Fire and Ice

Scattered pages

"Oi!"

Draco turned, slowly.

"Who do you think you are, you git!" the irritating voice of Ronald Weasley echoed through the near-empty corridoor. Sensing danger, two fifth-year Ravenclaws scattered. Bending down to help his fallen comrade, in this case a bushy-haired mudblood, Weasley's lanky stick-like figure almost gave the amusing impression of a twig cracked numerous times to become a sad excuse of  a boomerang. A small plethora of books and loose pages were blanketing the floor, most of the pages inked with crosses-out and symbols. Gasping, Granger began collecting the loose pages.

"Excuse me?" Draco murmered quietly but sharply. He was tired, he was annoyed, he was ashamed, he was hungry. He did not want a fight, but he didn't want to give that peasant satisfaction even more.

"You pushed Hermione!" Ron shouted, raising his voice. Despite the increase in volume, Weasley's yells only made him look scrawny in comparison, let alone fierce. The mudblood spoke, quivering.

"Ron, he didn't touch me, I'm fine, let's just go-"

Well, she's got some brains, I'll give her that. Draco thought, sneering slightly, momentarily being diverted from the pages on the floor that had interested him so much mere seconds ago.

"But you tripped! I swear I saw his foot-"

"Well, you saw wrong, I must've tripped over my own-"

"Don't be stupid, what are you trying to do, defend the ferret?! Mal- oi, Malfoy, where do you think you're going!?"

Sighing inwardly, Draco composed his exhausted expression into a haughty exterior.

"I, unlike you, have places to be. Run along with your friends, Weasley, I'm sure Potter misses his shadow."

Scarlet blood filled Weasley's freckled face. His nostrils flared like a warthog. Whipping his wand out, he hissed. The strands on Weasley's head were the colour of carrots, Draco noticed. So different from the fiery crimson locks of his sister's. STOP IT DRACO, STOP THINKIGNG ABOUT THAT BLOOD TRAITOR. Shit, Draco panicked silently, where's my wand?! oh.. that's right.

"Save it for someone who'll lose, Weasley, I doubt falling to the ground will impress your mutt," nodding to Granger. She glared. A few pimples were revealed to Draco as she pushed her mud-coloured hair back behind her ears. Almost as if she realised Draco had noticed them, she covered them immediately, blushing angrily. Ron started.

"Don't you dare call Hermi-"

"Come on, Ron, let's get to class." She murmered, emphasising her voice on "class". She gave Ron a meaningful look, and Ron nodded. Draco frowned inwardly, not willing to let them see that he'd heard their little conversation. Corouching down, Granger swept her hands across the floor, making sure she'd picked up every sheet. Noticing a fallen page tucked under a chest next to her, Draco smiled slightly. Guess the star student wasn't as thorough as everyone'd thought.

Pausing before he turned, Weasley opened his mouth as if to say some catty remark. Seemingly unable to think of one, he settled on glaring. The two Griffindoors left.

Cracking his knuckles, Draco turned, and glanced at the mudblood's page she'd left behind. Striding towards it, Draco picked it up. Remembering that the mudblood had touched it, he released it immediately. No way was he going to infiltrate his hands with dirty blood. Then again, you did have sex with a blood traitor. Shaking his head angrily, Draco grabbed the sheet and ripped it in half, a bout of satisfaction enveloping his being as he watched Granger's hard work be torn. Stuffing them into the chest, Draco wiped his hands on his trousers, and left for the opposite direction.