Clean

The Danger

Chapter 17: The Danger

The handwriting was narrow, linear, and neat.

Draco Malfoy.

"Oof," Harry said, smiling nonchalantly as he shook his head. "I don't envy you."

Hermione grimaced, taking the slip of parchment back from him. "I probably should have been expecting it."

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "It's fine. You can beat him."

"I know that," she said defensively. "Of course I know that."

She did not know that at all. True, she knew she was an excellent witch. She knew she could outperform Malfoy, under the majority of circumstances. But she had to admit, she'd recently been rendered speechless by him, watching him duel. He was always difficult to read but in this environment he was almost frighteningly calm, scarily cognizant of his opponent's next move. Hermione had observed Cho's bewildered face progress rapidly through stages of desperation and recalled suddenly Blaise Zabini's look of undiluted shock when he'd been disarmed. Malfoy was almost certainly using legilimency and nobody but Hermione seemed to be the wiser – with the possible exception of Snape, she noted, who had held his chin in his hand thoughtfully, his dark eyes uncharacteristically luminous with interest.

She'd have to read Malfoy to be able to beat him, but her windows into his thoughts were few and far between, she realized. Even when he let her in, as he had been doing as of late, she suspected he was still careful to control what she saw. How someone who had seemed so unilaterally immature and single-minded for so long could have somehow evolved into the silvery, unreadable enigma before her was staggering. She wondered, for perhaps the thousandth time, what he'd been through, to make him what he was. A better man, unquestionably. But a guarded one.

Perhaps a dangerous one, she thought darkly.

She thought of his face this morning, and the kiss he'd given her as he teasingly returned her affections. "I utterly abhor you," he'd said. She smiled. She knew what he meant. Maybe facing her would be different for him. Maybe she meant something to him.

She looked over at where Malfoy stood now, wondering if he'd seen her name on his own slip of parchment yet. He was sitting alone, watching Theo Nott duel Helen Dawlish, his eyes following their respective spell work as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. It was a closer match than the previous few had been and he was focused intently on Theo, nodding thoughtfully when his spells hit home. Hermione found herself silently supporting Theo as well, much to her surprise; she was finding him harder to resent, knowing the friend he was to Malfoy. Theodore Nott was not the first Slytherin that she'd misjudged, and she wasn't likely to make the same mistake again.

"How do you think I should beat him?" she asked Harry, not taking her eyes off Malfoy. She figured she had an excuse, for once.

Harry shrugged, his eyes volleying between Theo and Helen. "You know him better than I do, I suppose," he replied vacantly. "What are his weaknesses?"

"That's a very Malfoy question to ask," she commented, smiling slightly. Harry only made a face at her.

What are his weaknesses? she wondered, eyeing Malfoy. He looked up at her briefly, his face composed. She shuddered as she met his grey eyes. Whatever they were, hers certainly outnumbered them.

"You're not a very good coach, Harry," she whispered, though he did not hear her. The Great Hall erupted in applause as Theo finally sent Helen's wand soaring, ending the longest duel of the day. Hermione clapped politely, heart pounding as she felt Malfoy's eyes on her.