sweet talk ↯ draco malfoy

SEVENTEEN

SEVENTEEN | big balls

UMBRIDGE STOOD AT the front of her class, a beginners book in hand as she read from the pages. Every few seconds, her tongue would dart across her lips, resembling more and more like a toad as the days passed.

Rosalie sat in her chair, leaned back with her book laying abandoned and forgotten on the desk in front of her. She had read this exact book as a young child, practically memorized it due to her parents looming fears.

The brunette was impeccably bored — listening to the women who dressed as a child drawl on and on. Rosalie glanced around the classroom, seeing her fellow classmates drown out the sound of Umbridge's voice.

Glancing to her left, she sees Draco staring at the ceiling, a sleepy look in his eyes. He wished to be anywhere but a classroom, especially Defense Against The Dark Arts. He couldn't even deny that Lupin was, by far, a better teacher than Umbridge would ever be.

Even though he would never admit that aloud.

Draco's eyes glanced towards Rosalie, the pools of green and blue mixing together in a short gaze before breaking by a toad's croak.

"Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Grimmett," Professor Umbridge said, having caught the two not paying attention. "Have you forgotten where you were?"

"No," Rosalie said blankly, her eyes burning holes into the Professor's. "We're in a fifth year Defense Against the Dark Arts, learning material I've known since I was a young child."

Umbridge didn't falter as she replied. "A refresher is always good for the mind, am I correct?"

"If that helps you sleep at night, ma'am." Rosalie replied, her voice and face equally blank as Umbridge stared at her.

Neither said another word until the Professor clicked her tongue and continued her lesson.

"Oi," a deep voice said from behind Rosalie, causing her to turn and face Blaise. "You've got some big balls talking to a Professor like that, Grimmett."

"Certainly bigger than yours, Zabini," she replied shortly, a smirk growing on her face as she turned, enjoying the snickering of the surround Slytherins.

Rosalie resumed her gazing around the classroom, her eyes locking in on a pile of books stationed on the table behind Umbridge. Another devilish smirk grew on Rosalie's face as she untucked her hands from her robes, freeing her fingers to preform a nonverbal charm.

The books behind the Professor behind to levitate, Rosalie's eyes locked on the stack as they began to hover above the table. Her fingers were in control — a feeling she had grown to adore.

The fate of what happened to the books was at her disposal, she could send them flying around the room or slowing levitate them higher and higher until they touched the ceiling.

And she did the latter.

The books rose into the air as her hand rose under the table, her eyes never breaking the stare they had on the books.

Her classmates quickly caught sight of the floating books, hitting their partners and pointing until the lesson had been forgotten. They looked on in amazement as Rosalie swayed the books back and forth, dangerously close to toppling over at an instant.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rosalie sees Harry staring at her with a look of warning. She knew exactly what this meant — his face was practically screaming at her to stop and that if she was caught in the act, the scars adoring her hand would only deepen.

Rosalie turned her head towards Harry, a daring look upon her face as their eyes met. As soon as they did, Harry's warning rang true.

Behind Umbridge, the pile of books came crashing down, falling everywhere in the classroom.

The Professor leaped into the air, a croak of fear spilling from her lips to echo the classroom. She stared at the books before turning to the class, her calculating eyes scanning over each of the students.

"Longbottom!" She screeched, gaining Rosalie's attention from her staring match with Harry.

Her eyes land on Neville, who was quickly shoving his wand back into his pocket with a look of bewilderment upon his face.

"I. . . I didn't do it!" He said with panic evident in her voice, sending a wave of guilt crashing through Rosalie's chest.

Umbridge clasps her hands in front of her, tilting her head to the side with a cold glare gleaming in her eyes. "You are the only one with their wand out. Two weeks of detention will suffice, I believe."

Next to Rosalie, a snicker slips past Draco's lips as they all watch the seen unfold in front of them. Rosalie's mouth falls agape at this, a steering glare escaping her at the blonde.

Draco can see the guilt in her eyes, under the fury she's released upon him for laughing. His humor from the situation quickly disperses at this, an aching feeling of disappointment bubbling in his stomach. He never wanted to anger Rosalie, knowing too well that it wouldn't favor him in the end.

So, before he could stop himself, he was raising his hand, gaining the Professor's attention.

"Yes, Draco?" Umbridge's sickening sweet tone reappeared, her eyes landing on him.

"I made the books levitate, Professor, not Longbottom." Draco said. His proclamation not only confusing himself, but the rest of the students in the classroom.

"Two weeks of detention then," she tuts before facing Neville again. "Two nights of detention for you — usage of wands for any purpose in my class is forbidden and will not go unpunished."

Shortly after, class had ended. Draco rushed out of the room before anyone, including Rosalie, could stop him and question his reasoning for protecting one of the people he seemed to hate the most.

Rosalie had just exited the room when a warm hand gripped her upper arm, gently pulling her around to face the boy with the lightening star.

"Did you tell him to do that?" Harry asked her, adjusting his satchel on his shoulder.

Shaking his hand from her arm, Rosalie shook her head. "Why would I tell Draco to do anything?"

"Malfoy wouldn't help Neville — or any Gryffindor, for that matter — if it didn't benefit him in the long haul," Harry countered.

"Draco's not as evil as you paint him out to be, Potter," she says with distaste. "I don't know why you're so hellbent on accusing him of everything bad that happens."

Harry opens his mouth to counter the argument when a certain red head appears at his side, shaking his head.

"Just let it go, Harry," Ron says, watching Rosalie turn and stall out of the corridor. "Some things you don't get to figure out."