Thorn
{ CHAPTER THREE }
- Draco -
Who does Granger think she is?
Draco was fuming.
What irked him more was knowing she used his own words against him — and her audacity to offer her help!Help with what?! Memorizing her textbooks?! Not all magic can just be learned from books or classes. He scoffed. As if he would ever need her help.
He could hear his father now, ‘What else do you expect from Mudbloods?’
A walking textbook she is, Draco mused with a careless roll of his eyes. She had taunted his intelligence, acting condescendingly sweet about it, and her ability to turn cutthroat were all not lost on him. He didn’t like to admit that her sharp attitude was cunning; much like her brain, despite how much of a know-it-all it made her, and the satisfaction it brought him to call her unoriginal was short-lived because of that fact. Dare I say, if not for her blood, maybe she could have been in Slytherin.
Hermione Granger was certainly a thorn in his side. A thorn he now found himself constantly watching for — but it’s her own fault, she started this. He wouldn’t pay any attention to her if she simply minded her own business, he had reasoned with himself. He would always find her staring first, studying him.
His father had warned him before leaving for Hogwarts that Muggleborns were freaks who defied Pureblooded beliefs, and the blood traitors who welcomed them into the world of magic were no better. She is a freak! Just like Potter and Weasley, and all the other Gryffindorks they associate with.
Draco was already in a sullen mood at finding out Potter wasn’t expelled after yesterday’s events, too. Her pettiness was just the icing on top, and here he thought she’d stick to the safety of the Gryffindor tower again just to avoid him, only to be proven wrong now that she was actually in his sight. But he had to admit that getting under her skin was a great way to pass the time between his studies and sleeping. He couldn’t play Quidditch for another year — but Potter’s just been made the youngest Quidditch player in a century. Ridiculous!
So, that left him with filling his time elsewhere until then — at least Granger is always ready to react.
Except she got the last laugh this time, and he was the one festering about it. He scowled into the first draft of his Potions essay, but instead of letting her laughter taunt him some more, Draco skimmed through his books to distract himself in work. While it was no secret that Professor Snape was partial to the students of Slytherin House, also his House, Snape had assigned the essay with a broad range of topics to choose from so students could find a particular interest that would play to their strengths. He was simply a brilliant professor.
While his father had instilled in him some basic knowledge regarding ingredients and techniques prior to his acceptance at Hogwarts, Draco found that his godfather had far more extensive knowledge on the subject than Lucius Malfoy himself. Where his father was skilled at brews, he was no Snape, and Draco wanted to make his professor just as proud. If not his father, he only wanted to learn from the best - anything else was just a waste of time.
He was sitting there, tapping his quill between paragraphs and brushing up on the twelve uses of dragon's blood when his mind began to wander. He found the information useful, despite their curriculum not requiring this topic for another few weeks, and Draco thoroughly enjoyed knowing more than his peers where potions were concerned. Granger can't get that sort of experience from her books!
Speaking of Granger... She still had her textbook propped up like a wall between them, and for once, he recognized her presence by her silence. She hadn’t shifted in her seat nor moved, not even a huff or a dramatic sigh. It looked like her notes hadn’t been touched, and her quill wasn't furiously scribbling away. Malfoy watched and waited. Nothing. What is she doing?
Unsure of how much time passed, Draco glanced around the library.
It was almost deserted now, and he presumed most had left to get ready for dinner. The sky outside was a golden haze, almost touching nightfall. His stomach growled loudly at the thought. I can still make it, it's early enough. His gaze cut back over at her quiet desk. Does she always sit like that? She has horrible posture... or is she sleeping?
Draco slowly packed up his things and rose from his seat, a grin spreading across his face. Oh, this is going to be so good if she’s sleeping… she'll miss dinner for another night, except this time maybe she’ll sleep right through it.
He couldn't believe that of all the places, she'd somehow managed to bore herself to sleep in the Hogwarts library. He could hear her haughty tone reciting from her Hogwarts: A History copy in his head again. I'd pay galleons to see her face if she wakes up to a pitch-black library.
