Harry Potter: Among Shadows and Silence

"Stop calling them-

"Why don't you go and irritate them with your presence?" he questioned with a flippant wave.

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"No, I'm bloody serious," he insisted, a little intrigued when he noticed her lips twitch. "Why the hell don't you bother Potter and Weasley instead of me-

"Because they're not bloody here!" Hermione blurted, knowing it probably wasn't the wisest thing to tell him. She instantly saw his smirk stretch and resented the boys just that little fraction more for leaving her here. With him. "They're not here," she repeated in a calmer tone, willing herself to keep her wits about her.

"Where are-

"As if I would tell you," she scoffed. "Just leave me, Malfoy, before I-

"This is classic," he chuckled, licking his lips as though he could actually taste her frustration. Apparently it was delicious. "This certainly explains a lot."

She lowered her brow. "What are you talking about?"

"Why your face looks like a smacked arse all the time," he told her simply, nearing her again with a winning swagger. "Why you look ready to slit your wrists-

Too far. "Don't be ridiculous-

"The Golden Trio separated," he mused, more to himself. "That must hurt, Granger. Knowing that the only two people who can actually stand you have up and left-

"At least I have friends-

"But they're not here, are they?" he reminded her with a telling click of his tongue. "Must be a bugger not being able to get your leg over Weasley any more."

She sputtered but drew in her mortification with a quick breath. Ron was...Ron was her friend. Nothing more. She had hoped for more and sacrificed her innocence to him before he'd left with Harry. I had been...uncomfortable, and he hadn't particularly handled it well, and it had been made painfully clear to her that a relationship with him was off her cards, although some of those pesky romantic feelings towards him seemed to linger. Maybe after all the drama of the War had settled...

"Ron and I are none of your business," she muttered defiantly, realising she had probably remained silent too long. "Stop being such a-

"Perhaps you prefer Potter then?" he accused with a disgusted snort. "Merlin, you three are pathetic."

She wanted another shot with the mug. But no. She wanted an advantage that didn't rely on her skills as a witch.

He was closer now, and she noticed briefly that he smelled of orchards and sleep. His actions were too graceful and fluent, like he had planned this all meticulously, with her humiliation as his goal. Her fingers flexed with the desire to wrap around her wand, but she wanted to deal with him without magic if she could. She couldn't very well curse him every time they argued; even it was a ridiculously enticing prospect. She was a clever girl and quick with her tongue; she could handle him. She could.

She needed a new approach, so she placed her hands on her hips and attempted to mirror his cockiness. Fair enough, he knew what made her temper tremble, but he had his weaknesses too...

"It must be difficult for you, Malfoy," she said smoothly, pleased when he cocked an eyebrow with curiosity. "Watching the people you deem inferior doing so much better than you-

"What are you-

"Harry with his Quidditch," she listed proudly, withdrawing her wand and toying with it between her nimble fingers. "Me with my grades-

"Are you implying I'm jealous, Granger?" he questioned sharply, his voice a repulsed rumble in his throat. "Because I would rather-

"It would certainly explain a lot," she reasoned casually, as though she was debating her homework with a friend. She tapped her wand coolly against her palm; nothing offensive, just a little gesture to remind him that she had magic on her side. "All hatred stems from something. I mean, we have managed to accomplish a fair bit in the last six years-

"Fucking, well done to you-

"And as far as I can recall," she carried on, ignoring his sarcastic hiss with ease. "You have yet to do anything particularly...interesting with your life, Malfoy-

"Shut it, Granger-

"And anything you've tried to do," Hermione pushed, unable to stop herself now that impending victory was warming her bones. "You have always failed miserably-

"Shut your-

"I remember the time in second year," she went on, rubbing her chin in an almost pensive way. "When you fell off your broom and lost the Quidditch game to Harry. Wasn't your father there?"

He snarled and went to grab her, but when she flicked her wand towards him, he halted. "I warned you not to discus my father-

"And I bet he wasn't too pleased when he found out your grades were second to a Mudblood," she said, noting that his scowl hardened when she used the derogatory term for herself.

"Don't talk about my father," he repeated, his voice low.

But she faltered when she noticed it wasn't particularly threatening; more irritated and perhaps a little...wounded? That was unsettling.

"Then don't talk about my friends," she murmured finally, watching his jaw clench as an unvoiced agreement was passed between them. He looked a little more human then, and she wanted to punch him again. "Are you going to leave me in peace, or do I have to put you in the room myself?"

He growled, but to her utter surprise and bafflement, he actually moved away from her with a couple of backward strides. His raincloud stare didn't leave her though, just stabbed her like he was trying to melt her away through will alone.

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