Prince of snakes | Dramione

Chapter 9

Meeting his gaze, she could contemplate his face. He seemed angry and almost worried. His hair cut short near his ears, only his long platinum strands caressed his face. She found this change pleasant.

"Malfoy," she greeted with false enthusiasm.

Her ironic tone didn't escape him. Why did he always have to be around? Couldn't she have a quiet evening? Raising an almost threatening eyebrow, she glared at him with palpable defiance radiating from her body. Muscles stretched to the extreme, she awaited his next retort. But it didn't come. The young Slytherin merely analyzed her with his silver orbs. He didn't seem to disapprove of her reaction. On the contrary. Watching him like this, head tilted, she could almost think he was curious about her next move. With infinite grace, she grabbed what was due to her with her free hand and downed the strong alcohol in one gulp. She didn't make the mistake of grimacing. His grip tightened under her guidance, and she offered him an amused smile.

"Careful, Malfoy. From the way you're observing me, I might think you're worried about the fate of a Mudblood. Which would be very strange, wouldn't it?"

Seeming to regain his senses, he hastily released her wrist, and the absence of his touch sent shivers down the Gryffindor's spine. Conversations had resumed in the prefects' lounge. Hermione was almost grateful for it. She didn't want to make a scene in front of the many students who had come to celebrate.

Without further ado, she poured herself another glass, as Blaise, still on her right, bit his index finger, stifling a laugh in his beard.

"What are you doing, Granger?" her roommate finally spat angrily.

"I'm celebrating, can't you see? But if you prefer me to stay in my room, I can make sure of that."

Her retorts were filled with acidity, and perhaps it was unfair to rest her resentment on the Slytherin, but Hermione felt great satisfaction in doing so. The angry sparkle in his eyes transformed in a few seconds as he scrutinized her attire. His gaze traveled from her small pleated brown skirt with a narrow slit on her left thigh to her unbuttoned blouse, revealing her throat. Malfoy seemed to forget to breathe.

"I thought you'd be with Scarface Potter and his idiotic friends." "Oh, you're thinking about my schedule now? That's so adorable of you." She chuckled at her words, while the Slytherin clenched his fists like blocks of stone. Blaise had just choked on his drink, and formulating a half-hearted excuse, he escaped their verbal sparring, hastily making his way out, bumping into some students along the way. Surveying the rest of the individuals in the room with her pupils, she caught Nott's gaze on her. In controlled movements, he initiated a stride towards them. Malfoy, noticing him out of the corner of his eye, grumbled something under his breath that she couldn't make out.

"Golden Girl," exclaimed the dark-haired newcomer. He scrutinized her with excruciating slowness, as if devouring her with his eyes. Hermione offered him a brief nod, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. The proximity of the two Slytherins made her uneasy, especially considering their pronounced glances. What were they expecting from her?

Sighing wearily at their reaction, she took a sip of her drink, turning away to let her eyes wander to the darker corners of the room. Pansy Parkinson was deep in conversation with Daphne Greengrass, a witch with long golden hair and piercing blue eyes. Theodore destabilized her as he made a move to touch her long chocolate curls. Gazing at him with her caramel-colored eyes, she parted her lips to utter a biting remark, but he cut her off.

"Welcome to the lame Slytherin party, Granger. I never thought we'd have the famous know-it-all Gryffindor among us."

"I live here," she breathed, perturbed by his soft and amiable tone.