Monday, 5 October 1998
September had transitioned into October almost unnoticed, as most students were simply too busy with their school work. Their first month had flown by and by now the weather had gradually become less and less enjoyable with the trees turning deeper shades of yellow, orange and red.
The seventh-years received more homework every week and the Professors continued to mercilessly remind them of their exams and the high expectations they would have to live up to in June, which was said to approach quicker than they expected. Draco was not impressed with this threat, though he sincerely hoped they were right. He couldn't wait to get out of this place for good.
Even though Zabini had always complained about Slughorn's Slug Club parties on end, he had been utterly insulted when the first dinner party was hosted and he hadn't gotten an invitation. Draco suspected that, even though the parties during their sixth year had been rather dull and the company had been questionable, Zabini had always enjoyed the fact that he had been one of the few chosen students.
That assumption was quite compatible with his superior attitude: he enjoyed special attention, no matter how little it impressed him. All that mattered was that he could somehow use it to his own advantage. But Slughorn clearly hadn't yet forgiven him for his behaviour during that regrettable Potions class weeks ago, and Zabini had been bitter about it for days now. His mood had only worsened when the Weasley girl had smugly rubbed her own invitation in his face. The little wench wasn't only a pain to Zabini, she annoyed Draco to no end as well.
The first Quidditch match of the year was fast approaching, but somehow whenever Draco wanted to schedule training, the Gryffindor team had already reserved the field. Weasley refused to bend from her schedule and she rejected his attempts to strike a compromise.
He didn't like admitting it, but the Gryffindor Quidditch team was stronger than he had ever expected now that Potter was gone. Draco hadn't expected them to find a Seeker that was able to perform well enough to live up to the expectations of the position, but according to Niles Hanley, who had been watching the Gryffindor tryouts, the petite girl that had gotten the Seeker spot deserved it, fair and square, which had only doubled the pressure Draco was feeling. Slytherin could not lose to Gryffindor this year. That would not only mean losing against a female Captain, but also losing against a female Seeker. Losing against Potter had been bad enough.
Slytherin had to win. His Chasers were simply fantastic, his Keeper continued to stop every single goal during training and his Beaters were vicious and unscrupulous. On top of that, he himself was a skilled Seeker, and now that the legendary Potter was no longer here, Draco felt that it was his time to shine. He would not let Gryffindor win.
"Weasley!" he called through the Entrance Hall.
The redhead, who stood amongst a group of fellow sixth-year students, turned around slowly with her eyebrows raised in suspicion. "What?"
Draco reluctantly walked up to her. "We need to talk."
"Do we?" she asked irritably.
"We do," he answered with a growl. He grabbed her arm and dragged her into a study section near the Charms classroom, ignoring her protests. Once inside, Weasley yanked her arm out of his grip, glaring up at him with a blazing look in her eyes.
"Who in Merlin's name do you think you are?" she snarled. "You could have just asked me to come with you!" She folded her arms and impatiently tapped her foot on the ground as she muttered dark nothings under her breath, continuing to glare up at him.
"Sit down," Draco said grumpily.
"Thanks, but no thanks," she said sarcastically. "I'd much rather keep standing."
Draco sighed, already tired of the Gryffindor's behaviour. "I would like to make a deal with you regarding the Quidditch field."
"This again?" Weasley spat in annoyance. "I've already told you that I'm sticking to my schedule."
"And I've already told you that it would be nice of you to give others a chance to practice as well!" bit Draco back.
She looked up at him, seeming rather unimpressed. "Then you should have booked the field sooner. First come, first served, Malfoy. You'll have to accept the leftovers this time," she said smugly. "Now if you could excuse me, I actually have a class to attend to." With one last glare, she tossed her red mane over her shoulder and moved past him.
He curled his lip in disgust and followed her out of the study section, but instead of going left like she had, he turned right and marched down the corridor, silently cursing the girl. He would show her not to mess with him. When he reached Madam Hooch's office he took a deep breath, composing himself. He then knocked on the door.
"Enter."
Draco pushed the door open and moved inside. "Good morning, Madam Hooch," he said politely, looking down at the grey-haired witch, who was sitting behind a large wooden desk. She looked up from her writings, staring intently up at him with her yellow hawk-like eyes.
"Ah, Mr Malfoy, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I would like to look into the field reservations please, if that's possible."
