"Are you coming, Potter?" Cheerleaders in Harry's head started dancing and waving pompoms. The image thoroughly disturbed him, so he ignored it. It had taken the better part of a month filled with chance meetings and one-sided encounters, but Draco was finally starting to accept Harry as…an acquaintance? A friend? Whatever it was, Draco was going to Hogsmede with some friends, acquaintances, whatever, and he asked Harry, almost as though he assumed he was coming.
"Sure. Let me grab a cloak."
Draco's eyes flicked to the staircase that led up to the Gryffindor tower, then the one down into the dungeons. "Yes, you do that. We will meet here in ten minutes."
Harry nodded and sprinted off up the stairs. He ran, panting, into the seventh year dorms and dragged up his emerald cloak. Some time ago, having realized the use it would be, he had cut a pocket on the inside where he could tuck the lighter weight invisibility cloak. He did this now and started out of the room. Suddenly, he turned around and ran back to his bedside table to grab a piece of parchment with seven names written on it: Pansy, Blaise, Neville, Hermione, Ron, Audrey and Eric.
Again, he made to leave the room, but this time he was blocked in. Dean, Seamus, Ron, and Neville were standing just inside the door all looking impatient. It seemed that Dean was the spokesman. "Harry, have you completed your dare yet?"
Harry blinked. They were checking up on him. Thinking about it, dares didn't usually take this long. "No, but I am well on the way. Half is completed, I know his deepest secret. However –"
Ron interrupted. "What is it?"
Harry's mind flashed back to the list. The list of people nearby when Draco had blushed, the list of people who might answer the burning "who?" in his mind. Ron was on that list. "I can't tell you."
"What?" Ron looked dumbstruck. "Why not?"
"Well, what if you're the person he's keeping it from? I mean, that's the part I'm still trying to figure out. And, to be frank, I am missing a golden opportunity as we speak."
The boys looked at each other. They trusted Harry. They moved aside.
He hopped onto a railing at the top of the stairs and was suddenly grateful that all of the times when he did this and nearly killed himself were in the past. He neatly transitioned from one staircase to the next, alighting to the floor, his cloak billowing behind him, before the gathered Slytherins.
There was a brief silence before Draco spoke. "We almost left without you."
"Sorry."
The blonde turned and walked away toward the doors with his posse in tow. As Harry fell into the group, he noticed who of all was there. Crabbe and Goyle walked right behind Draco. Harry hadn't considered them for the list. No, Draco didn't respect them enough. Behind them was Pansy Parkinson. She was on the list. Harry had considered the assumption of the school that Draco and Pansy were betrothed. No one really knew for sure, but they were the purest blood in the school. Either way, Draco most likely respected her above the rest of the school. There were a couple others in the group, but Harry didn't know them well and he got the feeling Draco didn't either.
When they reached the street to go to Hogsmede, people shifted about a bit. Pansy got closer to Draco and they began a conversation. Harry managed to get close enough to hear, even though Crabbe and Goyle remained between him and the purebloods.
"…the game this weekend?" Pansy's voice floated back t him.
"I booked the pitch for Thursday night. The Hufflepuffs wanted it but," he sighed, "first come first serve."
"So you're saying they already –"
"You know how these things work," Draco briskly cut her off with a wave of his hand. "I expect to see you and the others at seven o'clock."
Harry had forgotten that Pansy was a chaser this year. Draco was the captain, Harry's opposite number. Pansy nodded, "I'll tell –"
Draco interrupted again. "I will inform my own team, Parkinson." His eyes flashed; she had stepped over the line. "Just be on time." Pansy flushed; anger briefly danced in her eyes.
"Yes, Draco." Then she did something Harry had never seen her do. She broke eye contact with Draco and lowered her eyes, slowing down and falling back.
Draco, now lacking a conversational partner, turned to Crabbe and Goyle, his beaters. "Crabbe, Goyle, tell the team. Seven o'clock, Thursday night. I want everyone there. It's very important that we practice before we play Gryffindor this weekend." For the first time, his eyes flickered to Harry, seemingly noticing him for the first time.
"Organizing a team is a lot of work, eh Potter?"
Harry double stepped to catch up, slipping between Crabbe and Goyle. "Yeah, it can be difficult." He didn't want to tread on Draco's authority, but he personally felt that stealing the pitch from Hufflepuff and alienating one of his chasers was bad management. He looked over his shoulder at Pansy. Draco followed his gaze.
"Parkinson? Girls can be a bit finicky, you must know that. They're probably your team's only weakness."
Harry stared at Draco. He didn't even seem to think that he had just said something completely ludicrous. But Harry couldn't alienate him now. "Well, I think they do a pretty good job."
Draco scoffed, Harry managed not to cringe. "Your team would be flawless without them. Our team probably would be too, but I had to take Parkinson on. She's the purest blood in the school, aside from me, and her father, well, he's making certain contributions and…not making others, based on her placement." Draco looked pained. "Girls don't belong in quidditch."
Harry spent an awkward fifteen minutes in an incredibly polite argument with Draco over women's rights on the pitch. He just kept telling himself that Draco was a reflection of his father. He didn't formulate these opinions on his own. But how could anyone call quidditch "the Man's sport"? Harry knew a lot of muggle sports where it might be more difficult for girls to start playing, but quidditch was even, there was nothing that girls find physically any more difficult than boys. And they often had really good ideas.
Finally, they reached the Three Broomsticks. Harry backed off as Draco got them all a table. As they sat down, he found himself to Pansy's left. Draco was across the table. Madam Rosmerta came by to take their drink orders. Harry was only momentarily surprised at the number of different colorful drinks the Slytherins ordered. A few eyes flickered his way when he asked for a butterbeer.
Conversation was polite and somewhat forced. Harry found it a bit uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat a bit and sipped at his butterbeer, only responding when he was addressed. Then, out of nowhere, he felt a foot on his leg, a stocking foot. He froze. The toes messed a bit with the edge of his pant leg, pushing it up his calf. He pulled his leg away. Some thirty seconds later, the foot was back. Then a hand on his knee. Finally, he looked to his right. Pansy smiled at him and continued running her foot up and down his leg. He slid to the left a bit. She followed. Then, she stopped, hissing, as suddenly as she had started. He looked at her again. There was pain in her face and anger in her eyes; but it wasn't directed at Harry, she was glaring daggers at Draco. He looked to Draco, catching a concerned and almost…possessive...look in his eyes before he swung his gaze down the table to talk to someone further down.
Harry decided that, at this point, he could probably make an excuse and get out. "If you will all excuse me, I need to work on my team's plays for this weekend, my schedule is tight and we have practice tomorrow." He stood, then nodded to both ends of the table, trying to preserve the level of respect the Slytherins maintained.
As he made his way back to the school, he mentally crossed Pansy off the "Possiblities List," as he was coming to think of it. Draco obviously lacked any respect for her as an individual. He had to respect her family, her bloodline. Now, what was he going to do for the rest of the day?
