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During breakfast the next day, nobody needled Malfoy about him and Heather. Word had spread that he and Heather spent the previous day walking around the grounds, taunting and hexing people whenever they approached. In addition, Malfoy wore such a dark expression that no one dared talk to him.
The owls arrived shortly after breakfast, and he was surprised when his owl dropped a parcel on his lap while he was about to fork some bacon into his mouth. It was rather thin, soft, and badly wrapped.
He was aware that the Slytherin table's noise level considerably lowered – did the parcel mark further progress in the Malfoy-Parker love saga? He opened the parcel slowly, little by little, which he knew wore the Slytherins' patience thin. Finally, it was open, and out fell a… scarf. His scarf, that he lent to that stupid Parker, and a note. He glanced at the latter. On it was written only one word: Thanks.
That was it? He expected – no, wanted to see a longer message from her. Even just her insults. He wrapped the scarf around his neck, and he joined as the Slytherins sighed in disappointment, shrugged their shoulders and went back to their chatter. Malfoy glanced furtively across the hall at the Gryffindor table. She was sitting next to that poofy-haired Granger, and was locked into some sort of contest where she was pushing her index finger against Potter's. He felt a hot, angry feeling in his gut, and attributed it to bacon going the wrong way. He tore his gaze away, and resumed eating as if nothing happened, but inside, he was seething.
Heather, meanwhile, sensed her morning was on the path of destruction when a fifth year from Ravenclaw, shouted out to her, "hey Parker! Where's your boyfriend Malfoy? Lover's spat?" The noise suddenly hushed. Heather paused for a few moments, wrinkling her nose, and shouted back, "I can smell you from here! Go take a fucking bath and spare us all!" The crowd sniggered while the Ravenclaw girl shrank in shame, and routine resumed once more.
Despite that incident, there were fewer comments now. Which was just as well, because she was running out of insults anyway. She wanted to salvage what was left of her morning, so after finishing breakfast, she turned to Hermione. "Are you going to class fifteen minutes early?"
Ron and Harry groaned.
"Yeah!" Hermione nodded. "You coming?" she asked Heather.
Ron and Harry groaned again. "Shut up, you two," said Heather cheerfully. "I'll go. Anything to get away from these hellish people," she added in a low tone.
"Right, we'll join you later," Ron grinned and waved at them. "We'll just enjoy our breakfast."
"Boys," Hermione exhaled fondly.
"We are not over, Potter," Heather mock-threatened, referring to their finger-pushing match earlier, which Harry won.
"You might want to get that finger to Madam Pomfrey," Harry teased.
She made a sound like tchah! and turned to Hermione. "C'mon?"
"Let's go," said Hermione, and they made their way to the fourth floor for their History of Magic with Professor Binns.
"About last night…" Hermione started.
"Why, what happened?" She asked a little too innocently, and Hermione frowned at her. She was still trying hard to block their conversation from the night before. Their trip down to the kitchen ironed out the tension from their discussion: her brief shouting match with Ron, calling them stupid, and… "I'm sorry," she blurted out.
"For what?" Hermione looked at her, puzzled.
She ran her fingers through her hair, then realized what she was doing, and abruptly stopped. Damn Malfoy! "Er, well… For calling you lot stupid."
Hermione chuckled, and glanced at me. "We know you didn't mean it."
"Yeah, well… I just wanted to make it clear." She smiled. "Thanks."