CHAPTER FOUR FEATURES: Tennis Terminology (I hope you're a bit familiar with the game. If not, you'll be a little confused, and you'll miss out on some really great metaphors, but it's just a small bit) and Realizations That Should Have Been Made At Least Two Chapters Ago

"Serena!" Draco whined. "You can't do this to me!"

"Do... what, exactly?" she asked.

"Put me in this position!"

"What... position, exactly?"

Draco scowled. "This whole you - them - friends thing! It's just not going to work," he finished matter-of-factly.

"This whole me - them - friends thing?" She snorted. "Not bloody likely. I was forced to spend the summer with them, no need to go bonkers over it."

'Them' frowned.

"Well, come sit with me, then," Draco suggested.

"Thought you'd never ask," she replied, jumping up and grabbing her trunk.

"Well, bye, then," said Harry. Serena looked back for a moment, startled, but didn't respond.

Serena coughed.

Pansy coughed.

Draco delicately cleared his throat.

"So, um, how was your lot's summer?" Serena asked nervously. Nervously! Blaise, Pansy, Theodore, Draco; these were her friends, why the hell was she nervous? What the hell was going on?

"How was yours?" asked Pansy, voice sickly-sweet and malicious.

Serena's eyes narrowed. "It pretty much sucked."

"That's too bad," she replied, in the same honeyed tones.

"Isn't it," Serena agreed icily.

"I heard about the attack-"

Serena tossed her head and looked out the window. "I'll bet you did."

"Excuse me?" Pansy's voice shed its oily quality and battled Serena's for sharpness.

Serena looked back at Pansy with raised eyebrows. "Well, it was in all the papers, wasn't it?" she asked airily.

"Oh, I wouldn't know about all that muck in the society pages," Pansy replied.

Serena's expression became one of detached surprise as she looked back out through the window. "Really? Can't imagine how you would have heard about it, then."

The others' eyes darted back and forth between the girls as though it was a tennis match. Serena had delivered a tough shot, would Pansy be able to return?

"Well, they say bad news travels fast." Pansy saved the ball, albeit a rather poor lob.

"But of course," Serena agreed, running up to meet it. "Even faster if you're in the right circles." Drop-shot.

Instead of the surprise and anger that usually accompanied such cheap shots, Pansy smirked. "And I am. In all the right circles." Overhead smash.

Serena could see Pansy's eyes dancing with laughter when she saw that the point was hers. Serena's own were about to be swimming in tears. Ever since Draco had introduced them three years ago, they had been great friends. What had happened? What had changed? Pansy was obviously a Death Eater, wanted to become one, or wanted Serena to think it. Was it something to do with the attack? Her father's words echoed in her head, "Do you know why your home was attacked? No? Did it ever occur to you that that is the question you should be asking?"

"...Come on, Pansy, don't be like that," Draco was saying.

"Draco, shut up. You don't know anything," she said.

"I know that you're being completely ridiculous," he spat back.

"You're the one being stupid, Draco," said Pansy, shaking her head - in disappointment or something else, Serena didn't know, and she didn't really care, either. All she wanted was to get out of there. So she did.

"Serena..." Draco said. She shut the door in his face.

Pansy put a hand on his shoulder. "It's better this way," she said.

He pushed it away. "You didn't have to do that to her, you know. It was... completely unnecessary."

"No, Draco, it was." She sighed. "I hope you don't think I enjoyed that. She was my friend, too, or have you forgotten?"

"Looked like you enjoyed. A lot."

"It's called acting, Draco," she retorted. "Maybe you should try it sometime. Merlin, you wear your heart on your freaking sleeve. It's going to get you killed," she practically cried. When he said nothing, she continued in a harder voice. "It's her or us, Draco. Think about it."

Draco looked at Pansy, then at Blaise and Theodore. They were just as determined as Pansy. Maybe more so, as they and Serena had never really been that close. He sat down next to Pansy, who smiled in a relieved way, and tried to ignore the guilt in the pit of his stomach.

Serena spent the rest of the ride in the bathroom, crying. What was going on? What was wrong with all of them? What was wrong with her? She wiped her eyes and tried to think of something that had changed, something that would make Pansy hate her so much. A lot had changed since Serena had seen the other girl last, but Death Eaters attacking her house could hardly account for her sudden animosity. "Do you know why your home was attacked? No? Did it ever occur to you that that is the question you should be asking?" Maybe Pansy knew something she didn't. Serena replayed the scene in her mind. It certainly seemed as though Pansy was boasting her knowledge. In fact, it seemed as though Pansy assumed Serena had known what she was talking about. At first Serena had just assumed she was hinting about the death of her mother, but now she wasn't so sure. Did Pansy know why her house was attacked? Pansy's voice, mocking and sinister in its innocence, rang in her head, asking, "But why did your father take you out of Durmstrang?" Serena felt like she knew the answer to that question. What had her father said before, when they were discussing the school? That it was behind Hogwarts, yes, but he had said something else, too, hadn't he? Yes, when he was talking about the "ethical situation", he'd said that when he'd had to pretend to be a spy, Durmstrang was the best solution, but he hadn't said why...

Wait. That was it.

When he'd had to pretend to be a spy.

Which implied that he no longer had to do so.

And seeing as the Dark Lord wasn't one to whom you could hand a resignation letter, that meant he had been caught.

Which was why his only remaining blood's home had been attacked.

And Pansy knew.

Which explained a lot.

But luckily, Serena had a cunning plan.

Well, not so much a plan as a vague idea.

And not so much cunning as desperate.

She would talk to them.