Bugs
Hermione willed herself not to look up. Maybe if she ignored whoever decided to sit at her library table when there were at least a dozen empty ones, they’d take the hint and move.
He cleared his throat.
“Yes?” Would she lose house points if she punched Draco Malfoy in the face? Again. Did she care?
“My friends and I were wondering,” he gestured, but as far as Hermione could tell his friends had abandoned him on his suicide mission to bug her while she was reading. “What does your shirt mean?”
Hermione tried to recall what she was wearing. Pajamas. Last night’s pajamas. Fleece pants…and an extra-large t-shirt from the comic shop that says…oh god.
She glanced down at her shirt which read: MOTHMAN FUCKS
“It’s a joke.”
“I don’t get the joke.”
How to explain this? She could just give him a random Watchmen comic. Explain Mothman fanfiction? Tell him it simply means that Mothman can get it and he can’t?
“Explain it to me?” When did Malfoy’s smile become…not a smirk?
“I’ll show you. Later!” Hermione looked back to her book, assuming the conversation was over but—
“You’ll show me how Mothman fucks?”
Hermione’s cheeks flamed. “Not what I meant!”
“But…we could?”
Harry was going to die when she told him this stupid shirt got her laid.
“We could.”