Chapter 2: I-will-kill-you-if-you-make-a-SINGLE-sound Silence

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Harry was stuffing his mouth with oatmeal while trying to figure out why somebody had thought it was a good idea to turn off the lights in the Great hall.

"Mate… why are you eating with your eyes closed?" Ron asked incredulously.

That explains it. Harry pried his eyelids open and sighed.

"It's nothing, I am tired."

"That seems to be the norm with you and Hermione…" Ron chewed on his food, irritably. Harry wanted to assure Ron that he had nothing to be jealous about but before he could, Hermione arrived. Her step was bouncy and both Ron and Harry perked up to hear what amazing thing she had come to tell them.

"Oh! Boys! I just talked to professor…"

The chatter of the students eating breakfast seemed to absorb Hermione's voice. No matter how hard Harry tried he couldn't divide the cluster of sounds assaulting his eardrums. He slurped up some more orange juice, with his last strength, deciding to rest his head for a second. He pushed his half-finished plate out of the way and placed his head on the cool wood. Comfortable…

"Harry!"

The earthquake was calling Harry's name. He really didn't feel like dealing with that now.

"Harry! We are going to be late."

Late to where?

Suddenly everything was flooding and Harry jumped out of his seat, water dripping from his eyebrows.

"Not my underwear!" he blurted. Flushing right after, he glanced around, but besides Hermione and Ron, who were giggling, there was nobody close enough to hear.

"Oh, man, Harry…" Ron snickered, putting an empty glass of water back on the table.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione seemed more sympathetic. She extended her hand to the boy who had landed straight on his bum. "We are late for Charms," she said as Harry took her hand. He would have done so sullenly, but he was too tired to muster anything more than a weak glare.

Harry dragged himself cursing his tiredness. Last night he had stayed with Pansy after Malfoy had so dramatically abandoned his friend. Harry wasn't sure the blond even knew what that word meant. They had had lemon cake, it had been… Harry struggled to pull words from his sluggish brain. Not catastrophic. They had disagreed on many topics and she couldn't care less about Quidditch, but… she could talk endlessly about books. Not textbooks, but novels, story books, fairy tales and so on. They had quickly not-not bonded over their love for Patrick Rothfuss. Harry had expressed his surprise that she would enjoy a muggle author and she, after a second of consideration, had revealed that she couldn't care whether the person was a wizard or a Muggle as long as the books made her laugh and cry.

Harry had accompanied her to the entrance to the Slytherin common room, making sure they didn't get caught. Pansy had raised her eyebrows at the Marauder's map but swallowed her curiosity and they had parted ways not quite as hostile as they had been before. Harry then had returned to his common room which had been so warm that he had fallen asleep in the middle of trying to start writing the essay. His friends had woken him up after what had felt like mere seconds, with questions about why he was sleeping on the couch, unfinished homework stuck to his face.

His drowsy mind hadn't been able to come up with a better excuse than Malfoy.

That had been what had happened inherently, but his friends know him too well and had drilled the whole story out of him before they had reached the Great hall. After expressing how pleased she was with Harry's attitude, Hermione had run off to talk to some poor professor who was making his way to the first meal of the day.

They entered the Charms' classroom no more than two minutes late, but students had already taken their seats and professor started the topic of the day.

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Unbelievable.

Potter and his trusty sidekicks had just stormed in the classroom, ten minutes late and the professor hadn't even bat an eye. Draco snorted, refocusing on his textbook, the silly man in front of the class, looked like he was about to fall from the book stack that he was balancing on.

Despite the fact that Draco had left the Kitchens at a considerably reasonable hour, he felt like he had been awake all night. He had kept startling awake from confusing nightmares about angry fat men with small eyes, dressed in button ups. They had demanded him to write story plots for them, saying that otherwise they will be eaten alive by slrignaf… whatever that was. As always the dream finished with a dose of scorching fire, sending Draco in an amok run for his life that ended in him falling out of his bed… twice.

Pansy had tried to talk to him before breakfast, but he had ignored her. She had looked fine. Mental break down – over. Thankfully. Draco wasn't sure if he could support her very well, Slytherins didn't have such problems often, or when they did, they dealt with them by themselves. Comforting wasn't his area of expertise.

Good thing she has Potter now.

