sweet talk ↯ draco malfoy

FIFTEEN

FIFTEEN | the death of me

GLIDING INTO THE Great Hall, Rosalie has a bit more pep in her step. The events of the early morning had lifted her spirits. Knowing that she had a piece of information that no one wanted her to have gave Rosalie a leg up.

She knew that Harry and his friends wouldn't bother her any longer ⎯ and she hoped that this meant they wouldn't bother Draco either.

Given that it seemed like everyone believed the two were together, Rosalie greatly hoped that they would not give Draco the same courtesy they gave her.

Rosalie never understood what had happened between Draco and Harry to make them hate each other the way that they did. She knew that Draco wasn't the nicest person to Harry ⎯ to anyone really. But she didn't know why he took it to the level that he did when around Harry.

Rosalie herself wasn't the biggest fan of Harry and she had made this clear an abundance of times, but she was never as malicious as Draco. She ignored Harry and he did the same to her ⎯ it was their unspoken rule.

But, after finding out about Harry's secret defense group, Rosalie knew that Harry would be paying much closer attention to her than he had before.

Shaking her head of her thoughts, Rosalie's eyes found the mop of blonde hair that she sought out for in ever room. She threw herself down into the seat next to him, her eyes glancing over the unfolded roll of parchment in front of him.

"Are you finally doing your Transfiguration essay?" Rosalie smiles, watching Draco's face turn a pale pink.

"I've been busy," he shrugs, setting his quill down before turning to Rosalie. When he does, Rosalie noticed the badge on his robe.

A badge for Professor Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad.

"You've got to be kidding me," Rosalie laugh, reaching forward to poke at the symbol on Draco's chest.

"She offered extra credit," Draco pushes Rosalie's hand away gently, but she caught the look he gave her hand. The hand that was permanently scarred. "And catching Potter never fails to bemuse me."

"So, first you're an entitled git and now you're a snitch?" Rosalie ticks, shaking her head at Draco. "And to think you could get any worse!"

Draco rolls his eyes, a light chuckle emitting from his chest. He knows Rosalie is kidding by the mocking tone in her voice, the smile on her face, and the bright look in her blue eyes.

A set of eyes that Draco couldn't get enough of.

"And you're just a daft dimbo," Draco comments back, a small smile growing across his lips.

It was moments like these that made him forget all the bad in the world. It made him forget about the problematic family he was born into. It made him forget the inevitable.

"So, you wouldn't want a daft dimbo like yours truly assisting you in that essay you've got there?" Rosalie asks, nodding towards the roll of parchment that lay forgotten on the table before him.

"Well, you aren't as daft as you look," Draco admits with a chuckle. "And you happen to be brilliant in Transfiguration."

Rosalie reaches forward, picking the parchment up from the table. Her eyes skim across his messy scrawl, using his quill to make changes in his essay.

"You should think about taking a class in penmanship, Draco," Rosalie comments, squinting closer at a sentence that is nearly illegible.

"Shove off," Draco rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder into hers. "I've been pressed for time lately."

"Umbridge running you thin?" Rosalie jokes, glancing between Draco and his work.

"She has us patrolling the hallways with Filch every night," he shrugs, watching Rosalie make a few more corrections to his paper.

"What for?" She asks, her bottom lip between her teeth as she rereads his work.

"That would be strictly confidential," Draco says, his eyes abandoning the quill and focusing on her lip.

Rosalie finally sets Draco's essay down, turning to voice her corrections aloud to him when she sees his grey eyes already focused in on her. Her throat swells, prohibiting words to sneak out.

She didn't realize how attractive Draco was until this moment. Rosalie knew how he was graced with good genes, but staring into his pools of grey brought it into clear perspective.

"Rose, hey," the voice of a Weasley says, breaking the contact the two Slytherins shared.

Rosalie turns to face Ron, a sneer at the tip of her tongue until she realizes who the intruder was.

"Ron," she greets tensely, looking back at Draco ⎯ who is glaring evilly at Ron. "How are you?"

"Uh, been better, I suppose," Ron stammers, fidgeting under Draco's glare. "Mal⎯"

Rosalie clears her throat, sending Ron a pointed look from her seat.

"Draco," Ron greets tensely.

After receiving an elbow to the ribs, Draco greets him. "Ron."

"What can I do for you?" Rosalie changes the subject quietly, sending Ron a tense smile.

Ron holds up a roll of parchment. "Transfiguration essay."

Rolling her eyes, the brunette nods. "I have just finished editing Draco's, want me to take a look at yours for you?"

Draco makes a sound of distaste at Rosalie's offer, turning back to his own essay. Ron shifts in his feet, his eyes glancing back and forth between Rosalie and Draco.

"Blood traitor," a mumble comes from across the Slytherin table, Rosalie turning to glare at Flint ⎯ who is glaring at Ron.

"What did I tell you," Draco threatens, his body going rigid.

Rosalie quickly stands from her feet, shoving her bag across her shoulder. She motions Ron to follow her and they begin making their way towards the entrance of the Great Hall.

Rosalie stops, turning back to the table she had just left. "Draco," she calls. "Are you coming?"

Draco looks up from his glare at Flint ⎯ who is staring at the table ⎯ and stands, tensely walking up to the pair. He and Ron stare at each other, Rosalie rolling her eyes at them.

"I swear," she mutters, grabbing each of their sleeves and pulling them out of the Great Hall. "You gits will be the death of me."

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