| От London |
| От London |
With a nasty smile and a shrug, Zacharias flicked his wand. “Liberacorpus.” Malfoy dropped like a stone into the fountain water, throwing a cold spray of water over the nearest bystanders.
“There you are, Potter, as requested. He’s all nice and wet for you, as well.” Harry’s face heated as another round of titters passed through the crowd. Trying his best to ignore them, he stepped forward to offer Malfoy a hand from the pool.
Malfoy, however, ignored his outstretched fingers. Though sopping wet and undoubtedly freezing, he straightened himself up without assistance, raised his chin defiantly, and somehow projected a perfect facade of sneering superiority.
He stepped gracefully from the fountain and right up into Smith’s face. “It’s funny,” he drawled, looking Smith up and down with distaste. “For all your talk about Potter’s preferences and my own, I notice you’re the only one going around hexing men’s trousers off. Thou dost protest too much, methinks.”
With a haughty sniff, Malfoy brushed past him, the stunned crowd parting quietly to let him pass.
“Yeah? What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy?” Smith called after him.
Ron stepped up to Smith, grinning malevolently. “It’s Muggle for ‘It takes one to know one.’ You do know what that means, don’t you, Smith?”
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