Draco's wand exploded, sending the dummy he was supposed to levitate to shoot across the class, barely missing someone's head. Potter's head. Everyone looked at him, googling, like they had nothing better to stare at. How about the friend-stealing-Gryffindor-that-everyone-thinks-is-something-special?

"What are you staring at?" he snarled, shooting an angry glare, but not meeting anyone's eyes.

The lesson resumed.

"Draco?"

The blond picked up his wand again, turning away from Pansy. It was hard considering they were sitting right next to each other.

"Draco, please…"

"I am fine, Pansy. Go swoon over your new friend, leave me alone."

"Okay, I'm done." Pansy rolled her eyes, grabbing Draco by his wand hand, unceremonially dragging him out of the classroom. Out of other's earshots, Pansy let her friend's hand go, putting her arms around herself.

"You have been attacking me every time I try to talk to you. I am not friends with Potter," she hissed. "He is a complete tosser…"

Draco stared at her with blank eyes.

"I am just tired of living in fear… I told you."

Draco's face illuminated.

"You're just using him," he stated, relieved. The pressure on his chest that had been there since last night lessened. "Thank Merlin! I thought you really had gone off the deep end…"

"I'm not using him per say…" she denied, but looking up at Draco's don't-bullshit-me expression lifted her hands. "Fine. I might have weighted the cons and pros to being on Potter's good side."

"So you're not abandoning me for a black-haired moron?"

"I would never! Draco. We have been through so much together, don't you trust me more than that?"

"Never trust a Slytherin, they say," Draco responded. "But I know about your crush on a Hufflepuff, so…"

"Well, I know about your crush on a Gryffindor…"

"I have no such thing!"

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Pansy and Malfoy returned to the class when everyone was already packing, Harry watched them as they slid their books in to their bags. They seemed to have resolved their argument

Good.

As much as Malfoy irritated him, it was good that Pansy wasn't left alone.

Ron and Hermione had run off to blow off some steam, but that left Harry with the perfect opportunity to approach Pansy. Standing outside the class, he puffed, digging in his bag for the parchment with the timetable.

"Potter," Pansy greeted him with a nod, exiting the classroom. Malfoy, who was walking beside her, looked him over with his stone eyes – maybe silver – but didn't seem about to punch him right away.

"Parkinson… er… Pansy?" Harry wavered, not feeling the surname, but name was almost just as weird.

"For Merlin's sake, spare us your stammering," Malfoy drawled, rolling his eyes. Pansy elbowed him in the ribs, watching Harry.

"Lady is fine," she said, twirling her hairs around her finger. Harry felt his neck go hot. She isn't flirting with me, is she? He shook his head, smiling nervously. Her grin seemed to be announcing trouble.

"I just wanted to ask if you were okay."

"I'm fine. We Slytherins are different from Gryffindors."

"Obviously."

She snickered, dropping her hand to her hip.

"For example… I didn't get as much as minute of sleep last night."

Harry stared at her unbelieving.

"Doesn't look like it, does it?" she smiled flicking her hair with her hand.

Harry shook his head. She looked as collected as always, hair combed, uniform spotless, not even her eyes were red. Nothing that could hint at the previous night's ordeal.

"WELL, I will be going to the next class, you two…" Malfoy pointed with is fingers from one to other, "can just elope, in that cupboard, but I do not want to see it."

"Draco."

"Malfoy!"

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They both looked at him with the same shocked expressions, it made Draco's spine crawl.

Creepy.

He shuddered, deciding that Pansy was on her own this time. Befriending Potter – no matter how profitable – made Draco feel nauseous. He would make his exit while he could so with dignity, doesn't matter that it felt like Pansy was abandoning him. She wasn't.

Draco stalked off to the next lesson.

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After Malfoy had stormed off, Harry looked back at Pansy.

"I thought you weren't fighting anymore."

"We're not," was all she said. Harry raised his eyebrows, but she didn't explain further. "What's the next lesson?"

"For me? Erm… Potions," Harry answered, glancing at the ripped parchment in his hand.

"That makes the two of us, let's go. We can't have our Saviour wondering about the dungeons alone." Pansy stalked off her proud head high, Harry followed her wondering whether the Pansy he had seen the night before was someone else.

Potions were going reasonably well, Harry had had to pair up with Pansy as they had arrived at one time, but it wasn't all that bad. In fact Harry found himself warming up to the girl more and more. At the end of the lesson, they were asked to hand in their homework. As Harry had nothing to submit he approached the professor.