He was rather hungry though.
This might be too good to pass up... he thought, watching her again. It would be worth missing dinner, but that's assuming she doesn't wake up till well past. I could have my fill of dinner and return before she wakes up. Unless she does. Madam Pince would likely find her before leaving for the night, as well. Draco rolled his eyes at the whole idea. I'm not missing dinner for disappointment. The Goody Gryffindors seemed to attract sheer, dumb luck, and for that, he wasn't about to set himself up for yet another letdown today.
She can sleep right through it all for all I care.
Plus, he was doing her House a favor, really. Not that he had any interest in helping Gryffindors one bit, but she can’t endlessly bore her House to death with more trivial Quidditch knowledge she got from too many books, and honestly Gryffindor should thank me for it. Draco slung his bag over his shoulder and strolled past her desk.
Her small form was slumped forward. She is sleeping!
From where he stood, taking her in one last time before he laughed about her again at dinner, he could just see the side of her face through strands of her obnoxious hair. If not for her closed eyes, he could see the slow, even rise and fall of her breaths. Her expression actually looked softer. Draco snorted. It isn’t scrunched up from giving any and everybody an attitude.
The grin on his face grew wicked then, and he allowed himself to quietly laugh as he passed. If one good thing came from today, I am absolutely going to hold this over her head the next time she gets swotty with me.As if her hair isn’t always a tangled mess, he couldn’t imagine it possibly getting worse, even from falling asleep on her desk. She would wake up with the worst aches from the way she was slouched. 20 points to Slytherin if she drools in her sleep.
He got an idea then. Stopping at a nearby shelf, he pulled out a scrap of paper and his quill, scribbling a short note out.
When he was done writing, he folded it up, charming it into a paper crane to land on her desk for her to find when she woke up, and Draco turned away, smirking to himself as he made his way down to the Great Hall for dinner.
He couldn't be bothered to school his expression the entire way, and it only disappeared when he sat down next to Crabbe at the Slytherin table, with Goyle across from them; they were both stuffing themselves stupid while he grabbed food for his own plate.
Draco shook his head. They’re as presentable as dragon dung… but they do as they’re told.
The conversation he’d had with Granger that first night in the library revisited him from time to time, and this happened to be one of those times. He definitely didn’t consider them friends, just useful. They’re fathers all grew up together and he’d known them since before Hogwarts. They followed him around like dogs and did what he said, they were at his complete disposal. The reappearance of that conversation brought him back to his objective.
“You’ll never guess what I witnessed on my way here, boys,” Draco said, smirking once again. She let her guard down. “Granger fell asleep in the library! Laying across her books and slumped over like a goblin."
Goyle and Crabbe barely breathed between guffaws and bites of more food, and Draco was relieved for the presence of Theo and Blaise sitting down to join them. Blaise began filling his plate, and Theo asked, "What's this about goblins?"
Draco rolled his eyes. Always selective hearing from his childhood mate. "Not goblins. Granger!"
"Oh," Theo shrugged, "what about her?"
"She fell asleep in the library," Draco said, "it seems the know-it-all finally got bored of herself."
"So, you left her there?" Blaise asked, pressing his lips together to hide a smirk of his own. Draco nodded, and Blaise scoffed. "Didn't she miss dinner yesterday, too?"
"Paying attention to Granger, too, Blaise?" Theo asked. Both their heads whipped to him.
"Too?" Draco questioned.
"Hard to miss her head of hair," Blaise casually dismissed. Theo waved him off but grinned at Draco's displeased expression though.
"Why are we talking about her anyway?" Theo went on, pausing to take a bite of food while they waited for him to continue. "I mean, after the way she confronted you during flying lessons Malfoy, you've taken an interest in scowling in her direction, or taunting her in classes. You know she's Muggleborn, yeah?"
Draco sneered at him. "Of course, I know she is! I have no personal interest, Nott. Father warned me about Muggleborns, and she fits the description. They all need to be put in their place."
