dedication: Chloe, the ridiculous girl who is my soul animal / soul mate / person.
notes: this is deranged. I am deranged.
title: use somebody
summary: Because Dumbledore is a matchmaking old codger, and Hermione is rightly horrified. — Draco/Hermione.
"What are you doing? What are you doing?!" Hermione hissed out of the side of her mouth.
"Being annoying," Draco Malfoy yawned and flicked his wand rather lazily in her direction. Scrolls shot off the table and scattered across the freakishly clean floor of the Hogwarts library.
Hermione's eye twitched. "Pick those up."
"Malfoy, pick them up."
He leaned back, tilting his chair back on its hind legs as he stretched.
Hermione reigned in the urge to pour the cup of lukewarm tea over his head.
It wasn't like he didn't deserve it.
But then, the tea probably didn't want to be poured all over someone as greasy as Malfoy. It probably didn't want to be poured down that expensive-but-ugly silk lining of his robes. It was probably screaming about the indignity of even being considered—and really, who could blame it?
The mental image was far too amusing to pass up, and Hermione snickered to herself as she gathered up the parchment.
Malfoy was annoying, but not that annoying.
She settled her papers back on the table. S.P.E.W. would live on, with or without Malfoy's help. He was an idiot, anyway. He probably couldn't even read. Hermione smiled to herself.
"Are you quite done, Granger? I want to report to Dumbledore and be done with it. I have better things to do than—" and here, he paused to give her a not very impressive sneer "—help out with your little… club."
Hermione counted to ten in her head, letting the breath out slow so that she didn't try to stab him with her quill.
"And you're slow, too, Granger. Given how often your hand is in the air, you'd expect that you were a little quicker. All for show, then?"
Her eyes narrowed down into fiery little slits. Draco thought it was very attractive.
"Malfoy, if your value the shape of your nose, you should probably be quiet," said Hermione.
Of course, Draco paid this no mind whatsoever. He flicked his wand again to send the rolls of parchment flying. Granger steamed.
But since the probability of Granger actually doing something was very slight—
And then she did dump her tea all over his head, and she was dragging him by the ear out of the library with Madame Pince in the background, looking utterly horrified and Draco shouted "SHE'S STEALING MY LUNCH MONEY HELP," like anyone was really going to believe him because really, who would believe that someone Wonderful and Great and Good like Hermione Granger would ever do something as low as steal lunch money (and for that matter, how did he even know what lunch money was? Had he been at her Muggle Studies books again)?
She shoved him into a broom closet and locked him there for good measure.
Draco decided he was never going to forgive her.