get out [h. granger]

nine

Shyla sat in the empty classroom, waiting rather impatiently for Granger to show up. She picked at the skin on her cuticles, one of the many habits she had picked up over the summer to spite her aunt. She ran the pad of her thumb over one of the raw parts of the skin, the stinging feeling distracting her from the comings and goings of the library. 

The slam of a bookbag on the table in front of her made Shyla look up from her fingers. There was Granger in all of her glory, clearly annoyed by something. Shyla couldn't help but smirk as she leaned back against her chair and observed the Gryffindor. Her hair was messy, her shirt ruffled, and her tie loosened.

"Have a good snog, Granger?" Shyla asked dryly, looking Granger up and down. 

Granger flushed bright red. "What- no I have not!" She sputtered. "You know I could give you detention for saying something like that!"

Shyla snorted. It was cute that Granger thought she cared about things like detention or house points. "Oh, don't threaten me with a good time," Shyla said. She would love for nothing more than to piss her aunt off by getting detention. And of course, she wouldn't actually get in trouble for it once Aunt Marienne learned that she was being pushed around by someone like Granger. 

Granger narrowed her eyes at Shyla for a moment. "Whatever," she said loftily, brushing off whatever thought she had. "I came here to tutor you, not to be made fun of."

"If you say so," Shyla shrugged. "I am more than happy for both of us to just agree to tell Dumbledore that our little study sessions are going perfectly without actually doing them."

Granger looked scandalized, as though Shyla had just bent down and kicked a puppy. "We can't!" she said. "We can't lie to the headmaster, he clearly wanted you to take these lessons for a reason! Besides, weren't you all eager to learn about magic last year?"

Shyla studied Hermione curiously. A strange flutter in her chest happened as she realized that Granger had remembered her from their brief connection in St. Mungos. She didn't like the feeling, not one bit. A scowl formed on her lips and she crossed her arms tightly, the mark on her arm seeming to tingle. "Things change, Granger," she said, refusing to look at the Gryffindor again. She didn't want to think about how different it could have been if Hermione wasn't a Gryffindor and a muggle-born. She didn't want to think about how different it could have been if she had never gotten the mark on her arm and had never said yes to her aunt. 

Granger sighed and pinched her nose, clearly frustrated. "No wonder you're getting married to Malfoy," she said under her breath. "Look, let's just get to work. I'm not asking to be your friend—"

"Good."

"—But I am going to sit here and teach you. It is up to you whether or not you want to listen to me. Maybe then you'll have a chance of passing your N.E.W.T.s."

"Get pushed around much, Granger?" Shyla asked, half teasing and half genuinely curious. 

Granger shot Shyla a scathing glare. "Shut up, Fawley. Show me your alohamora."

———————

"Draco, if you touch me again, your arm is getting hexed off," Shyla said, ripping her hand out of Draco's grasp as he pulled her towards the seventh floor. Her "study session" with Granger had already left her in a bad mood since Granger seemed to think Shyla had never picked up a wand before. Now Draco was pissy and short-tempered as well, leading Shyla just a little bit closer to snapping. 

"Shut up, will you?" he hissed. Closing his eyes, he stopped in front of a wall and started pacing back and forth. 

Shyla stared at him incredulously. "What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?"