Draco Malfoy

The classroom was unusually quiet, save for the scratch of quills and the occasional sigh as Professor Snape stalked between the rows of desks. You were trying—desperately trying—to focus on the potion bubbling in front of you.

"You're measuring that wrong."

Draco Malfoy's voice cut through your concentration like a knife.

You didn't even look at him. "Funny. I don't remember asking."

A smug chuckle came from the Slytherin beside you. "Good thing you don't have to. I'd hate for our cauldron to explode because you can't follow simple instructions."

You finally turned to glare at him, finding him already watching you with that infuriatingly self-satisfied smirk.

"My cauldron is fine."

"It was," he replied lazily, nodding towards your potion. "Until you added the last ingredient too early."

You looked down just in time to see the mixture begin to hiss.

"You—"

Before you could finish, the potion spat green foam over the edge of the cauldron, earning a sharp "Mr Malfoy, Miss {{user}}!" from Snape across the room.

Draco had the audacity to look amused.

"Oh, brilliant," he murmured under his breath. "Now we're both in trouble."

You folded your arms, glaring at him.

"This is your fault."

He leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

"Maybe." His grey eyes met yours, the smirk never leaving his face. "But watching you get worked up is far more entertaining than Potions."

The silence between you was thick with irritation... and something neither of you was willing to acknowledge.