It Happened in Egypt Chapter 26 is here.
Enjoy the poutery that is Draco the drama king.
To his everlasting disgust and horror, right on the precipice of salvation and solace, he’d come up against this latest surprise of the evening.
Weasley and Potter were here.
He should have been ecstatic to see her, but a grown man did not want his mother to see him without clothing— ever.
So there was that twin horror that he was still in the process of recovering from.
Draco was unexpectedly thrown back to school days with the appearance of those two now newly minted Aurors. While he’d been surrounded by his fussing parents, he’d glanced over to find Granger, as always, sandwiched between his two enemies in school.
Though to be fair, he'd held quite a grudge against Granger back at school himself, but that was before he'd come to know her better and realise she was actually fun .
It didn't mean that Potter and Weasley were included in this epiphany, and the fact that they'd been accepted into the Auror training program without completing their N.E.W.T.s was something that continued to rankle. Special treatment, anyone?
Even if he could now admit to himself that he'd been immature and a horror at school, that didn't mean he planned on talking about it or, heaven forbid, apologise for it. As for Weasley and Potter, they were equally as big of shits right back to him, so really, if any apologies were to be had, he planned on being the receiving end of them.
The point was, the appearance of those two idiots wasn't filling him with lightness and joy as it seemed to be doing for Granger, and the sight of them hugging it out as though they'd personally been involved in life-risking adventures was as annoying as it was laughable. Granger should be hugging him (or vice versa, whatever) for not having died on her, except she was too busy having other, less attractive male friends hang off her arm like she was a clothes hanger.
Honestly, it was still difficult to look at Potter and Weasley and not want to smash their faces into a pulp. Now they were cooing over Granger as though she were a baby bird in need of rescuing, and he could feel his face rearranging itself into the familiar set of his normal scowl.
A small voice told him to go over there and join them , and he was surprised by how much he wanted to, but she was barely looking in his direction. Old habits took over, and he turned his back on the room. Granger belonged with them, and he was perfectly happy with where he was.
Draco wasn’t going to lie to himself. He’d had a fairly coddled life. With the exception of those few years in school when terror surrounded him on all sides, he’d had a minimal amount of stress economically and socially. Especially set against the company of Granger, Draco was beginning to find that he was overly sheltered, and it shamed him a little (not that he’d ever admit it out loud). That was the delightful thing about Granger—or so he’d thought—she didn’t make a fuss over such things or she hadn’t once they’d become allies and friends.
But maybe that’d all been a lie, since she wasn’t paying him one iota drop of attention, and that currently seemed hugely unfair to him. Who had been the one who’d been tortured (maybe not to the extent of Voldemort torture, but that excessively thorough stripping and strung up in the air should count) and sentenced to die? She should be fussing over him as well. His arm still hurt from the bleeding, and nobody (and no Granger, but who was naming names?) was bothering to check on him.
He felt vaguely like pouting.
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