"Well, she's here at Hogwarts with us, so," Theo grinned, "we best get used to her."
"Whose side are you on, Nott?" Blaise asked, raising a brow in Theo's direction. "Softening up for Gryffindors already?"
"Don't be a fool, I was sorted into Slytherin with you lot for a reason!"
"Well, you sound like a Hufflepuff!" Blaise scoffed.
"And here I thought you were quiet," Theo shook his head.
They bickered back and forth throughout the rest of the evening, and by the time dinner was over Draco had had enough of it. Though it was entertaining to hear, Draco just wanted the day to finally end. He had had a rubbish day, and barely got any work done in the library...
Walking back to the Slytherin common room, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, Draco spoke the password and started down the dungeon stairs. He had no idea what the two behind him were even talking about. Not that it mattered, he hadn't been listening, and they weren't speaking coherently amongst their dumb cackling. Draco finally shrugged them off when they headed toward a Wizard's chess table, and he was glad for it.
He would have some peace and quiet in the dormitories as long as they keep wanting rematches. Watching those two play was painful, at best. Blaise will probably study more in the common room for a while,and who the hell knows what Theo will get up to. His longest childhood friend, and yet so unpredictable. Draco sighed the moment the door to their shared room closed. He was finally alone.
He missed his rooms back home terribly.
He'd never had a problem socializing - his parents saw to that thoroughly. But nobody could disturb him in the Manor, the wards wouldn't allow it, and nor would Lucius Malfoy for that matter. His rooms allowed him to escape and not have to utter a single word to anybody but himself or a house elf he summoned. He knew Hogwarts had elves, and he could certainly summon one if needed, but he simply just wanted to get ready for bed and shut the curtains.
I'll have to write mother and father tomorrow, they'll want to know how Potter wasn't expelled. Perhaps he'd mention that yet another Weasley's a blood traitor, and that Granger - a muggleborn witch to boot - was the bane of my existence. His father would certainly have to call into question Dumbledore's obvious favoritism towards Gryffindors - three particular Gryffindors, at that.
He crossed the hall to the lavatory, heading for the sinks. Splashing his face with cold water, he attempted to scrub away his frustrations, though Granger’s swotty laughter was harder to erase.
Draco groaned. Bed. Just get to bed.
He pulled the curtains closed around the four-poster bed and cast a quick Muffliato charm in case the others finally decided to retire for the evening. His father had taught him that charm at the young age of five; he'd heard it enough time over the years from both his parents to perfect it in passing, but his mother would cast it to keep him from eavesdropping about his gifts, or shameless gossip with the other wives in his parent's circles, whereas his father would cast it to silence him from whining, or anyone else he chose not to listen to.
Never mother, though. He wouldn't dare, and for that Draco respected his father a great deal.
His parents were a force to be reckoned with. Wealthy, pureblooded, and both descendants of two of the most powerful names in the aristocratic hierarchy. Lucius Malfoy was not one to be crossed, and Narcissa Malfoy (née Black) was unlike any other witch of her caliber. There was no pair better - and being the only heir to the Black and Malfoy names, Draco strived to make his parents proud.
So, it vexed him to no end to be in competition with blood traitors and muggleborns all because of the Headmaster's special treatment of people like Potter and his friends. Though Weasley was hardly on the same level, but he was associated with Potter and Granger, and therefore, lumped in by default.
His thoughts plagued him, while Draco stared up at the canopy and willed sleep to take him. He was certain that hours had passed already, yet he was still wide awake with no end in sight. Draco sat up and decided on a visit to the common room to write to his parents. Perhaps spilling my thoughts onto parchment will help me settle down a bit.
His mother always taught him to write letters out, even if you don't intend to send them, she'd say. It was how his mother always kept herself together, and he often found that it helped him, too. He began writing:
Father,
I had to write to you tonight; I couldn't sleep and while I've settled into Hogwarts, it's hardly been pleasant.
