Draco Malfoy - Sensible Man
Granger stood there surrounded by her admirers in the crowded pub, a charming blush colouring the high points of her cheeks and her mouth arranged just-so in a perfect, demure smile.
It made Draco fucking sick.
A man leant down and brushed aside the untamed mass of her curls so that he could whisper in her ear; she admonished him, gently. Draco felt he may vomit into his pint.
“What the fuck is all that about?” he scoffed, gesturing broadly at the small zoo Hermione had acquired. “Acting shy and humble; as if she doesn’t think she’s the gods’ gift to wizardkind.” He tore his eyes away from the spectacle, disgusted. “It’s revolting. She should at least own her hubris, instead of acting like she’s better than the rest of us.”
Apparently a glutton for punishment, he stole another glance at Saint Granger and her congregation. Her most ardent worshipper had stepped back, at least, but stared at her with a longing that made Draco want to wring his pathetic little neck. “She could step on that prick, and he would thank her and ask for more, if he had any sense.”
“Do you have any sense, Draco?” Theo mused from beside him.
Draco snorted. “Of course I’ve got sense, you wanker.” He jerked his thumb at Granger’s flock. “More than that lot, for sure.”
Theo hummed as he tossed down the rest of his stout. “The trick now is getting her to step on you.”
“Right, I—hold on.” Draco scowled down at the dregs of his pint, willing the heat at the tips of his ears to cool. “I’ve got the sense to see through her shite, is what I meant.”
His friend just smiled knowingly. “Sure you did, mate.”