"Miss Granger-
"The boys," Hermione blurted, her eyes going wide. "Are Harry and Ron-
"Mr Potter and Mr Weasley are fine," the professor assured, and the younger witch released a shaky breath. "However, I do have some bad news."
Hermione noted that the woman's face was worryingly reminiscent of how it had been at Dumbledore's funeral, and she nervously edged closer, blocking out the sounds of the students returning to their dorms. "What is it?" she asked quietly. "Is everyone okay?"
"I think it's best we discus it in my office.
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He was sat on the kitchen counter again, tapping his index finger in time with the ticks.
The minute hand had just twitched to three minutes past six, and Draco eyed the clock suspiciously. Surely the contraption must have malfunctioned, but then that was almost impossible for magical clocks, yet the prospect of Granger being late was even more unfathomable. He'd finished the vegetable broth she'd left him a good hour ago, anticipating her return as he had plotted to set right his mishap from the morning.
He still couldn't believe how he'd acted, like some idiotic child finding amusement from rain-puddles. Was it any wonder she was beginning to relax in his presence when he was behaving so foolishly? Well, it had to be rectified. Knowing Gryffindors and their fetish for friendships, this would only encourage Granger to be more civil towards him. She was a Mudblood, and imprisoned or not, he was superior. She needed to remember that.
She needed to remember she was below him. Figuratively, of course.
Well, that had been the plan, but she was over an hour late. If he could think of one positive trait to associate with Granger, aside from her pesky intellect, it would be her ability to always remain punctual. He hated people who were late and disorganised.
So just where the hell was she?
The dorm was starting to feel...eerie with her absence, and he wondered again if this would constitute as paranoia. The air felt humid and he would swear her aroma was starting to fade. For reasons he refused to broach, he didn't like that idea. He was contemplating a shower to chase his sudden anxiety when the door finally clicked open.
"Where the fuck have you been?" he demanded, hopping off the counter like a pouncing wolf. She didn't even look at him. "Hey, Granger! I'm talking to you!"
Still nothing. An agitated snarl rumbled behind his tonsils as he advanced on her, cocking an eyebrow when he noticed the defeated fall of her shoulders. The angle of her body and her treacle-tinted locks covered most of her face, and he tried to manoeuvre himself to get a better look, realising then that the witch was trembling. He subconsciously slowed his steps when he heard a throaty breath escape her mouth; not quite a sob, but close.
He paused a few strides short of her, transfixed when the light caught two little droplets that fell from her veil of curls. Tears. He hadn't expected this.
He blinked and silently scolded himself. Here he was again; faltering like some feckless moron. He remembered a time when seeing Mudblood Granger cry would have caused him nothing but pleasure, and wanted to relive that. He needed to relive that lest he completely lose himself.
"I asked you a question, Granger," he continued sharply, scowling when she flinched at his voice. "Why the hell are you late-
"Now is not the time," Hermione mumbled, keeping her face hidden. "Just-
"I don't care if the time not appropriate for you," Draco countered quickly, blocking her when she tried to move past him. "I asked you a question-
"Malfoy, stop," she said, turning away from him before he could glance her face. "Let me through-
"Why the tears, Granger?" he asked, deciding some mockery might goad a satisfying reaction. "Weasley fucking Brown again?"
"Leave me alone," she gargled, her voice heavy with trapped sobs. "Please, Malfoy, just leave me-
"No," he sneered, although her please had been a little off-putting. "What are you crying about? You look bloody pitiful-
"Malfoy-
"Answer me!"
"NO!" she screamed, her head snapping up. "Leave me alone!"
His lip twitched as he examined her features; her cheeks smeared with tears, and her eyes beaten and bloodshot. Her leaking stare was distant and pleading, and his concentration fell to her quivering lips; slightly parted to reveal a line of dents from where she must have chewed the lower one to ruin. It was odd to view her like this. She was renowned for being the collected member of the Twatty Trio, but she was suddenly so fragile. Vulnerable.
He should have relished it. It should have made him feel victorious and provided him with a beautiful opportunity and inspiration to ridicule her. But it didn't. Instead, he found the scene quite...unsettling.
She took advantage of his confusion and brushed past him, evidently in an attempt to lock herself away in her room and ride out her grief in peace. But he wasn't willing to drop it. He had no idea if it was to continue his aimless taunts or feed his curiosity, but they were most certainly not finished.
"I am not done with you!" Draco shouted, marching ahead of her to block her door. "I said I'm not-
"Well, I am done!" she hurled back, choking on a strangled cry. "Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?"
"I like watching you beg," he told her quietly. Darkly. "Answer my question-
"I won't tell you again, Malfoy," she warned, although her current state didn't give the threat the usual flare. "Move, or I'll make you move-
"Go ahead," he challenged, snatching her wrist before she could rummage in her pocket. "Not so fucking mouthy without your wand, are you-
"L-let me go," she sputtered, unsuccessfully trying to reach with her other hand. "You can't use my wand anyway. It-it's charmed to-
"I guessed as much," he hushed her, twisting her arm at an awkward angle to earn a small yelp. "Now, tell me! Why the hell are you crying?"
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