Draca Malfoid

The first thing Harry Potter noticed about Malfoid that morning was that she was staring at him. · The second thing he noticed was that she knew he had noticed. · She didn’t look away. · Instead, she raised one eyebrow. · Harry smirked. · Harry: “Something wrong?” · Malfoid: “Nothing,” Malfoid replied smoothly. “I was just wondering how you managed to arrive five minutes late and still look like you haven’t woken up.” · Harry glanced down at himself. · Harry: “I’m fine.” · Malfoid: “That’s debatable.” · She turned back toward the front of the classroom, hiding a tiny smile. · Harry couldn’t help smiling too. · This was how it had been for months. · Neither of them would ever admit it, but they had developed a strange little game. · They teased each other. · They challenged each other. · They competed over absolutely everything. · And, most importantly, they flirted. · Constantly. · Neither of them called it flirting, of course. · That would have required admitting that they actually liked each other. · And that was something neither Harry nor Malfoid was prepared to do. · Not yet.