Venom & Virtue

chapter 12

"You can't protect her from them forever," I said gently.

The implication behind my words was clear, a reference to the many prospective suitors that frequently approached Violetta for her attention.

Her intelligence, beauty and sweet demeanour made her a popular student amongst our peers. Girls wanted to be her, and boys wanted to be with her.

Draco was lucky that so far, no one seemed to have caught her attention.

"I know that, do you not think that drives me crazy?" He spoke again, a faint waver of exhaustion clear in his voice.

"I suppose that I hadn't really considered your stance on it."

"No one does."

It felt like the most honest thing he'd ever confessed to me, an admittance of the awareness for the disregard his opinion was placed under.

From my time at the Ministry, I understood that at least: the disinterest the people around you could have for your input.

It was strange to think that we had something in common, even at a stretch.

"Perhaps you should stay out of my business," Draco's belittling tone had returned, an indication that our moment of bonding was over.

"You make that fact difficult when your actions affect my friends."

"If you were smart, you would merely be grateful I don't dictate yours."

"You've tried," I pointed out, "my perfume remember?"

"That's insignificant."

"So, what are you saying? That I should be thankful you would let me sign up for the quidditch team?"

"Actually, you're not allowed to do that either."

My jaw dropped at his words, the irony of our conversation subduing me.

Once I'd gathered my disbelief, prepared to rain anger down upon him for trying to be such a dictator, the look on his face stopped me instead.

His gaze had drifted past me, far into the distance, focused on a point. The expression across his features was sour, as if he'd smelled the putrid scent of curdled milk.

I frowned, following his eyes across the library until I reached the focus of his displeasure.

A lean Gryffindor boy stood near the doors, glancing around for a spare seat.

He had short brown hair, spiky at the tips as it fell over his forehead in a messy fashion. He lifted his hand to adjust the rounded-wire spectacles on his face, pushing them up his nose to prevent them from slipping.

I turned back to Draco, suspicion twisted into my mouth.

"Who is that?"

He didn't bother to look at me, too intent on staring daggers at the boy.

"Harry Potter," he said the words in disgust, not even attempting to hide his displeasure.

"You hate him."

It wasn't a question so much as a fact, it was likely obvious to anyone within a three-mile radius that he wasn't fond of the boy.

"Technically speaking."

I thought back to our controlling conversation before the victim of his censure had arrived, my lips curving into a wicked smile as I hatched a plan.

"I'm going to invite him over here."

This caught Draco's attention, his furious eyes snapping to me like an elastic band.