The small—hell, he was downright shrimpy!—boy tried to press himself further into the wall, eyes flying between the three Slytherins. He looked about ready to cry.
"You know why I'm here," Draco drawled casually, arms crossed loosely. He tossed his hair to one side, out of his face. It could have been called a feminine gesture if it weren't for the fact that he had a habit of scaring people into silence.
The boy shook his head furiously. "I-I really don't," he stammered, "I-I just want to g-go talk to Hermione ab-bout…" Draco's eyes darkened and the boy trailed off nervously.
"Crabbe. Goyle. Why don't we show our friend what happens to those who don't know their place?"
The boy squeaked and held up a hand defensively. Crabbe and Goyle both sneered.
"Wait, wait! I'll give you whatever you want, anything!"
"Anything?" Draco purred, smirking, "Anything? I want you gone." His voice dropped into a dark growl. "Fail exams, transfer, I don't care. But I want you and that Head Boy post eons apart, do you understand?" He leaned down; face inches from the smaller boy's. "Or I will make sure it is done for you. Is that indisputably clear, half-blood?"
The boy's eyes widened and he burst out, "But why?"
A meaty fist made hard contact with his stomach and he fell heavily with a sickening thump.
"Don't question someone above you, mutt," Draco airily replied. He turned on his heel and started away. As Crabbe's foot dug into the boy's ribs, Draco called back, "And remember what I said. Gone."
He strode down the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle trailing dutifully behind him. The boy dragged himself to his knees, off the floor, and furtively glanced after the three. He grimaced as he staggered to his feet, eyes wide and pallor blanched as he bolted in the opposite direction.
"What do you mean 'Connor transferred to Durmstrang'?!" Hermione demanded, glaring at her two friends. She crossed her arms angrily, hip popping out. The two exchanged a nervous glance before looking back up at her from their place on the grass.
"Hermione… Calm down, it's no big deal. You're still Head Girl. Nothing's really changed."
"Wrong, Potter."
The three all looked up at Draco as he settled himself a few yards away, arms behind his head.
"And how would you know, Malfoy?" Hermione snapped, turning her gaze to him. Her hair was slowly slipping out of the ponytail she'd put it in, falling into her face. Her whiskey-gold eyes were cold and her expression was stony.
"Because, Granger," he said lazily, "I have special privileges making me privy to suck things."
"That's a load of bullocks, Malfoy," she snapped, lifting her chin. The way he said "special privileges" set her teeth on edge. "What possible privileges could you have?"
"Yeah, what are you on about, Malfoy?" Ron chimed in.
Draco smirked, a devil-may-care crook of his mouth that surely indicated he was up to no good.
"Watch how your tone, Weasel, it's unbecoming. As for you, Granger, that attitude could get you into trouble. You should treat with the respect a man of my position deserves."
She stared at him incredulously, brow arching slowly as the silence stretched on. Breezes wreaked havoc on her hair, pulling it completely loose. She didn't bother with it, still staring, frustrated, at Draco.
"You know, I'm pretty sure that royal pains in the arse don't deserve any respect Malfoy," she finally said, breaking the silence. The cupid's bow of her lips curled into a delicate, victorious smile as she shook her hair out of her face.
Draco didn't respond, still not-so-discreetly staring at her. The movement of her lips, the windblown look of her hair, he was too busy watching and imagining to reply at first.
"I think you struck him speechless, 'Mione…" Harry said, chuckling.
"Very funny, Potter," Draco spat, "but I don't intend to give Granger that pleasure. Although we will be seeing much more of each other…"
"For Merlin's sake, what are you on about, Malfoy?" she demanded, rolling her sleeves toward her elbows. Something about his statement made her uneasy and skeptical.
"Well, Granger, since you asked so nicely, I'm the new Head Boy." He smiled a bit more, looking at her through his eyelashes. Her cheeks colored and her posture abruptly stiffened. Her confidence seemed to wane. Anxiety flitted across her face and her gaze darted to her friends.
"Since when?" Harry demanded, trying to keep the shock out of his own voice. Ron didn't even look able to speak, freckles standing out on his pale pallor and fists clenched. Punching Draco looked much more likely.
"Because your friend Connor transferred and I was chosen to replace him." Draco chuckled. "Funny ol' world, isn't it? You seem surprised."
Hermione shifted her weight uncomfortably, then snatched her bag off the ground.
"I have to go," she muttered, quickly heading back into the castle.
Draco stared after her, enjoying the brush of her skirt against the back of her legs, the swing of her hips, the seductively curved nip of her waist. He would have her.