Headmaster Dumbledore favors Gryffindor, and Potter and his friends especially. Professor McGonagall dragged him out of our flying lessons the other afternoon after he was caught flying on his broom, completely ignoring Madam Hooch's stern warning to stay on the ground or be expelled. She had to bring Longbottom to the hospital wing; the oaf fell off his broom while he was barely on it to begin with! I may have goaded Potter into it, but he still actually went and did it!
He wasn't expelled for it, either! In fact, he was made Seeker for Gryffindor House - can you believe it!? The youngest Quidditch player in a century, at that. Potter is the only one who can break the rules and be rewarded for it! Dumbledore's favoritism is insulting if you ask me.
It's disgusting the filth Dumbledore lets through these doors, speaking of which, Potter's made friends with Arthur Weasley's youngest son. Another blood-traitor Weasley at this school... and Granger, a muggleborn! The worst of them all is that girl, Granger. I've had the unfortunate luck of running into her all over school, and she's in every one of my classes! She has to answer every question our professor's ask as well - I've taken to tallying how many times she raises her hand in our classes, it's ridiculous!
Granger fights me on everything I say and claims to know better than me on most subjects. Potions isn't her strongest class though, I'm top of the class for that matter. She's bossy and crass, and unbearably shrewd. You were right, father, Muggleborns think they're magical prowess lies in the books. It's egregious! It's pathetic how much she follows Potter and Weasley around like a dog, too.
I haven't been able to focus on my schoolwork when she's around the library, either. And she's always there! She makes a fuss about where to sit all the time, and she takes so many books out so none of the other students can complete their own work! She's a menace, father! How am I supposed to get any work done if she insists on being insufferable? Something needs to be done.
Give mother my best, I will see you both for hols.
D.M.
-x-
Draco set out to the owlery the next morning after breakfast, tying off the letter to his parents to the leg of his eagle owl. He gave it a treat and watched as the owl took off without delay.
The owlery was a dingy place, and hundreds of pairs of eyes stuck to him as he crossed the distance back to the threshold, taking careful steps. He had told Crabbe and Goyle not to wait for him, opting for once not to deal with their foolish behaviors. He wanted to enjoy his alone time, however short it was, and they couldn't be trusted with menial things like making sure they sent off his letters with the right owl. They'd likely use one of the Hogwarts owls and get it killed trying to advance the Manor wards. No, he would simply do it himself.
Draco was glad to waste no further time in it once his letter was off, and he headed back to the castle to his first class of the day - double Potions with Professor Snape. He was looking forward to it; not only was Potions his favorite, but it was the one class he wasn't usurped by a certain witch.
Sure, she was decent at Potions from a contextual point. She knew a valid thing or two from her textbooks, and paid attention to the lessons despite Professor Snape's indifference toward her in class, but from the practical standpoint she struggled with execution. Her technique was unstable, and oftentimes it reflected in her brews.
While Draco was certain it was only a matter of time before she perfected it - being the know-it-all she is - he enjoyed watching her frustrations grow when a potion didn't exude the right color or smell, and somehow her unruly hair always managed to grow ten times its normal size.
The air was cool on his walk back to the castle and the light breeze broke him from his thoughts. Students littered the courtyard, mostly the fifth and sixth years killing time. He held his head high, his proud smirk plastered to his face, all while ignoring their watchful eyes as he went. He knew exactly why they stared. Even as a first year, his name held weight around this school.
Everyone knew the Malfoys. Conversations became whispered words whenever he passed, and fear radiated off even the sturdiest of Prefects in his House. Nobody dared to cross the Malfoys, and he loved just how powerful that made him amongst the snakes, or anyone else for that matter.
They didn't dare hex nor haze him being a firstie, either. While some of his peers weren't so lucky to avoid the older Slytherins games, Draco only needed to remind them who his father was, and they would second guess their foolish choices.