The witch nodded and opened a drawer, taking out a large leather-bound book which she handed to him. "You may sit over there, Mr Malfoy," she said, motioning her head in the direction of a small table in the corner.
"Thank you, Madam."
Draco took the book and seated himself at the table. He opened the book, browsing through the pages until he found the page he was looking for: October 1998. He scanned the page with an angry frown. Weasley had booked the field every single morning before breakfast for the coming two weeks. He sighed. He would have to convince his team to practice in the evenings and skip dinner, considering he had to be back in the Head's Tower immediately afterwards. It wouldn't help to go talk to McGonagall; she was quite a Quidditch fanatic and he knew she was rather biased. She would love for Gryffindor to win the Cup.
Draco scribbled down his signature to book the field every morning for the last two weeks of October, and after a split second of hesitation, he included the first two weeks of November which led up to the match. That would teach that Weasley wench. Luckily he had logic on his side because he knew he could get in trouble for this. If Gryffindor wanted to train it would have to be in the evenings, because they could and he couldn't. First come, first served, right, Weasley? Enjoy the leftovers.
He snapped the book shut, stood up and returned the book to Madam Hooch, thanked her for her time and left the office. Checking his wristwatch, he groaned and reluctantly made his way to Muggle Studies.
Thursday, 8 October 1998
"Now, please partner up with someone other than your previous partner," announced Slughorn with a lazy wave of his hand as he returned to the front of the class. The four Ravenclaws were quick to once again partner up amongst each other and Macmillan hesitantly moved in Nott's direction, clearly hoping that his impression of the guy had been correct and that he was, in fact, not too bad to be around.
Draco turned around and his eyes met Greengrass'. She nodded with relief and quickly made her way over to his table.
She was a smart girl, which was proven by the fact that she was one of the very few people to be allowed to continue Potions. He was glad that Pansy had chosen her as her best friend and not Davis because Greengrass was the only Slytherin girl in his year, other than Pansy, of course, that he genuinely liked. She wasn't as laid-back as he and Pansy were and sometimes she spoiled their fun by being too serious, but at least she didn't drive him crazy with pointless conversations all day long. If she didn't really have something to say she simply didn't say anything, and it was one of the things he really appreciated about her.
"Now, I'd like to remind you that this is one of the most difficult and complicated potions to make and I urge you to be serious about it," said the Potions Master sternly, addressing his class. "Brewing the Polyjuice Potion correctly is not limited to class hours. You may have to come in between classes to add ingredients or stir the potion in the correct directions. If you are unable to understand just how important what we're doing here is, I suggest you leave now. I shall not tolerate another incident like a few weeks ago. The Auror department is in desperate need of these batches."
With that, Slughorn revealed the basic instructions on the blackboard. "Independent of its actual brewing process, the Polyjuice Potion requires a good deal of preparation prior to the making. During this time, you are to research the potion and write an essay about the effects, side effects and characteristics of the potion, as well as the significance of each ingredient. All clear? Good, let's get started, you lot."
The Potions Master strutted through the classroom for a few minutes and then returned to his desk, sitting down as the students moved to the ingredient cabinet to prepare their potion.
"Where the hell is Granger?" Greengrass asked, frowning as she scanned the classroom. "Is she so miserable that she's skipping classes now?"
"She's at McGonagall's," Draco answered curtly. "To finish up taking care of that Whomping Willow incident from this morning."
Earlier that day, three first-year Hufflepuffs had been playing around with the notorious tree until eventually one of them wasn't quick enough to get away from its branches. The Willow had grabbed him and swung him around for a good five minutes before letting go of him, after which the boy had disappeared over the trees and into the Forbidden Forest.
The seventh-years were just making their way back from the Greenhouses when it happened, and Granger had hurried after the boy with the assistance of Finnigan and Thomas, quickly retrieving him. She had taken him to the Hospital Wing, but then they discovered that he had been bitten by a Blood-Sucking Bugbear and Madam Pomfrey had sent him to St. Mungo's where he would be checked for infections. A transfer like that required quite the paperwork.
Greengrass' observation was accurate. Granger had been making a rather miserable impression lately. Ever since her birthday, or at least that's when Draco had started noticing, she was really quiet. She had stopped asking him questions about everything and anything, something Draco didn't mind at all. Much to his relief, she had returned to communicating strictly about Head's business.
