Chapter 5: A Glance Too Many

Disclaimer: Nope. Nothing at all.

A/N: So I haven't been on here in a long while, but after the shitload of reviews I received (so many amazing ones btw) I just had to write another chapter and begin my dramione spamming once again. I know it's a bit on the short side but bear with me. Let me know what you think, yeah? All my love!

"Zabini, Parkinson." He greeted with a curt nod to both Slytherins that sat across the table from him. Crabbe and Goyle of course were both sitting on either side of Draco as he dropped his bag beside him and poured himself some pumpkin juice. He could feel Zabini's eyes scanning his features but he chose to ignore it, knowing the other boy was probably looking for any signs of a hard night's sleep beside tangled sheets. He wouldn't find any though, that much was obvious since Draco was an expert at glamour spells. Those of which, he cast before so much as opening a curtain. No, this Malfoy was much sneakier than that. Blaise of all people should know that. Briefly glancing at the Gryffindor table for that frizzy freak of a witch he had yet to spot her and all he could think was that she was probably incredibly slow at walking. Merlin knew why people found the witch so endearing. She was rather disgusting in his opinion. Clearing his throat, Draco grabbed a piece of toast and began buttering it up, glancing at a chatting Pansy who was at the very least trying to explain to Goyle the properties of Dragon Tonic and Blaise, who had yet to stop eyeing him.

"I know I'm appealing, but I'm no ponce Zabini, I didn't think you were one as well." He said with that same sarcastic drawl of his, a tiny smirk crawling up his lips before it was muffled by his breakfast.

"Appealing are you? Please, if I was a ponce I'd be looking at Crabbe." He teased, winking at Crabbe and smirking as the boy looked back at Zabini with wide, almost fearful eyes. After an awkward beat of silence, Blaise returned to cutting up his breakfast. "Alright then." Draco refrained from chuckling and bit down on his toast, knowing Crabbe wasn't one with the best sense of humor. Or any for that matter. Once again he found himself glancing at the Gryffindor table, if only to sneer at Potter and Weasley like he did most days. Finally, he could check that off his daily list of things to do. Just as he was about to people watch yet again he was brought back to that same red and gold side of the room by Granger. Mudblood Granger no less, who seemed…happy? He had seen her stark naked—Well, practically—only moments ago and she was smiling as if she was okay with it? Bloody hell, Draco would never understand Gryffindors. That entire taunting moment was all for naught. Brilliant.

"Draco…Are you alright, love?" He was snapped out of his reverie by that familiar Parkinson voice and he looked at her. "Hmm?" he asked before realizing his actions and straightening up. "Are you suggesting I'm anything but, Pansy darling?" At that familiar drawl, wink, and smirk, everyone had gone back to their business and Pansy, rolling her eyes at the boy, went back to her gossips and whatever else birds like her talked about. Finishing up his toast, Draco risked another glance at the Gryffindor table and grabbed a green apple off the many bowls across the wood, biting down on it as he noticed with a satisfied feel, the mudblood scolding her two little friends yet again. It was rather amusing, seeing both of them get shot down and chided by none other than a lowly muggleborn like her. He swallowed his fruit and watched much more discreetly at the scene before him. Those three really had yet to change much, even after all these years and he wondered if he had changed much at all either. Well that wasn't true. He was taller, fitter, and much more attractive, he thought with a haughty inward grin. Glancing about the rest of the Grand Hall, his eyes snaked their way to the Headmaster and he winced as he watched the man's black and decaying hand warily.

Ever since he'd returned and visited Dumbledore, he'd yet to figure out—or stop looking at—the new injury the headmaster carried with him. What was that? And why was it making him so bloody uncomfortable and anxious? That was one thing he wasn't a fan of. Anxiety. It wasn't even a real emotion. It was like a warning sign. Like a never ending rising action of a story that you're very much aware of until it fades. It isn't until later that you realize you never reached the climax. Or sometimes you do. That would be a different emotion all together. For the fourth time that morning, Draco found himself glancing at the Golden Trio, and it wasn't really that surprising, the boy always eyed that particular table. Mostly to seethe and rarely to observe the one female he adored to piss off. An amused smirk crawled up his lips as she laughed though, and what really brought on the amusement was the dumfounded look on the weasel and Potter. Well done, Granger. At that he barely acknowledged her as she left, finishing up his apple and listening to Pansy and friends for a good five seconds before going about his own business. Merlin knew, he could never involve himself in the high pitched squeals and giggles of the girls in his house, even when they drooled over him.

He glanced at Goyle, noticing his furrowed brows and the slight lip bite as he tried to scribble down the rest of his Potions essay in chicken legged handwriting. With a sigh, Draco pulled out his notes and dropped them on Goyle's paper. "I want them back by lunch." Was all he said, before he stepped out of the bench and with a nod, left his classmates behind to their morning banters, heading out to Transfigurations a few minutes ahead of time, not even bothering to wait outside of the classroom and simply walking in. He always liked an empty classroom or two.