The bookstore was simply amazing, Hermione thought for the umpteenth time. Not only could it amuse her for hours, but also the aisle of books hid her from any possible contact with a certain bouncing ferret. Even if her Arithmancy book hadn't hit the shelves yet, plenty of books still waited to amuse her. Everything from cooking to gardening to bowling (with a magical twist to it, of course) waited to be opened by the wandering last year Hogwart's student.
"It really is my last year," she said, the corners of her eyes crinkling at the tome about animals before her. The thought of leaving her friends and the familiar halls of her school dampened her wild spirits, which rode high on the thoughts of independence and maturity. She could feel herself tearing up already (No, you will not cry, stupid hormonal girl) and forced herself to begin reading about the digestive system of a badger to stop the stupid drippy emotions.
Badger. Weasel. Ferret.
Ferret?
"Glad to know you're so interested in the journey my food takes," a dry voice came from over her shoulder.
What was the dim boy's partiality to appearing from behind her?
Hermione whirled around and found herself face-to-chest with her mortal enemy. "I was reading up on which poisons would be most effective," she retorted, resorting once again to third year insults and sarcasm.
"Like I said," he leaned closer, "glad to know you're so interested."
Time froze as Hermione considered exactly what he was saying. That could decidedly be taken out of context and put into another, slightly more naughty, one. She chose to ignore that, along the fact that the glint in his eyes convinced her he –knew- about the absolute wrongness of his statement, and whirled away to stomp over to the medicinal section of the bookshop.
"So, Granger, what do you say?"
"To poisoning you? Give me two minutes and I promise you I won't fail." Hermione brandished a thin, powder blue book entitled, "Ways To Kill Your Worst Enemy".
Draco smiled ("My, what nice teeth you've got," thought Hermione) and she backed up one tiny step. Draco took this as a sign of encouragement. Stepping forward, he reached out and plucked the pamphlet out of her nervous fingers and return it to its home on the shelf. "You don't want to kill me."
"Don't be so sure of that!"
"I intrigue you too much, Granger. You won't kill me until you've understood me or died trying."
Hermione didn't even try to digest these words for fear of another innuendo. Instead, she pushed past him and stormed outside into Diagon Alley, homicide followed by suicide on her intelligent brain.
Since when did one Draco "I know everything" Malfoy become waxing philosophical?