"Professor?" he asked. Behind him a person coughed. "Could you please, let me submit it tomorrow?"

Yermolay Vengerov looked at him and smiled. Not feeling reassured as the smile more reminded him of a shark, Harry tried to think of a good excuse.

"Mr Malfoy!" professor called. Harry looked over his shoulder, the Slytherin had been hastily exiting the class, now he glared at Harry and stalked back to the front of the classroom.

"Yes?" he said, eying Harry with a hateful glare.

"I believe I don't have your homework on my desk…" professor Vengerov lulled, "but I do have one labelled 'Harry Potter' in a significantly neater handwriting than the usual scribbles I have to decipher." He looked at both of the boys over his glasses. "Care to explain?"

"Well…" Malfoy started, but professor interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

"Wait…" he said, "I don't care." Then he set fire to the essay with the incorrect name. "Detention. Both."

…

"Great!" Malfoy complained after the door to the murky classroom had fallen closed behind them. "Just wonderful, Potter."

"How the hell was I supposed to know you were going to do that?"

"I said I would do your stupid homework, didn't I, scar-face?"

"You should have said something, ferret-face." Harry felt his face heat up. Malfoy was insufferable and to think he had actually thought he had seen a human the night before.

"You should have known better. Typical Gryffindor – quick to do stupid shit."

"Because it's so Slytherin-like to do as promised."

Malfoy looked affronted.

"YES. Potter."

"You're a slimy little snake, Malfoy, I would never hold you to your word."

"I hate you, scar-brain."

"I…" Harry choked. He was irritated by the blond, but he didn't hate him. Not after the war, not after working in Ministry. He had found out so many back stories, it sickened him to think about what had Malfoy and other pure-blooded children had gone through in their youth.

"What, Potter, did you choke on your tiny brain?"

"We are late," Harry said not meeting Slytherin's eyes. He didn't feel like arguing anymore, he felt tired.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in surprise, but didn't say anything. When Harry glanced at him again, he was wearing his thinking face. Don't ask how Harry knew what Malfoy's thinking face looked like. Being obsessed with a person for a couple of years has its perks.

Soon Malfoy was in front of Harry who happily followed the long-legged Slytherin to the next lesson. Harry noticed that Malfoy glanced at him a couple of times, but he just figured he was looking if Harry wasn't going to attack him from behind. What an arse, to think Harry would fall that low. As they neared the classroom, Harry was on the verge of asking the Slytherin, what was he bloody smirking about.

Malfoy as if knowing what battle was happening in Harry's mind, grinned. Harry's hand clenched around his wand, his eyes followed to where Malfoy was pointing.

"Shit."

"I wonder how many lessons you can be late to before professors have enough," Malfoy said smugly, dropping his hand.

"Fuck. Malfoy." Harry turned on his heel. Running down the corridor he turned his head shouting at the holding in laughter Malfoy. "I REALLY don't like you!"

When he slouched down in the correct lesson, Malfoy's laughter still echoing in his ears, all he could muster was: "I am going to get him for this."

Hermione rolled her eyes, returning to listening to professor Binns. Ron startled out of his half-asleep state, questioningly wiggling his eyebrows at Harry.

...

Harry proudly fell back in to one of the armchairs – he had not been late for any of the afternoon classes and he had an hour before his Quidditch practise. Hermione's brought news that he had two essays to finish before that, made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He was so tired.

"Harry," it was Hermione's voice. But… what was she doing, dressed like a toothbrush?

"Mate!" it was Ron… but he had an ears of a donkey. Harry decided to continue running from a muffin that was angry about his haircut. What an idiot. I told him – I was a plumber before.

"Harry! Malfoy is up to something!"

Next thing Harry knew he was staring at Ron who was red with laughter. Confused he looked around, surveying the common room.

"Harry, put away your wand," Hermione said in a calming voice.

"Wha…" Harry cleared his throat. "What?"

"You're late for your practice."

"What? No…" Harry groaned, getting up. "Ron! What are you chortling about?"

"He is an immature ass, Harry, don't worry." Hermione regarded her boyfriend with slight disappointment.

"You still love me," Ron smirked, stealing a kiss over Hermione's book.