"This bloody thing is going to take a month to complete," Greengrass commented irritably, quickly scanning the lines of instructions. "And the lacewing flies must be stewed for twenty-one days prior to the brewing, and we also have to take the type of cauldron into consideration," she huffed before stepping back to examine the cauldron. "What kind of cauldron is this?" she asked, looking up at Draco, as it was his.
"It's a copper cauldron, I don't know how much more specific you want me to be?" Draco drawled with a little amusement. "Must I tell you how expensive it was, hmm?"
"Well, Malfoy, I hate to break it to you, but if it didn't cost you at least twenty Galleons, I'm afraid this potion is going to be an utter failure," Greengrass said dramatically, playing along. They snickered quietly and Draco tossed a handful of the little green flies into the cauldron.
"So we can start brewing at the end of this month, and then it will take us another month?" he asked with a frown, already dreading working on this potion.
Greengrass grimaced. "Yeah, the flies will be ready on the 29th, so until then..." She sighed and sat down, taking a roll of parchment from her bag.
Draco adjusted the temperature of the flames underneath the cauldron and sat down next to her, copying her moves. After about half an hour of taking notes he heard someone say his name. When he looked up he saw Granger standing in front of Slughorn's desk, speaking quietly.
"I'm sorry I'm so late, Professor," she apologised quietly. "I was at the Headmistress' office to assist her with some paperwork regarding the hospital transfer of first-year Martin Beccles."
"Ah, yes," Slughorn nodded. "Mr Malfoy had already informed me of the reason for your absence. The poor boy, will he be alright?"
"We don't know yet, sir. His injuries didn't seem severe but there's a slight possibility he's infected with Scrofungulus because of the bite. Madam Pomfrey said that it's not likely, but she didn't want to take risks because he's still quite young and if he's infected it will affect him rather badly. Either way, he will return before the end of the weekend."
"Good, good. Now, Ms Granger, as you can see we are unevenly divided so I must ask you to join one of the existing pairs. Why don't you go join Ms Greengrass and Mr Malfoy in the back?"
"Um, Professor, I'm not sure that's such a good idea…" Granger stammered lamely, shooting glances at the two Ravenclaw girls in the front with the obvious desire to join them instead, but Slughorn carelessly waved away her concerns.
"Nonsense, Ms Granger, I'm sure you three will do just fine. Now, off you go, make me proud."
Draco groaned and nudged Greengrass, who in response spilled ink on her parchment and glared up at him. "Careful what you're curious about next time. Granger's back and she's joining our team," he hissed at her.
"What? Again?!" Greengrass replied harshly, a little louder than she had intended. Her head snapped up at Granger, who had been moving in their direction. She abruptly held her step and stared at the blonde girl with an offended glare.
"Now, Ms Greengrass, there's no need for such an attitude," Slughorn scolded her, quickly having noticed the way the Slytherin girl was looking at Granger. "You have to thank Ms Granger here for your sufficient grade for the Blood-Replenishing Potion!" he continued, sounding a little aghast.
Greengrass turned a little pink at this reprimand but she kept her expression composed. "Yes, of course. My apologies, sir, but since you specifically mentioned to choose a different partner…"
"But Ms Granger was not officially your partner last time," the Potions Master interjected, sounding a little more relieved than he had just yet. "She only helped you out in the end. Now, I expect no more trouble. Please get back to your research, alright?"
The Head Girl arrived at their table, and Draco sighed. He had been so happy with their current way of communication, or rather, their lack thereof, and now they had been partnered up for yet another time-consuming project. Granger had raised an eyebrow and continuously shot angry glances at Greengrass, obviously insulted by her unsubtle display of displeasure.
"Don't give me that look, Granger," Greengrass said softly when she glanced back after a moment. "I know you're as… happy… with this as I am."
"My disappointment toward this partnership wasn't directed at you, Greengrass. I hardly know you enough to dislike you," Granger answered stiffly. "I merely believe that the current partnership I have with Malfoy is rather enough for a lifetime, as I'm sure he'll agree with me."
"Yes, Granger, for once I'm not afraid to publicly announce that I agree with you," Draco drawled with another sigh.
"Well, I hope I can trust you two," Greengrass emphasised sarcastically, sounding a little disgusted, "to keep your personal displeasure from ruining this potion, which is complicated enough as it is without this ridiculous assigned partnership," she grumbled.