He thoroughly enjoyed watching the fear in an older student's eyes when he threw around his father's name or status. While he had no older House mates to report on currently, all it would take was another letter to old Lucius Malfoy to sort things out. It was yet another reason why he was owling his father. He was dealing with untouchable Gryffindors, and Dumbledore's blatant show of favoritism needed to be stopped before it got worse. Starting with Potter and the swot.
xXx
It was the arrival of the post a few days later, and the obscenely large parcel carried in by six owls, set down in front of Potter, that garnered the attention of the entire Great Hall - including the whole of Slytherin house sending sneers and glares in his direction. Draco included. The returning letter from his parents was forgotten.
Saint Potter, back at the center of attention.
Draco watched as he and Weasley nearly scrambled out of the Great Hall to open it, and Draco sent Crabbe and Goyle ahead to the doors to stop them. He caught up, seizing the package; the look of annoyance on Potter's face was well worth the inevitable interaction.
Feeling its weight, Draco stifled his own annoyance. He was no fool - tossing the package back at Potter, Draco rebuked with a scowl, "That's a broomstick. You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."
For a moment, he wondered if this was yet another show of special treatment from Hogwart's own headmaster, but Weasley's snotty voice pulled him out of his thoughts, "It's not any old broomstick - it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got back home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" He exchanged a smug grin with Potter, and said, "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."
"What would you even know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Draco snapped. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."
That ought to shut him up. Though they were hindered by Professor Flitwick's sudden appearance then. His squeaky voice carried over Draco's shoulder, and he asked, "Not arguing, I hope, boys?"
He let out an exasperated sigh at the untimely interruption. Of all the professors to step in... he sincerely would have preferred Professor Snape. Draco leveled an icy glare back in their direction.
"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor."
Professor Flitwick's eyes lit up, beaming, and he said, "Yes, yes that's right!" Case and point - figures! At least Professor Snape would have actually done something about this! "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"
"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir,” said Potter, failing to hide his laughter as he met Draco's stare, “And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I’ve got it,” he added.
Draco watched the scene before him with rage in his chest. So, Professor McGonagall is responsible... and I bet Dumbledore approved it, too! Father will absolutely want to hear about this. One would think they're trying to boost Gryffindor house to win the House Cup. It was pathetically obvious from Dumbledore before, but Professor McGonagall is just as biased. What treachery! But by the time he had finished his thought, the two boys were ascending the stairs to Gryffindor tower, and neither bothered to stifle their laughter one bit.
He ground his teeth and turned away - oh, bloody hell! - in time to see Granger, of all people, running past him after the boys and up the stairs. She had clearly witnessed their bickering.
Draco rolled his eyes, and he could just hear her voice from atop the stairs as she went. She was shrilly scolding them about rules, and if Draco didn't know any better, it almost sounded like she wasn't siding with them on this matter. He would unpack that later. Instead, he headed for Herbology with Crabbe and Goyle loyally in tow.
-x-
His classes passed slowly, but Draco was glad for the distraction. Focusing on his schoolwork forced him to forget his woes, despite sharing classes with the three dunderheads in question. He occasionally rolled his eyes at Granger's overly enthusiastic need to answer every question, and he tallied how many times she raised her hand - sixty-three times in Transfiguration alone!
He would need another inkwell at this rate.
It did, however, bring him great satisfaction when a professor would call on somebody who was not Granger, and the furrow between her brow grew deeper when she had to keep the answer to herself.
He managed to answer a few questions himself, pleased when she'd shoot him an aggrieved glare for having been correct. It's a classroom, not a pedestal, Granger. No need to be the know-it-all you are all the time, save some answers for the other students.
Maybe then you'd actually have friends. Speaking of...
Potter and Weasley were a few rows away from where she sat, barely paying attention to the lesson as expected. Weasley was practically sleeping into his book, and Potter was scribbling something into the margin of his - unlikely anything useful to his studies, I'm sure.
