There's this sudden flush of paranoia that strikes him as Snape walks into the room, lingering by one of the ill-fated cages that had held small creatures oh so many years ago. This feeling that itches up along his spine, that Snape can see through him, see the vial in his desk drawer, can somehow feel its effects on him. He convinces himself that he's being foolish, and tries his best to avoid looking guilty (it's been too many years now since he could pass for innocent). He makes a vague agreement to Snape's question about grading essays, but it seems to only serve as a springboard for Snape to launch into a scathing commentary on how mandrakes grow.
He knows. Of course he does; he realizes that it was foolish to think he could get away with this, that Snape would realize the difference. He half expected he would have been pulled out of bed when the potion-master noticed, but it was a risk he'd had to take. His use might be clearly bordering on addiction by this point, but he's not sure about what else he could do to deal with this. Admitting his guilt would probably be the best course of action, hope that he's somehow feeling forgiving (he never is).
"Granger always was an insufferable know-it-all," Draco comments, quietly reordering the papers he has left to grade. He's not entirely sure what to say, because if Snape knows the potion he's making (and that could be the only thing that led him here, instead of some troublemaking students) that means he knows what Draco's suffering from, the things he's trying to hide. It leaves unpleasant things like explanations, and it somehow seems easier to pretend that neither of them know what's going on here. Draco always is drawn to the bad decision.
"I'll admit I always found practical studies more engaging than legend and myths." He's not sure exactly how he expects this to end, but he knows it won't end well. Realizes that Snape isn't about to just turn around and walk away, and that they're talking about more than just the monetary value of the supplies. Draco's guilt, his nervousness shows through, the way he shirks back, downcast eyes, the shake of his hands.
no subject
He knows. Of course he does; he realizes that it was foolish to think he could get away with this, that Snape would realize the difference. He half expected he would have been pulled out of bed when the potion-master noticed, but it was a risk he'd had to take. His use might be clearly bordering on addiction by this point, but he's not sure about what else he could do to deal with this. Admitting his guilt would probably be the best course of action, hope that he's somehow feeling forgiving (he never is).
"Granger always was an insufferable know-it-all," Draco comments, quietly reordering the papers he has left to grade. He's not entirely sure what to say, because if Snape knows the potion he's making (and that could be the only thing that led him here, instead of some troublemaking students) that means he knows what Draco's suffering from, the things he's trying to hide. It leaves unpleasant things like explanations, and it somehow seems easier to pretend that neither of them know what's going on here. Draco always is drawn to the bad decision.
"I'll admit I always found practical studies more engaging than legend and myths." He's not sure exactly how he expects this to end, but he knows it won't end well. Realizes that Snape isn't about to just turn around and walk away, and that they're talking about more than just the monetary value of the supplies. Draco's guilt, his nervousness shows through, the way he shirks back, downcast eyes, the shake of his hands.