"Ron! Aren't we late?" Harry asked, his voice only hinting at the desperation he felt, he was so tired.

"Yes, you are!" Hermione called, shoving the red-head slightly.

...

Next day was Saturday, but instead of it being a so longed for respite, Harry had to get up bright and early. Using professor's McGonagall's hearth, he arrived to the ministry through a specially arranged Floo connection. Breakfast he had had at the castle, but Soyer was waiting for him at the fireplace with a mug off steaming coffee which made him last through the day.

At the beginning of the school year they had agreed that Harry would spend one day a week completely devoted to the ministry's ordeals and the rest furthering his education. So he did. The hope to return to the castle in time for dinner had been an illusion he had stopped having since one time he only got out of his office when it was already time for Sunday's breakfast. Only sheer spite and knowledge that if he wouldn't do it, no one would, kept him going.

Harry held to a hope that by the end of the year he could get back to Hogwarts in time for dinner. That was his goal.

Coming back at midnight, he collapsed in his bed and slept through till Sunday's lunch. Ron woke him up on Hermione's orders and they together went to the great hall.

"Ah! And, Harry, Parkinson was looking for you yesterday," Hermione informed him as they sat down. Ron choked on the bread he had already managed to stuff in his mouth.

"What?" he forced, spluttering. Hermione looked at him disgusted.

"Listen to me, Ronald. You get your manners straight or…"

"Sorry, 'Mione…" Ron sat down.

Harry noted the information but didn't dwell on it. He barely kept his head above the ocean of the homework he was late on as it was. He didn't have any spare time for anyone, even for suicidal...

Oh, look at that, I have a lot of free time actually.

After filling his howling stomach he felt much more awake and considerably more positive. His eyes travelled to the Slytherin table, Pansy and Malfoy were sitting next to each other, eating lemon cake. Malfoy was glaring at Harry.

What in the hell did I do now?

When Pansy noticed that Harry was looking at them her hand shook, so violently, she spilled orange juice over the Slytherin on the other side of her. Harry lowered his eyes.

When the pair of Slytherins got up, Harry left Ron and Hermione happily sharing a piece of chocolate cake. He approached the pair in the empty Entrance hall.

"Pansy! Hei, what did you want yesterday?"

Malfoy looked at Harry like he was the cause to all his problems - even more so than usual - and strolled off, leaving Pansy rolling her eyes.

"Just Draco was being the absolutely bitchiest bitch, because you skipped the detention on Friday."

"Shit. I forgot."

"That's what I told him, but he wouldn't shut up about it so I suggested finding you and taking it out on you."

"That's nice of you…"

"Come on, you get off on arguing with him too."

"What? I do not."

That caused the girl to giggle like somebody put a hex on her. Harry pouted until she could speak in whole sentences again.

"You know what? You're so like Draco, now I know why we clicked."

"I am NOTHING like him."

"Okay, okay. Don't get your Gryffindor pants in a twist."

"Well, I was working yesterday. I am working every Saturday, so it's pretty pointless to search for me then... just for future knowledge."

"Oh, okay." She looked to the direction where Malfoy had gone, but then turned back to Harry. "We were going to go to the library, Draco is insisting on getting flawless grades this year," she said her voice conveying the likeness of that outcome. "He wanted no detentions too, but then he remembered you, and dropped that dream." That caused Harry to snicker. "But what I am saying is – maybe you want to come with us?"

Harry blinked. Twice.

"Come with you and Malfoy? To the library? To not commit a homicide?" he felt the need to make sure.

"Yes," Pansy said. Harry had the notion that she was keeping in an insult... or a couple. She is actually attempting to be civil… even nice.

Creepy.

"Yes, I could join you." Harry heard himself agreeing. "But I need to warn Ron and Hermione. Meet you there?"

"Okay," she agreed, trailing off in the direction of the library.

Harry shook his head at the situations he got himself in willingly, but decided to follow through.

When he told his friends what he was planning on doing, Ron jokingly insisted that Hermione should check Harry for curses. The witch dismissed her boyfriend viciously, praising Harry for overstepping his childish prejudices. Harry shut Ron up by saying that he was just trying to get better grades without taking up too much of Hermione's time. At which, both of his friends beamed at each other. Merlin knew, they wanted all the time in the world.

