"Potter."
"Malfoy."
Harry pressed a button on the lift and then stepped back, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms loosely as he stared at the pointy-faced prat his best friend had just announced she was dating.
Malfoy's eyes were locked on the lift doors. His expression was cool and indifferent, but as Harry studied him, he noticed that the corners of Malfoy's eyes were tense and the fingers of his left hand twitched as though he were fighting the urge to reach for his wand.
Harry cleared his throat and watched Malfoy's entire body go rigid for a split-second. He started to open his mouth.
Hermione will murder you if you mess with him.
He shut his mouth resignedly and wished the lift would hurry up.
Instead, there was a grinding sound, and the lift abruptly came to a halt.
Malfoy let out a disbelieving breath and stepped forward, jamming his thumb repeatedly against the buttons. The lift buttons illuminated but nothing happened.
Malfoy banged against doors and swore under his breath. He tilted his head back and rolled his jaw so that it popped audibly before turning to look at Harry.
"Well," was all Malfoy said before leaning back against the opposite wall and loosely folding his arms, mirroring Harry's stance.
He's got his wand in an arm holster, Harry realised.
After several deafening minutes of silence Malfoy snorted.
"I'm not going to fight you, Potter. If you're going to pummel me in the lift, you'll have to make the first move. Just get it over with." His teeth were bared, and he had the same nasty sneer on his face that he'd worn at school.
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "I'm not going to attack you. Hermione will murder me if I mess with her personal life."
Malfoy didn't relax one bit. "Right," he said in a tone thick with disbelief. "The lift just happened to break with you and I in here."
Harry shrugged. "Well. I've been here the whole time. So—wasn't me."
Malfoy's eyes rolled briefly, and he turned and stared stonily at the doors.
The silence dragged until Harry couldn't take any more.
"How's working in the Wizengamot?"
Malfoy's jaw twitched. "We really don't need to talk, Potter."
There were several more minutes of silence.
"So—you and Hermione," Harry said, stuffing his hands into his pockets and finding a snitch he'd forgotten about. "I can't say I ever expected that."
"I imagine not." Malfoy didn't look away from the doors.
Harry pulled the snitch out of his pocket and started tossing it and catching it. He eyed Malfoy. "You do actually care about her, right? This isn't some plan your dad hatched up to make your family look better by using her, is it?"
Malfoy's lip twitched and curled upward. "Yes, Potter, I'm using her, and I'm going to tell you all about it in a Ministry lift, and I chose her because there aren't any less obvious Muggleborns to date."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why not? She was the Muggleborn you always said you hoped would die first. It's hard not to think this is just a different way to hurt her—since it's not fashionable to want her dead anymore."
Malfoy's jaw twitched and the tension around his eyes got more obvious. "Right"—his voice was stiff—"because if I hurt her, it would assuredly make my family look better."