"I have successfully brewed the Polyjuice Potion before," Granger stated, a hint of a smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I'm sure I'll be able to do it again, despite this, um, ridiculous partnership," she said, pettily mimicking Greengrass' tone.
Draco stared at her with narrowed eyes. Why did she sound so proud? It wasn't like it came as a surprise to them that she had been able to do something as difficult as this before. After all, she was know-it-all Granger, and he and everyone else had long ago been forced to accept that there was no way that they could ever beat her, academically.
Granger sat down on the other side of Greengrass and took out a roll of parchment as well. Shooting quick displeased glances at each other, the three students sighed as one, ready to just get this over with.
~ X ~
"…and you really have to stop being so pathetic!"
"Pathetic? Me? I'm sorry, but I'm not the one who has been crying for over a sodding week now because I didn't get some stupid party invite from an old fat walrus. Grow the hell up."
"You've got some nerve talking to me like that. Is this how you thank someone who has been keeping an eye on you for weeks now to make sure you don't get hurt? Honestly, your mother would be ashamed if she saw your ungrateful attitude. And you call yourself a proper pureblood witch."
"Oh my, you're so tough, insulting me from the other side of the table. Do you want me to come over there to smack that smug little smile off your face?"
"Pansy!" Greengrass hissed nervously, eyeing the staff table when her friend continued to raise her voice.
"Smack me, hmm? What are you, some lowly Muggle? You disgust me."
"Can you two please just shut the hell up for two minutes?" Draco snapped, rubbing his forehead with a pained expression on his face, utterly tired of the fighting between his two classmates, which had been going on all day. Nott sat silently beside the group of four, reading the Evening Prophet and not paying attention to Pansy and Zabini's arguing. Draco was incredibly envious of him for being able to shut off his hearing so that he could read without being disturbed.
The two finally stopped arguing and silently finished their dinner, hatefully glaring at each other every now and then. Even though it had happened several weeks ago, Pansy was still behaving rather cautiously, acting suspiciously about everyone. Zabini was getting tired of her behaviour, and he hadn't been quiet about it. He had bluntly told her that she wasn't fun to be around anymore because she was nothing but a nervous mess these days, a statement that had greatly offended Pansy.
"Are you done with the Sports section?" Draco grumbled, addressing Nott. His classmate nodded and handed him the requested pages without so much as looking up from the article he was reading.
Draco took the page and started reading the League Cup reports, shaking his head as he read that the Tutshill Tornados were once again mercilessly defeated, by the Ballycastle Bats this time. The peace and quiet lasted a glorious twelve minutes, but then Pansy decided that she really wanted to have the last word.
"What would you know about proper pureblood witches anyway," she hissed softly at Zabini, a hostile edge to her voice. "You wouldn't recognise one even if she danced naked in front of you. You haven't exactly seen many in your life, have you? It's not like your mother can refer to herself as one, being the promiscuous wench she is."
Everyone close to Pansy who had been able to hear her vocal attack gasped in abhorrence. Slytherins weren't generally known as friendly people, and sarcasm and light insults were considered their mother tongue, but if there was one thing that was considered to cross all lines and break every unwritten rule, it was attacking someone's family.
"PANSY!" Greengrass shrieked, looking absolutely mortified.
Zabini stared at her with wide eyes, his entire body tensed with cold fury. "How dare you," he hissed back after a moment of seeming absolutely at a loss for words. His voice sounded awfully calm, and everyone who knew Zabini at all knew that was a very dangerous sign.
Draco and Nott had both put down their newspapers the second Pansy had started talking again, and Draco was eyeing her with an amount of worry he hadn't felt in a long time. He knew Zabini would never assault a woman, but she had just come awfully close to being an exception and he wasn't sure whether she was aware of that.
He got to his feet and pulled her up from the bench as well, forcing her to come with him. Once they reached the Entrance Hall he pushed her into the Chamber of Reception and closed the door. "What the hell is wrong with you," he hissed angrily at her the second he turned to face her. Pansy angrily stared up at him, but the look in her eyes quickly changed from angry determination to remorse.
"I've gone too far, haven't I?" she whispered. "Oh, Merlin…"
"I knew you could be foul, but what were you thinking? Whatever he's done, he surely has not deserved that."
