique. Sending a short huff of amusement into the windy tower, Draco reached down to untie the linen wrapped package from her feet. He gave the wiry leg a quick rubdown, and was rewarded when she offered her face to him once more. He fished a lump of parchment from his robes and held it up for her to sniff. She clicked her beak once, and he unrolled a lump of deer meat for her to feast on. She sang out a long hoot and launched herself into the air, snatching up the flesh in her talons and cuffing him across the top of his head with her wing along the way. A corner of his mouth lifted as he rubbed the spot she made contact with. "Malfoy, through and through," he reflected, and watched her sail off towards the tree line, content to eat her meal in solitude.
Draco balled up the empty parchment and tossed it into a corner to be cleared away later with the rest of the mess. He dusted off his trousers and leaned down to scoop up the package he'd requested from his mother. It had substantial weight to it, and made him glad he'd brought an extra something for his winged cohort. Looping his fingers under the twine knotting, he allowed the package to swing freely as he exited the owlery and took the back staircase down to the Hogwarts grounds.
He slowed in surprise to find his do-gooder nemesis retching into the shrubbery. Draco engaged the other boy gleefully, allowing himself free reign to add to the other 7th year's misery. Instead of the sound trouncing he should have delivered, he found himself distracted by concern, and walked away from the interaction deeply unsettled. As he ruminated over the events of the last week, he was able to hone in on a number of unusual interactions between himself and the Boy-Who-Lived; he was even more disturbed at the realization that some of their encounters had been downright human.
The Slytherin tossed his head back, flicking his bangs to the side, and attempted to shuffle the discomfiting thoughts from his mind. His feet had been leading him to the rear dungeon entrance, and he increased his speed to get his parcel indoors. He nearly tripped over the still form of Hermione Granger, poised at the top of the dungeon steps. "What in Grindlewald's hell are you doing, Mudblood?" Draco yelled, nearly falling off the top step, and angry because he almost did it to avoid pushing her. Hermione jumped in fright at the loud voice so close to her ear.
"Malfoy! For the love of… you could have startled me down the bloody steps!" Hermione was breathing a bit heavily, evidently caught completely unawares.
"You'd have deserved it," Draco replied spitefully. He rudely nudged past her as he began to navigate the stone rungs. "Why the hell are you lurking? You are asking for trouble," he shouted plainly, not bothering to look behind himself.
"What I do with my time is my own business, Ferret-boy!"
Draco was preparing to round the corner to enter the Slytherin common room when a novel idea occurred to him, spurred by the knowledge that Granger couldn't cook. He tilted his profile toward her. "Professor Snape'll flay you alive if you're late for your 'session,' too," he guessed, and sent her a malicious smile. Bingo, he praised himself, as she seemed to come to her senses all at once and barrel down the staircase. He continued on his path to his rooms, and picked up her footfalls turning down the opposite hall, making a beeline for the Potions laboratories. Shaking his head, mildy repulsed, he whispered the password into the stone wall, and watched it dissolve into the passageway for the Slytherin common room. Draco strode confidently through it, and nodded curtly at Crabbe and Goyle as he bypassed the area en route to his rooms.
His station as the Malfoy heir would have likely given him the clout he needed to attain his own personal space that year, but being selected as Head Boy had made that job substantially easier. A few lengthy conversations with the portraits in the common room, combined with a hefty dose of his own brand of charm, and he'd managed to gain access to an extended subset of rooms, directly connected to his own. He transitioned into those rooms after he entered his own, and emerged into a regally appointed kitchen; he'd outfitted it with no one the wiser, and was now free to experiment and create as he pleased.
Draco dropped the package in his hands off onto a worktop, and stripped off his robe and gloves, which he flung onto a tall barstool against the wall. Clad only in a soft grey shirt and slacks, he opened the linen covering and unpacked the contents of his shipment. He hummed quietly while he worked, remembering fondly a lesson here, or the story behind an ingredient there. Draco knew the next dish he would attempt would be the deciding factor in his entry to the contest. His Caneton aux Cérises was without equal, and his only real challenge was the timing. How silly is this, squirming with excitement over this child's play? he scolded himself. He paused for a moment, then smiled brilliantly. Potter will lose his mind. With that last affirmation, the pure-blood pulled an apron from the hook on the wall nearest him, and lost himself in the delicate art of mise en place.