Began: March 7, 2017
Published: March 12, 2017
Edited: -

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"Well," Draco tuts disapprovingly, internally pleased when he sees Hermione's fist curl at her side, "You're looking well. At least, I see the bird's nest has been removed." Her knuckles turn white, and Draco suddenly finds himself leached onto the newest goal of seeing just how far he could push her before she cracked.

Alright, so maybe there was a line between harmless teasing and just being an arse.
And maybe he crossed said line everyday.

The thing was, he found Hermione's reactions interesting. Her passionate nature conflicted with her "good girl" character in times like these, and he always found himself drawn as to which side she would take each time.

After all, he had learned the art of masking emotions since birth, and here was a girl who never failed to show every emotion on her face.

And also because he was an arse.
He wasn't going to deny the truth. 

Draco's thoughts are interrupted when Hermione finally replies, clearly holding herself back from cursing him out, "Do not instigate me. I am the one who has the advantage here, as you should know if you deserved the title as second best."

Damn.
She could've been a great Slytherin.

That is, if she wasn't such a bloody Gryffindor. Or a—well, perhaps it was for the best. If she had been a muggleborn in Slytherin, Voldemort would have definitely noticed. And the Dark Lord's gaze was never a good place to be under.

But she obviously realized the fact that she was in control of his future and her emphasis on his school ranking was more than just putting salt on the wound. It was throwing a sectumsempra at him and then dumping him in the bloody Dead Sea.

Draco was just about to wonder if he had unintentionally made a pun, when Hermione continues to speak, cutting off his thoughts, "You get three chances. Three strikes, Malfoy, or you're going to Azkaban."

Every part of him is frozen as he stares at her. What could he do? Sarcasm was always his method of comeback, but Hermione was in no mood for that.

Perhaps...

"Aw, you hold me at such high regards," Draco gives a grin, but mentally recoiling from his words, "But childhood feelings are just that. Childhood. We're adults now, aren't we?" He raises an eyebrow at her, knowing that her pride wouldn't allow her to admit that she was still bitter about his past taunts and mockery. After all, he had used that specific wording to trap her into choosing either to bite back her sharp tongue or to imply she was still a child.

And Hermione was smart enough to see this, judging by her narrowed eyes. "Yes," she practically spits, annoyed that she couldn't push it any further without calling herself a child, "We are adults. Does that mean you no longer go to your daddy dearest to get what you want?"

Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes, and even though he would normally enjoy a game of underhanded insults, that was still too fresh of a wound to not flinch. "No," he answers with a sharp tone, "As you should well know. Or did I overestimate your intelligence?" He clicks his tongue, continuing with a shake of his head, "They do say you become the company you keep. Too bad it was the Weasel who brushed off of you and not the other way around. God knows he needs it."

Hermione's eyes flares, but she keeps the sugar sweet tone (which Draco would later admit was somewhat impressive). "Well unless you've become a mindless follower like the company you kept during Hogwarts," she says, eyes wide with feigned innocence, "I don't see how that's true." She gives an exaggerated pause, before her face lights up with another facade of surprise, "Oh wait. You did. I guess in the end, as slow as you'd like to call Ron, he's better than the snake eyed egg shell you decided to follow."

Draco almost growls, and it takes all of the training he had received to pull himself back. "You know nothing," he finally says, voice low and devoid of emotion and frankly, more frightening to Hermione than if he had shouted, "But how can I expect the high and mighty Muggleborn princess of naivety to understand?"

Finally at a loss for words, Hermione's caustic voice dies in her throat and instead, what comes out is a cracked one. "I know enough," she swallows, clearing her throat to continue with a stronger voice. "I know that you made all the wrong choices and that is why you are where you are now. Here, and relying on me to salvage what is left of your life."

Draco smirks, just as he always did, but somehow it wasn't the same at all. Perhaps it was how dull his eyes were, but suddenly the emptiness on his face wasn't due to a mask anymore.

"It's funny if you think I actually had a choice." He replies before turning and going down the hallway. A door closes, and it takes a couple hours before she wonders how he knew where the guest bedroom was.

But that was another story.