Other than after their scuffle outside the Great Hall this morning, Draco hadn't seen her following them around like the first couple of days they'd arrived at Hogwarts. He had noticed she also wasn't paying any mind to her so-called friends, except maybe once or twice if she were scolding them in that bossy tone of hers. Maybe her swotty attitude has driven them away, too. Unsurprising.
So unsurprising in fact, that Draco expected to find her in the library immediately after classes let out - and of course she is. She dropped her bag onto a desk, rather carelessly, and headed for the shelves. Her habits are far too predictable.
Draco crossed the distance to a desk nearby and set his bag down on one of the chairs beside it, also heading into the throng of ancient, dusty shelves. She wasn't hard to find, already shoving her nose into a thick, leather-bound book she had pulled from a set. It was a title on levitation spells - in light of Professor Flitwick's next lesson, ever the diligent bookworm.
He heard her groan into the pages, before shutting it with a snap. Her library etiquette needs improvement. As if hearing his thoughts, she looked up at him with great disdain.
"Can't you leave alone for once?" She asked, exasperated. Her tiny fingers barely fit around the binding as she held the book against her chest and met his eyes, taking a step back. "Why must you burden me in the place I enjoy?"
"I could ask you the same," Draco scoffed.
"You always seek me out," she deadpanned, turning back towards the books to continue her search. Draco remained rooted to his resting place against the shelf while she ignored him, muttering quietly to herself the book titles and a quick 'interesting' or 'no'. He found it amusing that she tried to act like he didn't exist, but by the way she kept peering out of the corner of her eye he knew his presence was grating on her nerves.
"Do you always talk to yourself, Granger?" He asked. She leveled him with a hard stare.
"Well, it is better than talking to you, Malfoy, and in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not talking to you."
"What would you call this then?"
"Another unfortunate crossing of paths?" She replied sweetly, annoyance lacing the edge of her tone. She turned her back on him and began skimming her fingers along the shelves. Draco followed her into the next aisle, as she added, "After your little trick the other night, I don't intend to get caught up in your antics again."
"My trick?" Draco asked. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
"The trophy room." Hermione retorted as if it were obvious. He perked up instantaneously at this information. So, Granger followed Potter and Weasley to the trophy room that night. Interesting… were they caught?
“Run into Filch, did you?” He didn’t even try to hide his amusement.
"Just barely," she grumbled. "So, if you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone before I decide to hex you and your friends!"
All roar and no bite, she's about as threatening as a kneazle. He had to admit that she had a temper he found exciting, though. Draco scoffed. "It'd be three against one, Granger, but I'd love to see you try."
"I'll take my chances," she said, rolling her eyes.
"I could make it easier on you, and duel you myself," Draco supplied, reveling in the way she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Though I'm certain your skills are nowhere near as exceptional as mine."
"You're so sure of yourself, Malfoy," she smiled. If only she were taller, she would actually be staring him down, but Draco found it laughable that she tried. He smirked in response, but it swiftly fell when she added, "it's quite disgusting, actually."
She left him standing in between the shelves, replaying her words, while she strolled past him carrying her stack of books. Her own triumphant smirk got under his skin far worse than he was willing to admit - there was something enticing about playing with her intelligence, but it always seemed to burn him. There was no getting the last word with her, and every attempt he'd made thus far was irrefutable evidence of that.
And he still had to grab his own reading materials but was certain she had at least half of them checked out for herself already. This bloody witch... Draco stalked back to the desks, finding her bushy hair immediately. He picked up his bag, ignoring her glare as he sat himself down in the chair across from her. The disconcerted expression on her face matched his own. She pressed her lips together for a moment, and he could practically see the gears in her brain forming her thoughts.
"Must we go through this every time?" She asked hotly. "I don't want your company, Malfoy."
"Yes, well, the feeling is mutual, Granger," Draco sneered, "but as it is, you have practically every book I require for my own work."
"Here's a suggestion: come back later."
"And I'm certain you'd still be here hogging all the books," he snapped. "In case you hadn't noticed, which I suppose you couldn't between your stack of books and your untamable hair, that there are other students here for the same reasons you are. Except they don't grab every book they come across. You're quite selfish."
