Hermione attempted to avoid Malfoy over the following days. Hedwig had been intercepted mid-flight, leaving Harry with an injured owl and it was after a puzzling Potions lesson that she saw him again. He was busy boasting to his friends about his father's influence within the ministry, as usual.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry... it'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"Don't rise," Hermione implored Harry and Ron, who both had their fists clenched and their faces stony. She felt a surge of anger for Malfoy. "It's what he wants."

"I mean," Malfoy continued, who'd clearly heard her and whose eyes were glittering as malevolently as Snape's, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance... from what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years... and as for Potter... my father says it's only a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St Mungo's... apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."

He made a grotesque face that made Hermione shrivel up in fury and that caused Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy immense pleasure, and suddenly, Neville charged past them, heading directly for Malfoy. Was Neville standing up for Harry and Ron, or was it more than that? After all, it was Ron who'd told him 'he's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier.' 

For a moment, Malfoy looked extremely shocked, genuinely shocked, even though Hermione knew he didn't show anything other than triumph and anger very often, but then Crabbe and Goyle jumped in front of him, preparing for a fight. Unfortunately, Snape appeared, ready to dish out detentions and did in fact succeed to dock ten points from Gryffindor. Snape shouldn't give Gryffindor detentions and dock points whenever Malfoy was about to be attacked, otherwise Slytherin would win the House Cup every year. The class flocked inside the dungeon more subdued.

*

It wasn't in Malfoy's best interests, given that Umbridge was watching, to not pay attention to his Strengthening Solution, but listening to her and Snape's conversation was far more hilarious. Ordering to have the Strengthening Solution removed from the syllabus; the Minister clearly believed they had an army at Hogwarts, even though Fudge himself was rumoured to have an army of Heliopaths. Draco wasn't the biggest fan of the Quibbler but he always carried the latest edition round with him just to have a laugh at Xenophilius Lovegood's expense. Then his godfather had his comeback.

"Now... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Umbridge had her quill poised, most probably to write something unfavourable.

"Fourteen years," Snape replied, happy to keep his expression unfathomable.

"You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" 

He was beginning to get a headache from her girlish tone. It was bad enough with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil in most of his classes.

"Yes," Snape answered quietly, no doubt reading his mind; his headache eased a little.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

Snape's lip curled, a sign Draco knew to be that his professor was either on the verge of smirking or exploding with rage. 

"Obviously."

"And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes." 

Snape was doing his favourite ventriloquist act, still quiescent, which meant that the professor was the latter: absolutely livid.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" 

Draco thought now that Umbridge was just being annoyingly nosy.

Snape said jerkily, "I suggest you ask him." 

It was clearly not a happy topic.

"Oh, I shall," Umbridge happily replied, with a sickeningly sweet smile.

Snape had his eyes narrowed, filled with every ounce of loathing he possessed, which was, as many knew, a lot. 

"I suppose this is relevant?" He questioned.

"Oh yes," Umbridge seemed joyful, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' – er – backgrounds."

She was clearly referring to his previous disposition as a Death Eater, but from what Draco knew, Snape still was one, otherwise Dumbledore wouldn't have denied him the job he so envied and his father would have severed all connections with the teacher. It was with unnaturally good acting that he pasted a smile on his face as Umbridge walked over to question Pansy on the standard of the lessons. 

To Draco's pleasure, Pansy replied that they were 'strictly supervised', that 'accidents rarely happened under Professor Snape's watchful eye' and that they'd 'never failed to achieve high marks' in his class. Draco felt like sniggering. Pansy was lying through her teeth; she'd never got higher than an A, and accidents were allowed to happen, generally because they occurred when the stupid Gryffindors exploded their potions, or Goyle, he supposed.

"And Mr Malfoy," she said, turning to him, "how would you rate your Potions' lessons?"

"Far more informative than certain subjects," Draco assured her. Umbridge's eyes narrowed.

"Are you taking the mickey out of a senior member of the Ministry?" She asked angrily, puffing up like a bullfrog.

"No, Miss," Draco acted surprised. Time to get rid of his least favourite teachers. "Well, you see, there's Divination, which Professor Trelawney makes positively dull, Astronomy is never fun because everyone's yawning with Professor Sinistra at midnight and Care of Magical Creatures is frankly very dangerous."

"And Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Umbridge asked, her eyes widening again.

"It's great, Professor!" Draco enthused. "You learn so much more with the theory, I think. Only Quirrell was as good as you, but he did smell of garlic as he was on the run from vampires," he tried to sound sympathetic. Draco thought he was doing well to sound like a spoilt child.

"Very well."

He saw Snape give him a tight smile, or as close to a smile as the professor could achieve, and he smirked back. Then he rushed out of the classroom as soon as the bell went to follow Umbridge.