Fascination|𝐴 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 (𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚛 3, 𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚔 1)

Chapter Four | Girls Like You

Girls Like You, by Maroon 5

   Hermione smiled to herself as she made her way down to the hall. She was not sure what had just happened in the hospital wing, but it was progress. Any communication with Malfoy that was not bickering or taunting was progress. It didn't mean they were friends or anything. Hermione laughed slightly at the thought. No. They were far from friends and she they probably always would be. It was just too absurd. But as long as he was trying to get along, she would be grateful and treat him kindly. He wasn't exactly going above and beyond, but for Malfoy, it was a miracle she'd gotten him to promise not to tell his father what had happened.

   With a sigh, Hermione entered the great hall and made her way over to the Gryffindor table then took a seat next to Harry and Ginny. Ron looked up from his plate and stared at her skeptically. "Where have you been?"

"I was helping Hagrid take another student to the hospital wing."

Ron snorted. "Pfft. It was just Malfoy. Does it really matter what happens to him? Maybe he'll do us all a favor and drop over dead." Hermione stifled a gasp at Ron's bluntness and he looked at her. "What had you so worried anyways?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "I... It's none of your concern. Besides, I was worried for Hagrid's sake."

"Humph. Sure you were."

Hermione's anger flared. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

   Harry laughed and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "I think you'd best let it go before she really gets mad, mate."

"Why should she be the one who gets to get mad."

"You did somewhat insult her, Ron."

Ron fumed. "Like hell I did..."

   Hermione raised her hand, cutting him off. "I'd rather not argue over trivial things with you Ron. Can we just sit and enjoy our meal for once?" That shut Ron up rather quickly as he grumbled and stuffed a pumpkin pasty in his mouth. Hermione nodded triumphantly and pulled forward her glass. "Butterbeer." She said in a firm, clear voice. The cup filled to the brim with cold, frothing butterbeer. Compliments of the kitchen's house elves. Hermione smiled, despite Ron's loathful glare and downed the glass of creamy, golden liquid. Once she finished, Hermione pointed her wand at the empty glass and filled it again.

   "So," Ron started, through a mouthful of food. "How is the ferret? Did he lose his arm? Oh wouldn't that be a shame."

"Ron how many times must I tell you? Don't talk with your mouth full."

He rolled his eyes. "Jus answer the question, Mione."

Hermione sighed. "He was injured but I don't think it was too bad. I didn't care to stay and find out."

   Just then, the Slytherin table burst into cheers, giggles, and gasps. Hermione turned to find out what the commotion was about to see Malfoy enter the room. His arm was in a sling and he looked rather pale, more so than usual. It was almost as if he might faint. Hermione knew at once that this was an act. Though he may have actually been injured, Madam Pomfrey should have fixed him up well enough to where he should not feel anything at this point. Draco snorted, raised his head, and walked over to his seat.

Malfoy cradled his injured arm with his uninjured arm as if he had broken it. The Slytherins bombarded him with questions, Pansy at his right hand side, giving in to his every need. He smirked as she fawned over him, clearly enjoying her pity. "Does it hurt terribly, Draco?" She mused, caressing his hand in her own, looking at the wrapped wound.