Wishing him luck they left him at the library's doors. Harry took two deep breaths, mentally preparing to enter but in the middle of the second a third year Ravenclaw tossed the doors open a furious librarian on his heels. Harry slipped past them out of the way, hearing madam Pince's sharp voice while looking for the two Slytherins.

He found them sitting in one of the further corners of the library, occupying a space worth of six people but the library was empty as it was Sunday. Harry groaned quietly. It was Sunday. His only relatively free day.

Nevertheless Malfoy had already noticed him so it was too late to turn back. The blond only spared him a half of a second then he bored back in to the book that was open in front of him. Harry wondered whether it would catch fire from the intent stare.

"Potter," Pansy greeted.

"Parkinson." Harry hesitated a moment, then his brain went: error! "Malfoy."

The person in question looked at him and Harry remembered why they were nemeses. Because Malfoy just hated him. How motherfucking pleasant. Again confronted with the fact that he couldn't hate Malfoy, Harry sat down avoiding the silver-dagger glare.

Pansy met Malfoy's unwilling eyes that rolled so back in to his head Harry wondered if they would just stick there, but, no, he was soon looking down at his book again. The witch kicked him under the table, causing a hiss, but the Slytherin looked at her again. Harry saw a message pass between them, it only alarmed him partly. What alarmed him was Pansy getting up.

"I need a book," she excused herself and disappeared in the aisles of books with one last pointy look at her house-mate over her shoulder.

Harry was already confused and he became only more confused when he looked at the pale boy sitting opposite him. Malfoy was furiously wriggling a quill in his fingers, not looking at Harry. The Gryffindor felt his stomach lurch with the anticipation – Malfoy looked nervous. What was he looking nervous for? Harry threw a look around, nobody suspicious was to be seen. Am I going to be cursed right now?

"Potter, listen..."

Harry's fingers twitched in a reflex to grab his wand.

"Merlin. Relax, you GAH."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the incoherent insult.

"Pansy insists that I be civil with you," he drawled, evidently unhappy, but forced to comply.

"Is she crazy?" Harry couldn't imagine, being even remotely civilwith the blond snake-boy.

Malfoy looked relieved.

"I know! How can she expect something so unlike us?"

"Girls." Harry bobbed his head, reassured that Malfoy didn't really expect anything impossible. "Hermione keeps nagging me about trying to find the human side of you."

"A human? Side?" Malfoy exclaimed in mock horror. "Excuse me while I go vomit in Pansy's flawless handbag."

"Be my guest, I feel like joining you when I think about you and I being civil. I mean…" Harry met Malfoys eyes over the table. "That's impossible."

"Glad we agree at least on something, Potter." Malfoy shifted in his chair, looking content. "What?"

Harry was still staring. He opened his mouth, but his breath got stuck between his ribs. "We just agreed…" he drew a ragged breath. "Is that considered civil? Because it wasn't that bad…"

Malfoy considered.

"I think, involving the two of us anything that doesn't end in curses flying is civil."

Harry nodded.

When Pansy appeared, peering around the corner, she stopped on the spot, dumbfounded to see the two boys, she had surely thought would already had hexed one another, sitting in a silence that didn't feel I-will-kill-you-if-you-make-a-SINGLE-sound silence. Recovering she couldn't keep a smug smile off her face.

"Hey, boys!" she waved. "I see we still have the right amount of limbs in the right places. Can I officially call it an end of the Malfoy-Potter rivalry era?"

"Oh hell no! Pansy!"

"NO."

They both looked surprised at one another and closed their mouths. Pansy reclaimed her place besides Harry, looking the two up and down.

"You two are similar!"

"WE are not!" They said in one voice.

"Scar-head is a moron."

"Ferret-brain is a slimy git."

»»-¤-««

Draco was having a terrible time concentrating. He was still mentally recovering from speaking in one voice with Potter and from Pansy's manhandling him into being not-so at war with his favourite basket case. Draco considered if it was possible that she had fed him some sort of shroom to make him more cooperative with her manipulations.

In the middle of his musings, he became aware of somebody sighing and puffing every other goddamn second of every shucking minute. Dropping his quill he looked at Potter, who was scratching his forehead with his overused writing-stick. While he looked, the Gryffindor sighed again, pressing the depleted so-called-quill that looked more and more like something taken from the back of a dirty farm animal to his lips. With the next heavy exhale he bit in to it, causing Draco to hold in a groan. Instead he kicked the Gryffindor under the table, successfully stopping the huffs and puffs.

