It's his smirk that warns her, even before the desk had begun to animate. She'd known that sitting on the desktops would unnerve him, had done it on purpose for that very reason. Really, she'd be impressed at his foresight and the brilliant wicked streak it betrayed, if it weren't for the fact that she was suddenly rising in the air, and riding a desk was nothing like a broom.
And her belt loop is stuck on a worn out corner of the desk, and suddenly she's screeching at him. She could have slid off the desk without any effort, landed on her feet like a cat, and they could have had a good laugh, but no, her trousers are caught and she is rapidly rising, and she is absolutely certain she knows what's coming.
"MALFOY!" is all she manages to start, but she sure packs a wallop of spite in it. At the very last moment, an uncomfortable but not unmanageable distance from the classroom floor, she manages to shimmy loose and slide off the desk. Her landing is graceless and punctuated by no small amount of cursing.
And she scrambles quickly away, just in case the desk's descent comes quicker without its prey.
She's on her hands and knees in the center aisle of the classroom, fire in her eyes as she stands slowly, brushes her hair out of her face and stares him down. She really doesn't have a leg to stand on and she knows it, but that doesn't mean she has to like it.
She doesn't remember deciding to stalk right up into his space, stopping just inches from him, entirely too close, fists clenched at her sides, embarrassment a bright crimson flush across every inch of exposed skin. To her credit, she at least manages to remain silent long enough to compose a few thoughts. But by then she's already in his face, and backing down would be even more embarrassing.
"When did you develop a sense of humour?" she manages, almost successfully making it sound like an insult instead of grudgingly impressed. Almost.
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And her belt loop is stuck on a worn out corner of the desk, and suddenly she's screeching at him. She could have slid off the desk without any effort, landed on her feet like a cat, and they could have had a good laugh, but no, her trousers are caught and she is rapidly rising, and she is absolutely certain she knows what's coming.
"MALFOY!" is all she manages to start, but she sure packs a wallop of spite in it. At the very last moment, an uncomfortable but not unmanageable distance from the classroom floor, she manages to shimmy loose and slide off the desk. Her landing is graceless and punctuated by no small amount of cursing.
And she scrambles quickly away, just in case the desk's descent comes quicker without its prey.
She's on her hands and knees in the center aisle of the classroom, fire in her eyes as she stands slowly, brushes her hair out of her face and stares him down. She really doesn't have a leg to stand on and she knows it, but that doesn't mean she has to like it.
She doesn't remember deciding to stalk right up into his space, stopping just inches from him, entirely too close, fists clenched at her sides, embarrassment a bright crimson flush across every inch of exposed skin. To her credit, she at least manages to remain silent long enough to compose a few thoughts. But by then she's already in his face, and backing down would be even more embarrassing.
"When did you develop a sense of humour?" she manages, almost successfully making it sound like an insult instead of grudgingly impressed. Almost.