brewing hatred (d.m)

Unspoken Tensions

Later that evening, the Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter of students. Golden light from the enchanted ceiling bathed the room in a warm glow, and the long tables were piled high with food. Ariana slid into her usual spot at the Slytherin table, sandwiched between Daphne and Pansy, with Draco sitting just across from her. Theo and Blaise were already deep into their own conversation, laughing about some joke from earlier in Hogsmeade.

Ariana hadn't given much thought to her brief encounter with the Ravenclaw boy, Andrew, since the group had left the Three Broomsticks. He'd been harmless enough, just a bit too flirty for her liking. But, as they settled in for dinner, something strange caught her eye.

Andrew was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, just a few rows down, and his gaze kept flicking toward her.

Pansy was the first to notice. She leaned over, smirking. "Looks like your little admirer can't stop staring."

Ariana groaned, keeping her voice low. "Merlin, not again. It was one conversation."

Daphne, ever the peacemaker, smiled gently. "He probably just finds you interesting. Not much harm in that, right?"

Ariana glanced over again, meeting Andrew's eyes for a brief second before quickly turning back to her plate. "I guess. But he's starting to make it weird."

Before Daphne could respond, Draco's chair scraped harshly against the stone floor as he shifted closer. Ariana blinked, surprised when she felt Draco suddenly pressing into her personal space, his shoulder brushing against hers. She turned her head, and he was right there—closer than he had ever been.

"Malfoy," she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady. "What are you doing?"

Draco's gaze was fixed on his plate, but his jaw was tight, his silver eyes stormy. "Just getting comfortable," he replied, though his tone was anything but casual.

Ariana narrowed her eyes, catching the sharp edge in his voice. "Comfortable? You're practically sitting in my lap."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and there was something unreadable in them—something she hadn't seen before. "Better me than some Ravenclaw who can't take a hint."

Ariana's breath caught. So, this was about Andrew again. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as Draco's words sank in, his jealousy more obvious now than it had been in the Three Broomsticks.

"Seriously?" she whispered, trying not to draw attention from the others. "You're jealous."

Draco huffed, finally breaking his gaze from hers to glance over at the Ravenclaw table, where Andrew was still casting glances in Ariana's direction. "I'm not jealous. I just don't like the idea of you entertaining idiots like him."

"Entertaining?" Ariana repeated, incredulous. "I talked to him for, what, thirty seconds? It's not like I'm planning to elope."

Draco's scowl deepened. "Doesn't seem like he got the message."

Ariana rolled her eyes, though her heart was racing faster than she'd like to admit. "You're ridiculous, Malfoy. If you're so bothered by him, just ignore him."

Draco's eyes darkened, his voice low and clipped. "I don't trust him. And neither should you."

Ariana leaned back slightly, unnerved by how close Draco still was. His knee brushed against hers under the table, and the tension between them was electric. She was used to Draco's arrogance, his snarky remarks and his relentless teasing—but this? This possessiveness? It was new, and it left her feeling unbalanced.

"Malfoy, you don't own me," she said, her voice soft but firm.

Draco's eyes flickered with something—hurt, maybe—but he covered it quickly with a smirk. "Never said I did."

But the way he leaned in, as if staking some invisible claim, said otherwise.

Across the table, Theo and Blaise seemed completely unaware of the mounting tension between their friends. Pansy, on the other hand, noticed everything. She raised an eyebrow at the proximity between Draco and Ariana but said nothing, choosing instead to snicker into her goblet.

Ariana's mind raced. Part of her wanted to shove Draco off and tell him to back away, to stop acting like a jealous idiot over something so trivial. But another part of her—the part that felt the heat radiating from him, the part that noticed how his touch sent a strange thrill through her—wasn't so sure.

Draco shifted again, this time even closer, his shoulder pressing more firmly against hers. "Just keep your distance from him," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "For your own good."

Ariana turned to face him fully now, eyes locked on his. "Why? Why do you care so much?"

For a moment, Draco didn't answer. His expression flickered—like he was trying to figure that out himself. Then, with a small smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, he replied, "I don't care, Green. Just looking out for the group."

Ariana wasn't convinced. There was something else, something deeper behind his words, and it gnawed at her.

She glanced across the hall again, where Andrew had finally turned his attention to his friends, no longer watching her. Still, Draco didn't move away. He stayed close, too close, as if he wasn't ready to let go of whatever had made him so tense.

"Whatever you say," she whispered back, more to herself than to him.

Dinner continued, with the usual chatter and noise of students filling the Great Hall. Theo and Blaise cracked jokes while Daphne and Pansy talked about their plans for the weekend. But for Ariana, the only thing she was aware of was the way Draco's knee pressed against hers under the table, and the way his presence seemed to drown out everything else around her.

As they finished eating, the tension between them didn't fade. If anything, it hung heavier in the air. Neither of them spoke about it, but as they left the Great Hall and made their way back to the Slytherin common room, Ariana couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them.

And whatever it was, it wasn't going away anytime soon.