Unwelcome distractions
The library was quiet, the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional scrape of a chair against the stone floor the only sounds filling the vast space. Hermione sat across from Draco at their usual table, her nose buried in Advanced Hex Theory, while he idly spun his quill between his fingers, pretending to read but mostly watching her.
It had become a habit—watching the way she chewed on the end of her quill when deep in thought, how she furrowed her brow whenever she disagreed with a passage, or the way her fingers tapped absently against the table as she formulated her arguments.
She was fascinating. Not that he’d ever say it out loud.
But then he showed up.
“Hermione,” Cormac McLaggen drawled, leaning against their table with the kind of smug confidence that made Draco’s teeth grind. “Fancy running into you here.”
Hermione blinked up at him, clearly surprised. “Oh. Hello, Cormac.”
Draco clenched his jaw at how McLaggen had used her first name—as if they were close.
Cormac didn’t even glance in Draco’s direction as he grinned down at Hermione. “Didn’t see you at dinner. You’ve been studying too much, haven’t you? You should take a break, let me take you on a walk or something. Clear your head.”
Hermione offered a polite but firm smile. “That’s kind of you, but I have a lot of work to do.”
Draco exhaled sharply, tapping his fingers against the table.
McLaggen, predictably, didn’t take the hint. He leaned in closer. “Come on, just a short break. You work too hard. You need someone to make sure you don’t burn out.”
Hermione shifted uncomfortably. “Really, I—”
“She’s busy,” Draco snapped, his voice low and sharp.
McLaggen finally looked at him, as if only just realizing he was there. “What’s your problem, Malfoy?”
“My problem,” Draco said coolly, sitting up straighter, “is that you’re clearly too thick to take no for an answer. She’s working. Which means she doesn’t have time for whatever staggeringly dull conversation you’re trying to force on her.”
McLaggen scowled. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Draco’s eyes glinted dangerously. “No, but you are interrupting our study session, and I’d rather not waste my evening listening to you try—and fail—to flirt.”
Hermione bit her lip, looking between them, but didn’t intervene.
Cormac bristled, puffing out his chest like some overgrown peacock. “You don’t speak for her, Malfoy.”
Draco smirked, leaning back. “You’re right. I don’t need to. Her disinterest is speaking for itself.”
Cormac turned to Hermione expectantly, clearly waiting for her to object. But she only sighed and said, “I really do need to focus, Cormac. Maybe another time.”
Cormac’s face darkened, but he forced a stiff smile. “Right. Another time.”
Draco watched him walk away with obvious satisfaction before turning back to Hermione, lifting a smug eyebrow. “You really ought to set better standards, Granger.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but a small, amused smile tugged at her lips. “And you really ought to work on your jealousy issues.”
Draco stiffened. “Jealousy? As if I—”
She simply shook her head and went back to her book, leaving him scowling at her—but unable to hide the heat creeping up his neck.