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Draco was glaring at him across the table, taunting him with a haughty stare. Harry fidgeted slightly in his seat. He knew he had already taken too long, but— as much as he hated to admit it— Draco’s annoyingly superior smirk was getting to him. Taking a deep breath, he returned Draco’s gaze, daring him to say something. He felt his heart thump even louder as Draco ever-so-slightly cocked an eyebrow, never breaking eye contact. The silence seemed to stretch on forever until Draco arched his back, stretching his lightly toned arms over his head and yawning widely. Settling back down, he rested his head on his fist, his smirk breaking into a grin.
“Scared, Potter?” He teased.
Harry turned bright red. “You wish,” he retorted. “Knight to F5!”
A collective sigh of relief came from the people who surrounded them on all sides, and Draco started clapping.
“Bravo, Potter, it only took you, what? A full three minutes to make a chess move,” He taunted.
“Five, actually,” Hermione said from beside Harry, holding her hand across the table towards Pansy.
With a loud groan, Pansy pushed a galleon into the Gryffindor’s outstretched hand. Draco’s grin was still stretched wide across his face.
“Oh, come now everyone, cut him some slack! He may be the Chosen One but even he has to be bad at something,” Draco drawled.
Harry fixed him with a pointed stare. “Just for the record, I strongly dislike you,” he quipped.
Draco’s face softened slightly, his eyes warm. “No you don’t.”