Sharp as a Butter Knife

Professor Slughorn's new seating arrangement was abysmal. That was the first thing to cross Hermione's mind as she placed her things on the table at her new seat. It wasn't bad enough that Potions would be harder than any year before, no. The professor simply had to give her an extra distraction from what should be her well-focused studies in potion-brewing.

"You," she huffed as her table partner took his seat beside her; his blond hair bounced gently. He cast one of his usual looks in her direction; his nose was bunched-up at her, as though something about her disgusted him. She suspected her blood status smelled like raw sewage to any member of the Malfoy family.

"Yes, me." Draco set his book and cauldron on the table a bit roughly. At least he wasn't fond of the new seating arrangement, either. A few thoughts came to her mind as she contemplated means to make his time beside her a living hell. "You got a problem with that, Granger? Afraid you're going to be outsmarted by a Pureblood?"

"Not hardly." She rolled her eyes. She knew that, of anyone in the room, he was the least likely to best her in anything – even potions.

"I am the brightest tool in the shed, after all." He smirked, prodding her gently with his elbow.

"Sharpest," she corrected. Confusion washed over his face; he scratched his head with the tip of his potion's knife. She cringed; the knife was obviously sharp. As if her previous experiences hadn't been testament enough, she was increasingly convinced of his profound idiocy. "You mean that you're the sharpest tool in the shed." She wondered if his great lack of knowledge in the realm of Muggles had influenced his butchering of such a classic idiom.

"What?" She suspected that he had rarely, if ever, been corrected in his life.

"You're about as sharp as a butter knife, aren't you?" Hermione snapped, snatching the knife from his hand. He was going to cut himself and blame it on her – of that she felt certain. She placed her cauldron on the table and began to set-out several of the ingredients listed on the blackboard.

"If you spread your butter with razors," Draco responded slyly. So he was capable of genuine wit, after all. He grinned wickedly at her. Her expression must have been one of amazement.

Hermione's thoughts immediately shot to just how lame his comment sounded. Before she knew it, she was laughing. She couldn't believe he'd say something like that. As she raised her hand to her mouth to muffle her laughter, she noticed just then that his cheeks had brightened to a vibrant shade of red.

"I think we'll get on just fine after all, Granger," Draco mumbled, his eyes focused on the thin white text at the front of the classroom. "I think we'll get on just fine."

"Whatever you say," she chuckled, and began to mash her tubeworms with the flat part of her blade. She shook her head. Draco was crazier than she'd thought.

Author's Note: This was one of those plot bunnies that I wanted to ignore, but wrote anyway. Apparently plot bunnies can be very ... persuasive. I hope you enjoyed - please review!