It wasn’t the first time Hermione Granger had the urge to kick Draco Malfoy in the crotch.

“Just because you’re Head Boy doesn’t mean you can bend the rules to your own benefit,” she seethed.

Draco merely raised a brow at her. “Just because you’re Head Girl doesn’t mean you have to act like you have a broomstick up your arse all the time,” he responded with a smirk that made her temper rise to an alarming level.

“You crossed the line, and you know it, Malfoy,” she ground out, her hands balling into fists as she resisted the urge to punch him. How McGonagall deemed him worthy to be Head Boy, she really had no idea. He was the most arrogant, narrow-minded bigot she ever had the misfortune of meeting.

“So what?” his grey eyes held a hint of amusement, as though he was enjoying her livid state. “I had fun, and no one got hurt. Seriously, Granger, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were actually worried about me,”

Hermione blushed and tore her gaze away from him. “In your dreams, Malfoy.”

“My dreams are much more enjoyable than that, Granger.” he replied with a half-lidded stare that made her more flustered. He was tempted to goad her further, but he didn’t want to be the target of the book she now clutched in her hands. “Now, going back to the topic, I promise I won’t go flying on my broom in the middle of the night again. Happy now?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Immensely.” she answered with an astounding amount of sarcasm that made him flinch inwardly.