"What?"

"You sound like a fucking train, Potter! What are you trying to do? Invent the philosopher's stone?"

"I am writing the potions essay. If you must know," Potter said, his voice unpleasantly void of the usual passion.

Draco thought for a second, then decided.

"I said I would do it for you, scar-brain," he said, grabbing the parchment that looked like a second year would have written it with his leg and eyes closed. "Merlin…" Draco looked over the wasted paper. When he looked up Potter was looking at him suspiciously.

"Really?" he asked seeing that Draco was looking at him. "We have been fighting since you defiled yourself in to my life and now you're gonna just do my homework?"

"I did what? It was you, who broke in to madam Malkin's and acted like the arrogant golden hero you are."

"You insulted Hagrid before you even said your name! You couldn't have expected me to act any differently. He was the first person to treat me like a human! And you basically reduced him to something lower! You can't just do that! Nobody can. It's wrong. It's what Voldemort did. It's what is wrong with the world. We don't treat each other with respect."

The golden boy was out of breath, thankfully. Draco would have slapped him otherwise.

"I was a child. Raised by an ancient pureblood family. I didn't exactly have all the facts."

Potter had the audacity to look affronted. The git. Then something clicked in the messy-haired gits hollow skull, he cast his eyes down and nodded.

"I am just so done. Muggles discriminate for the colour of your skin and sexuality, wizards for blood and parents…. I mean… why?"

At the last word he met Draco's eyes. The blond felt the wild forest-green eyes seeking an answer, any answer. To his own surprise Draco wanted nothing more than to soothe the deep ache Potter was now uncovering. Instead he lowered his head, glancing at Pansy who had listened and now had a similar vaguely regretful facial expression he felt on his own face.

Potter slouched back in to his chair, sloppily rubbing his eyes. Draco suddenly saw the man, who had taken up the burden of fixing things. He felt a lump in his throat.

...

Draco was having a hard time focusing on the schoolwork. Again.

Pansy, who apparently didn't really plan on studying anything today, was chatting with Potter. To Draco's utmost irritation he kept zoning out of the book he was holding in front of him to the conversation. Potter was just the embodiment of distraction. His voice although the right volume for library was echoing in Draco's skull.

When their talk moved on from muggle novels to the night on the tower, the blond dropped the act of reading. Potter looked at him briefly but continued listening to Pansy who was talking in a detached voice, explaining her reasoning. Draco felt his skin crawl with protectiveness, Pansy was his friend. Potter was some Gryffindor from the side, he didn't have any right to her secrets, yet she shared them anyways. And as surprised as it made Draco, Potter didn't act all high and mighty about it, he didn't act anything like Draco would have guess he would. He was just silent, his eyes focused on the girl. Draco would even say he saw a bit of sadness, but why would the golden hero of the wizarding world be sad for some Death Eater child.

He is such a fucking saviour.

"But now I feel better," Pansy said, surprising Draco. "I really feel silly for being so afraid of you. You're just the purest summer child, you wouldn't harm a fly."

Draco of course agreed, he had said that Potter was harmless since Pansy had voiced her worries. The raven-head was just too good, to be a real concern beyond everyday annoyances.

Potter laughed, the load of worries seemingly bouncing off his shoulders. Draco stared. He is a moron. He is a Gryffindor. He is the golden boy who I HATE very-but-not-so-much-anymore.

Shit.

Noticing that Potter was looking at him questioningly, Draco went back to creating two potions essays.

...

Draco felt the conversation growing as soon as they parted their ways with Potter.

"Listen, Draco…" Pansy said, placing her hand on his elbow. That was a bad sign, it meant she was going to say something he didn't like. "I know you really don't like me spending time with Potter, but…" it seemed like she was shaken by the thought herself, "I think it might actually be helping."

Draco was aware. He didn't like but he wasn't blind. He didn't say anything. She squeezed his arm.

"Not to be all Hufflepuff on you, but… I really can't…" her voice broke.

Draco felt himself holding the dark-haired girl before he could even check whether the hallway was empty. Over her head he surveyed that it in fact was.

"Pansy, I might dislike Potter with a passion, but you're my friend."

He knew she understood as she closed her arms around his torso, burying her head in his shoulder.

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