(Draco)

Draco slammed down the letter from his mother onto the table. The cutlery and plates on it shook and rattled, one of the many Greater Sooty Owls owned by the Malfoys that had delivered the letter hooted with displeasure and flew up into the rafters of the Great Hall and a steaming plate of scrambled eggs that had been balancing precariously on the edge of the table top fell into Crabbe's lap. The large boy grunted.

Dearest Draco

Your father and I send our love and hope you are well. From the letters I've received from him I have been able to gather that Azkaban is indeed as terrible as I've heard it is … I have been in correspondence with Severus and he assures me that the Dark Lord has developed a plan to break your father out and will put it into action as soon as you confirm that you have completed your task… Darling, I know you are trying your best – and I expect no less of you – but please, I beg you… hurry… I cannot bear to think of your father in that prison…and The Dark Lord becomes more displeased and violent with every passing day, I am beginning to fear for my safety…

Write back as soon as you have news for us

Mummy

He sighed, his stomach sinking. How very like his mother to play the guilt card. 'Hope you are well'… what dragon shit, he scoffed. She didn't give two knuts about his welfare, she merely wanted to save her own skin and get his father out of prison! Draco dug his short nails into the wooden surface under his hands and glanced up at Blaise, a stormy look adorning his sour face. Blaise had leapt at the chance to be the centre of attention whilst Draco was busy sorting through his morning mail, and was finishing off a dirty joke involving a Veela in a bar.

'-And it turned out that he was actually part troll!'

Pansy snorted into her goblet of pumpkin juice and Goyle started to choke on his bacon, red faced and in stitches, and Crabbe, who had not yet mastered a simple cleaning spell, was struggling to remove the egg from his robes with a napkin and perform what looked to be a variation of the Heimlich manoeuvre on his gasping companion at the same time. Blaise bent over, chuckling and gasping for breath, highly amused at the odd scene unfolding before him.

Not feeling quite jovial enough to involve himself in the morning's light-hearted antics, Draco turned around in his seat and scanned the hall, still scowling; hoping to catch sight of something interesting enough to keep his mind occupied for the next half hour. Breakfast time had become a rather tedious affair; he found himself becoming less and less interested in his friends and their childish games. Draco's life was now devoted higher purposes than making idle chat with Pansy and Blaise.

There was nothing much of interest going on, as always. Dumbledore, the crooked-nosed old fool, was still missing from his place at the head table. Snape was flicking through a copy of Potions Monthly and watching him over a cup of coffee. His eyes dropped as he spotted Draco returning his gaze, eyebrows raised. The rest of the Slytherins were prattling away to each other, the Hufflepuffs were acting as kind and amiable as ever – calls of 'Could you pass the marmalade?' and 'Of course!' could be heard from their table, and most of the Ravenclaws were fawning over books or holding intellectual conversations. Everything was as it should be. Why must these people be such bores, Draco guffawed. Even the Gryffindors, who could nearly always be counted on for a steaming vat of fresh gossip, were unusually quiet. This included Granger, who instead of flirting with Weasley and ordering The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Tosser around, was acting very reserved, reading the day's Prophet, eating a slice of toast and occasionally sipping from a mug of tea. She looked to her left as he watched her, and shot daggers at Ginger Balls and his girlfriend, who were at present attempting to become one filthy entity.

The Mudblood had been ignoring him since their encounter on top of the Astronomy tower on the previous Saturday and he was determined to find out why. It was typical sodding Granger. Draco rolled his eyes. If he'd shown such an interest in any other girl she would be all over him by now, trailing around after him like a lost dog. Trust her, with her backward Gryffindor ideals of chivalry and male responsibility, to expect him to make the first move. His lips hardened into a thin line. Deciding now would be as good of a time as ever to strike, – she was on her own and Potter was busy making love to that ratty old Potions book of his – Draco withdrew his legs from under the table, made his apologies to his cackling group of friends and rose, full of poise, from his chair and slunk over to her, a glint in his eyes.

He felt Pansy's eyes bore into the back of his head as she watched him saunter over to Granger. He heard her hiss his name more than again and again; eager to know why he was abandoning her for that, as he heard her say. He chuckled, chose to blow her off and made up a story in his head for later, when the questions would come – something along the lines of 'I went to comment on how ugly her hair was looking today.' That would satisfy Pansy.

*

He stepped into the empty space opposite Hermione and bent forwards, staring at her intently. Her eyes flicked from left to right and back again, completely absorbed by whatever it was that she was reading. Draco did not care much for the Daily Prophet – they had defamed his family on far too many occasions – but the article that had caught her eye must have been very enthralling. It was several seconds before she noticed him and when she did she paled considerably, dropped the knife she had been holding, brought a buttery hand to her cheek and very nearly fell out of her chair. It was as if she had seen a ghost. That would have been feasible – with his pale complexion, Draco could have passed for one easily enough.

Not wanting to put her in a black mood, he kept the laughter that threatened to burst forth inside of him and drew up a chair.

'So, Granger. We meet again, it seems. How are you?' He drawled, and smirked at her.

Still reeling in shock, Hermione opened and closed her mouth like a gormless fish, not knowing how to respond to his comment. Draco's smirk grew in size, taking pleasure from the fact that he had rendered the girl who had an answer for almost everything wordless. She shook her head and blinked.

She opened her mouth, and not wanting to draw attention, hissed at him in a hushed voice. 'What the Hell are you doing here? How could you have the audacity to-?'

Draco pressed a long, slender finger to her lips. She winced at the contact.

'Hush, you silly bint. I'll be doing to talking until I deem it appropriate. I wanted to know why you've been ignoring me.'

Hermione swatted his finger away from her mouth, bristling with anger.

'Look at my mouth, you inbred ferret! Did you honestly think, after doing that to me, that I'd want anything to do with you?'

Draco dropped his gaze to her mouth. A dull half moon of short pink scars spread from one side of her lower lip to another. At the corners of her mouth were small, yellow bruises.

Ah.

Although he did not fully recall harming her in such a brutal fashion, Draco deduced that he had been the perpetrator of the injuries. Granger wasn't exactly the most promiscuous of girls, and the likelihood that she had kissed another since him was small. It was a potentially disastrous turn of events for Draco; if she bore too much of a grudge against him he would not be able to follow through with his plan. Not knowing how to – or even really wanting to (from what he could remember he'd been satisfied by the kiss) – apoligise, Draco responded in his usual sarcastic manner.

'You don't like it rough then, do you, Granger?' The smirk, which had retreated momentarily, was back.

Reeling from his comment and lost for words, she slapped him. 'Get away from me, and don't you dare come near me again, you – arrogant – little – bastard!'

'I'll take that as a no.'

She slapped him again.

--

Enjoy the comedy while you can... ;D

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Laura