┢ Draco idly flicked his wand under the desk, bored out of his mind in Professor Trelawney's lecture. He adamantly resisted the urge of wanting to tap his quill impatiently on the wooden desk.
He leaned back in his chair, his silver eyes flickering from one face to another in search of some form of entertainment to alleviate his boredom. Draco's attention drifted, uninterested in the vague predictions she offered to various students. Trelawney's words washed over him like white noise, he barely even registered when Trelawney turned her attention to Pansy Parkinson.
"Tsk, Miss Parkinson," Trelawney murmured, her soft voice wafting through the classroom like smoke, she peered into Pansy's teacup with a furrowed brow. "The one you lean upon will lead you down a path of agony, and not even through perseverance and persistence, shall you be able to alter the course of your life."
Pansy's eyes widened in alarm, her hand instinctively gripping the edge of the table. "But Professor, surely there must be a way to avoid such a fate?"
He rolled his eyes discreetly, finding the whole affair utterly tedious. Predictions of doom and gloom were hardly his idea of entertainment.
He couldn't care less about Trelawney's predictions; they were as empty as the wind, devoid of any substance. He'd heard from older students that Trelawney's prophecies were nothing but vague mumblings that never came to fruition, ranging from pain to death and everything in between.
He continued his hunt for a prey that he would befall his boredom on and didn't halt until he found her—Hermione.
He shook his head, trying to dispel the illusion, but she remained there, real and tangible. It was as if his senses were playing tricks on him, conjuring her presence where she shouldn't be. He rubbed his eyes, thinking perhaps he was imagining things, but when he looked again, she was still there.
How could she be here when he distinctly remembered her absence earlier? He had searched the classroom high and low for any sign of her, even creeping closer to Potter and Weasley's bench, yet she had been nowhere to be found. Trelawney hadn't allowed any latecomers into the class, and Draco certainly hadn't seen Hermione enter.
The more he thought about it, the more perplexed he became. It was as if Hermione had materialized out of thin air.
Draco's frustration grew as he struggled to comprehend the situation. Was this some kind of prank? A trick of the mind? Or was Hermione playing games with him, deliberately trying to unsettle him?
