ii.
You remember his eyes.
AGAIN.
No, it's not gray; no, sir, it was probably silver-grey.
Then you remember your second year at Hogwarts.
Remember that time at the Quidditch Pitch?
When he called you a filthy little Mudblood in front of the Slytherin Quidditch team.
Every Gryffindor there stood angrily, ready to defend your honor.
Wands out, fists clenched, hexes and curses and jinxes ready and deliciously nagging to roll off of someone's tongue in just a tiny, uncalculated movement.
You smirked.
Slytherins sneered and jeered at you- at them- very not Slytherin-esque, you thought.
He glared at you, daring you to challenge him.
Goddamned prude.
Stupid little snake.
Bloody coward.
You just scoffed and smirked at him.
Again.
"Let it go," you said calmly.
"He's not worth it."
Bloody Gryffindors.
Too much bravery makes them recklessly stupid.
But no, No, Ron HAD to show off! And where did it get him?
At Hagrid's hut, vomiting off slugs!
He stared at you as you and Harry hoisted him away, an ugly smirk marring his features.
Silver grey eyes meets brown eyes.
He suddenly looked away.
That's right, you mouthed. Look away, you bloody coward.
You smirked for the last time at him because you know, he got your message by the way his pale face reddened; and you know
Malfoys never go down without a fight.