"That's rich coming from you," She snorted. Draco bit back his irritation. She was nearly impossible to deal with, and her attitude certainly made it harder - how is that even possible!?She refuses to see the predicament because she chooses to be selfish instead. Draco crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. Meeting her at her level only seemed to elevate her higher; the Slytherin in him had to admire that, despite how maddening it was when used against him.
"I'll make a deal with you. Give me half of your stack," he demanded, holding a hand up as she opened her mouth to protest, "the books you're not using yet, and I will return them if they prove useless."
"Why would I want them back if they're useless then?" She asked, clearly unamused with this suggestion.
"Don't you read everything anyway?" He rolled his eyes, "I'm being reasonable, and I hardly share so if I were you, I'd consider what I've offered, or I'll hex your precious draft into dust."
Her eyes hardened at his threat, but she begrudgingly considered his words and complied with a quick nod.
She returned to her notes, and Draco wasted no time browsing the titles she'd pulled. He skimmed through the pages silently, and the sound of her scribbling out notes was soothing compared to her usual sighs or snobby comments. He would never utter it out loud, but they seemed to have come to an understanding. For now, at least I can get my work done and she can't hex me for resorting to looting a bloody book out of her possession.
He didn't dare question the position this put him in for the time being - he was only meeting her standards out of necessity; he was absolutely not giving her the upper hand over him by being civil for once. She was still an insufferable swot, he was still waiting for the opportunity to knock her down a peg, and this current stipulation did grant him the proximity to figure out just how to do so. Draco watched her, momentarily forgetting the material in front of him. Her face was far too close to the page of her book, and he briefly thought about grabbing it to see what she could possibly be so intrigued by, when her voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Staring, Malfoy," she sing-songed without looking up. Her quill was no longer moving as she looked up to meet his bemused expression, raising her eyebrows in question. Draco cleared his throat, annoyed at having been caught. He wasn't staring... he was simply gathering information. Not that he would defend himself to her.
"I wasn't staring," Draco grumbled, looking back down at his book. He caught the look she gave him that told him she didn't believe him, and because of that his focus was shot. He tried to read, and then re-read the same page, but instead of absorbing the words in front of him, his thoughts kept drifting back to her presence.
Briefly, he thought back to the letter he wrote to his parents a few days ago - specifically recalling the details he'd written to his father about Granger, and her proclivity for being unbearably shrewd. He had written far too long a letter by the time he was done recounting her, and her big attitude. She seemed different today though. Quieter. Maybe ignoring Potter and Weasley has already been a good thing for her.
"Why haven't you been speaking to Potter or Weasley?" Draco blurted casually, gauging her reaction. Her shoulders tensed, and her fingers tightened around her quill. She looked momentarily upset, before letting out a heavy sigh.
"Why do you care, Malfoy?"
"I don't," he recovered, shrugging. She didn't look convinced, or willing to answer his inquiry. He figured as much. "I'm just surprised you're not still following the around."
"I don't follow them around," she ground out. His suggestion otherwise clearly irritated her. "They're both going to lose Gryffindor House hard earned points by sneaking around the castle at night, and they seem to think they're being rewarded somehow for breaking the rules! Harry was given that broom, yet Ronald thinks he's just as entitled to it because he's friends with Harry so now they both act like they're above the rules and too good for everyone else. But especially Ronald!"
Draco couldn't say he was surprised to learn this about Weasley - it's likely the first non-hand-me-down item he's ever seen, and being friends with Potter is clearly his advantage. So, they had iced her out, too. He originally believed it only was her attitude that drove them away, but perhaps it was a combination of the two.
"Welcome to the club, Granger. Both snubbed by Potter."
"I wasn't snubbed!" She hissed. Standing up, she began to gather her belongings and wasted no time cutting their conversation short. "Keep the books, Malfoy. I'll just finish my work elsewhere."
She stormed out of the library without another word, and before Draco could see the hurt across her face.