Rewound (Drarry)

Righting Wrongs

Draco was sat next to Harry in the Great Hall.

It was early on a Saturday, and due to the lack of Quidditch practice, the hall was pretty empty. For this reason, Harry had decided to sit with Draco at the Slytherin table when he came in. He was currently blabbing on about his latest development in Herbology Club with Neville. Draco was only half listening, more focused on the way Harry was buttering his toast.

Harry wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing, and was sort of just smearing the butter back and forth with no real intention behind his actions. He kept slipping up and sliding his hand across the toast, leading him to lick it off his fingers like a dog. Draco was completely mesmerised, and it was frankly insulting that anyone should be expected to focus on anything else whilst Mr Talking-Wet-Dream over there was sliding his tongue over his fingers like it was his bloody job or something.

"-and apparently it's sap has some serious healing qualities, although Neville says it's not possible to grow it in the UK, because the climate here is too 'magically volatile,' whatever that means-"

"Potter could you-" Draco interrupted, losing the battle with his wandering mind, "Could you stop doing that?"

Harry blinked, "Doing what?"

"That- all that licking. Your fingers, it's..." Draco trailed off, "Disgusting." He settled on, valiantly fighting the blush rising to his cheeks.

"Disgusting? Ugh, really? You're so posh. Everyone licks their fingers, you know? You're really weirder if you don't."

Draco had the Daily Prophet and was holding it tightly in front of his face. Harry raised a suspicious brow, however did not question his unusual behaviour, instead returning to his toast and this time wiping the stray butter on a napkin.

Across the hall, at the Gryffindor table, Granger and Weasley were in deep conversation. Draco wasn't paying them any particular mind, until Granger stopped her whispering and frowned right at him, squinting her eyes and tilting her head curiously.

Draco looked down at himself self-consciously, wondering if perhaps he'd spilt something on his clothes, or if maybe Harry's poor buttering skills had caught him in the crossfire, however Granger appeared not to be looking at him.

She was looking at something before him, but only just. Draco put down the Prophet, scanning the large table for anything unusual. Harry had now noticed his distracted behaviour, and paused in his Herbology spiel.

"What?" He asked. Draco ignored him, making eye contact with Granger who was no longer staring intently but rather just looking in their direction with an odd look on her face. He shrugged at her, mouthing a 'what is it?' across the hall.

She shook her head in response, getting up and walking over to their place at the Slytherin table.

"Hermione?" Harry inquired, "What's up?"

"Your newspaper. Can I see it?" She said to Draco, who frowned.

"It's just the Prophet, Granger. Nothing especially exciting." Draco handed her the newspaper, and she flipped it over to the side Draco hadn't read yet.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," She responded warily, "You haven't seen this, have you?"

"No.. why? What's happened?" Draco shared a panicked glance with Harry, wondering for a fleeting second if another unpredicted Death Eater event had taken place.

"Oh, God. She must have been planning this for months." Granger said, face growing more concerned by the second.

"What is it? Quit being cryptic, Granger, and show us."