"I wasn't thinking, Draco," Pansy whispered in desperation. "I just… I've been feeling so awfully weak lately, and I hate it, it's killing me! And while he was supportive at first, he's just been mocking me for being a wimp the past few days, and…"
For a second Draco thought she was going to cry, and the thought scared him. He had only ever seen her cry tears of anger, and he wasn't ready to witness another category of tears from her now. But she just drew in a shaky breath and her eyes remained dry.
"He just hurt me, okay? And normally I would have handled that just fine. You know me, I don't let myself get hurt easily. But I have just been feeling really off lately… I guess I wasn't myself in there."
"I know, I know," Draco said softly, pulling her closer. "Just… please apologise. You may be feeling weak, but so does he, for his own stupid reasons. I won't be able to do anything to help you if he decides to plan your demise tonight, and quite honestly, if I were him and you said that to me, I would probably already have a plan ready to get away with your murder."
"Your mother is wonderful," she murmured against his shoulder. "I would never insult her like that."
"Good."
Pansy pulled away from him and gave him a half-hearted smile. "Thanks, Draco. Now, let's go, before McGonagall decides that comforting your friends a little after curfew is a legitimate reason to expel you."
He sighed at that. "I'm sure she already has."
~ X ~
When Granger arrived back in the common room around nine o'clock, Draco had spent an hour and a half feverishly browsing back and forth through the pages to find any side effects of the Polyjuice Potion, but he had been unable to find any. Even though he didn't like admitting it, he had reached a point of desperation, and while begrudgingly, he had admitted to himself that he needed help.
"Granger, I would like to request your assistance," he grumbled, groaning inwardly.
She stopped moving and glanced at him in suspicion, as though she wasn't sure of his intentions. "With what?" she asked carefully.
"This sodding potion," Draco answered, gesturing to the book in front of him. "I can't find a thing about side effects."
Walking up to the study table, she peeked at the cover of his book and nodded thoughtfully. "You're not going to find any in there," she commented as she lifted her book bag to put it down on the table. Opening the clasps, Granger searched through her bag and took out Moste Potente Potions by Phineas Bourne, handing it to him. Draco took the book with a nod and opened it to the pages Granger had bookmarked and immediately found what he was looking for.
"Thanks," he muttered uncomfortably. "Where did you find this book?"
"Restricted section." She shrugged as she sat down across from him, taking her own Potions essay from her bag. She browsed through her notes and started writing.
Draco couldn't help but glance at the Gryffindor girl on the other side of the table, wondering about her former experience with the Polyjuice Potion. He had expected her to be familiar with it, and he suspected that she had used the potion — undoubtedly on several occasions — during the Second Wizarding War. He had, after all, heard about the day the Dark Lord had planned to capture Potter, an event more commonly known as the Battle of the Seven Potters. As one of his best friends, she had most probably been one of those seven people.
There had been something about the way she had smiled during class that had left Draco wondering. He knew that she was probably pleased with her capabilities, but the smug smile from earlier had seemed foreign on her face. He knew her as someone who was rather modest, and she definitely wasn't one to boast about her achievements, academically or otherwise. It could only mean that she had brewed the Polyjuice Potion under extraordinary circumstances. Only then she would allow herself to be really proud of her work. Suddenly an incident from years ago crossed his mind, and Draco couldn't help but smirk.
"So, Granger," he began slowly, "you've already brewed this potion before. That's what you said earlier, right?"
"Yes, why?" Granger answered absent-mindedly, seemingly completely oblivious to his intentions as she proceeded to copy her notes.
"No reason," Draco said innocently. "I just couldn't help but wonder whether it might have had something to do with the fact that you spent several weeks in the hospital wing during our second year."
Much to his delight, Granger's right hand froze mid-sentence and she slowly looked up at him, an unreadable expression on her face. After a short moment of hesitation, she narrowed her eyes. "I was petrified during our second year, Malfoy, as I'm sure you remember quite well. Of course I was in the hospital wing for weeks on end."
"No, no, no," he smirked. "I meant before the winter holidays. I remember all too well that you were petrified, it's been up for quite a debate how you could pass the year while you were in the hospital wing for most of it. Smells a lot like favouritism to me."
She took her time replying. "I never realised you were so observant, Malfoy," she commented with a hint of sarcasm. "It's nice to know I was missed."
"Funny, Granger, really witty. I wonder why you're so determined to tiptoe around the subject. It's almost as though you've got something to hide."
"I wonder too sometimes, Malfoy," Granger countered sharply. "Why is it that you're allowed to ask questions whereas when I do it, I'm being accused of prying?"
"Because our intentions are different," Draco answered simply. "I'm not trying to be noble here."
She raised her eyebrows. "Right. And I assume you believe that I am? I'm not King Arthur, you know."
"You could have fooled me, considering the beard you donned a while back." He smirked when her face turned red at the memory. Even though he had really enjoyed his few weeks of peace and quiet, he couldn't deny that he enjoyed getting a rise out of her. Though Granger was skilled at ignoring him most of the time, when they were alone and he was targeting her, her composure cracked easily.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore," she said softly, staring at him with a certain determination he didn't quite understand. "It's rather silly, looking back on it, and I can't believe that I actually wasted my time on it, but if you really want to know, the answer is yes. I brewed Polyjuice Potion during our second year. I'm assuming your next question is why?"
Draco blinked in surprise but quickly managed to control his expression again. "I don't suppose it will hurt me to admit that I am, in fact, a little curious," he drawled, putting on a bored tone.
"We thought that you might be the Heir of Slytherin."
"What?!"
Of all the things he might have expected, this had not been on the list. Draco stared at the girl across the table, unable to keep up his act of disinterest any longer. He was baffled, and for some odd reason, he felt strangely flattered.
"I know it's ridiculous," Granger continued, frowning slightly. "But I guess it made sense at the time. After all, your entire family had been in Slytherin and we hadn't come across anyone who was more open about their distaste of Muggleborns…"
"But you claimed you had successfully brewed the Polyjuice Potion. As flattering as this confession is, Granger, and really, I'm touched," he said with obvious sarcasm. "It doesn't explain in the least why you ended up in the hospital wing for over a month."
"Your perception on the matter simply won't cease to surprise me," said Granger dryly. "But like I said, the potion was brewed successfully. It's awfully humiliating, really, but I had mistakenly used a cat's hair instead of a human hair. As you may know, and I hope you do, you cannot use the Polyjuice Potion to transform into an animal or half-breed. So my attempt turned out disastrous, and I assumed the form of a humanoid cat for about a month."
Draco only barely resisted the urge to laugh. "So you've brewed and used a very advanced potion when you were only twelve years old—"
"Thirteen, actually."
"—and probably broke a dozen school rules in the process. And all that, only a couple of weeks into our second school year."
Granger looked like she was unable to keep from smiling.
"So I was right."
This made her blink. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I was right when I said that you're not as innocent as you'd like to come across."
The Gryffindor girl sighed tiredly. "I suppose not, no."
He looked at her and couldn't help but be impressed. He would rather die than admit it to anyone—himself included—but the fact that she was able to brew such a complicated potion at such a young age and at such an early stage in her magical education unnerved him a little. "Have you used Polyjuice Potion after that?" he asked her after a brief silence.
"Yeah…" she answered softly, looking down at the table. "To change into your aunt."
The atmosphere changed drastically and he was quite sure that they were able to physically feel each other's tension. Even though Draco often claimed to hate people who tiptoed around subjects, he had, in fact, been tip-toeing around this himself ever since it had happened. It had thrown his entire world upside-down, something he wasn't ready to admit. Not yet.
"So you did break into her vault," he stated matter-of-factly, trying to keep his voice steady and emotionless.
"Yeah…" Granger said again. "But not until after we escaped from your manor. It was obvious that she was hiding something, the way she acted confirmed it."
"She tortured you… and you continued to lie... while being tortured?"
"Yeah…" she breathed, as though this conversation had eliminated every other word from her vocabulary.
She closed her eyes and a tear rolled down from her eye, trailing her cheek. Draco abruptly pushed his chair back and without even bothering to collect his belongings he marched through the common room and ran up the stairs to his dormitory.
Once upstairs he tried to catch his breath. His mind screamed that this was too much for him. They had just crossed a line. He and Granger had mastered the art of one step forward, two steps back. He could only be civil to her for so long before he snapped and threw them back considerably. It was something he secretly enjoyed because he knew how much it annoyed her.
But this time it was different. He couldn't take this back; it was too big, and for the first time in a long time, Draco admitted to himself that he was scared. Scared that he would never be able to look at Granger in the same way again. He had really done some irreversible damage.