Warning: Adult language and themes present in this chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other copyrighted characters. Credit is given to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: I'll be a lot busier in the coming weeks, with moving and classes starting back up, but I will have some time to write coming up. If you don't see eleven up in at least two weeks, do feel free to poke me. Hard. That way I won't leave this sitting around for another year. ;) Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! Feedback is always loved. Unless its scathing and hurts my feelings. ;)

Him

Chapter 10

"I saw you kissing when I turned around." Ron shook his head. Harry remained silent as his angry friend stood next to an old, dusty desk, looking as though he wanted to wrestle with it. Should he deny? What good that would do, he didn't know.

"She's no good, Harry," Ron said, unfolding his arms. He stood tall and seemed certain in the truth of the statement, nodding once as though it would help convince. Harry looked up into his friends eyes, feeling his blood begin to boil.

"You don't know her," Harry snapped. He curled his fists as he felt the anger building within him, settling around his ears. Ron snorted and rolled his eyes, walking over to Harry and gripping his shoulder. It was probably meant as a friendly gesture, but it only served to further anger him.

"You don't either, mate. She's bad news. Don't get involved with her." Harry felt something well up inside him; he couldn't decide where it came from, but it hung around his heart and blinded him from rational thought.

"Involved with her?" In a sudden fury he shoved Ron backward, against the door. Caught off guard, Ron's frustration turned into shock as his Harry's furious eyes bore into his.

"What—"

"What is going on between you two?" Harry demanded, his voice carrying to every crevice of the disused room. Why he was getting so angry over someone he wasn't really seeing he didn't know. At the moment, all he knew was anger and jealousy, and he wanted answers.

"Watch'a mean?" Ron spluttered. His ears were red and it didn't go unnoticed by Harry.

"I heard you two talking in the library on Friday." Ron jerked away from Harry, giving him a look as if he had just insulted his mother.

"Nothing!" he snapped darkly, readjusting his bag and smoothing his robes. "There is nothing and will always be nothing. I'm telling you, though, to remember she's no good." And with that Ron threw open the door and slammed it behind him, leaving a burst of dust from the frame to drift slowly through the air. Harry grimaced. Lunch was the furthest thing from his mind.

She was good enough, Harry thought as they sat in their undergarments in her window seat, her back pressed against his chest. It was snowing outside, the grounds covered with fresh white powder that was too bright to stare at directly. There was a small draft pushing past the old window frame, but they used their body heat to keep warm. Pansy gazed off into the distance, melancholy painted upon her face. He didn't want to know what she was thinking.

"We never talk," he said softly. She turned her head and met his probing eyes. His glasses lost somewhere near the bed, she was the only thing in the room he could see clearly. She looked like she hadn't quite heard him.

"We've never talked," she replied, her voice scratchy from disuse. Harry gave her a look but she turned back to the window. Sighing, he pushed her hair over her shoulder and pressed his lips to her back.

"Would you talk to me?" Harry asked, holding her tighter. He couldn't see her face; he didn't know what she was thinking. "Tell me about your life." He felt her exhale quickly with amusement.

"It's not as interesting as yours has been, I assure you," she said, her voice not bothering to mask the humor. Harry smiled and watched the snowflakes fall.

"Good," he replied. There was a pregnant pause before she groaned.

"Well, I was born in Hogsmeade." She pointed out past the trees. "We moved south when I was five, though. My childhood was very boring," she inserted before continuing. "Well, I thought it was exciting at the time, but looking back—

"I only had a few good friends when I was younger. I grew apart from all of them when I came to Hogwarts. I met Draco and the lot when I was sorted into Slytherin. I was always a bratty kid, but I suppose they cultivated who I am today.

"My parents are the epitome of boring. My father works for the ministry. My mother—works for the ministry. Both in the Department of who cares," she began to drawl as she spoke, something he noted she did when she wasn't fond of a subject.

"My father always let me run free. I was pretty much aloud to do anything I wanted, so long as I wasn't breaking ministry law, though I pushed that to the limits a few times. My mother wasn't around often enough to discipline me. I've never been close with my mum. But it's fine. I prefer it that way." Harry had the feeling she hadn't added the last part for his benefit. He frowned.

Harry had something on his mind but held it off for the moment. "And that's your life story?" he asked speculatively. She turned and grinned at him and he gave her an expectant look.

"Basically," she said, "minus a lot of things that I won't bother with unless you're really really curious." There. He pounced on the opportunity. She had practically invited him to ask questions. Frowning, he gave her a serious look.

"Did you and Ron ever—were you two ever together?" Pansy's eyebrows shot up and she scoffed.

"What?" she exclaimed, twisting around and giving him an incredulous look.

"Weasley? Are you mad?"

"I overheard you in the library, talking," he accused, his grip on her loosening. She frowned and turned away from him.

"That's stupid, Harry."

"But I heard you two talking about getting back together." He tried to control it, but a bit of anger seeped into his voice.

"No—"

"I did."

"No!" she snapped. "You didn't. Listen to me. Me and Ron—we—he was my best friend when I was a kid. We did everything together." Her voice grew soft.

"And when I was sorted into Slytherin, well, he was a little more than upset. He saw me as a traitor, I think." She began to draw pictures with her finger on the frosty window pain.

"That really angered me. We grew apart, obviously. But I was very vindictive about it. As you know, I did a lot of things through the years to make him as miserable as possible." She sighed.

"But recently, with the mu—Granger gone, I've felt a little sympathetic towards him. You know? I tried apologizing to him, to mend things between us. I ran into him in the hallway, on my way to the library. But he doesn't want that. I was a little angry, but it's fine. And that's that," she said with a note of finality, cutting off any more invitations for questions.

"Oh," Harry said softly, feeling guilty. And yet the thought of Ron and Pansy once being friends bothered him.

Pansy screamed suddenly and Harry jumped, startled by the sound. On the ledge of the window sat a large owl clutching a package in its talons. Pansy apologized for screaming and Harry brushed it off as they both stood. Pansy unlatched the window and pushed it open, a gust of wind and snow stinging them both as the bird hopped into the window seat. Harry clenched his jaw as she pushed the window shut, trying not to focus too much on the material of her bra as she nipped from the cold.

"What is it?" Harry asked, half curious, half suspicious. Pansy remained silent as she walked over to her desk for her wand, conjuring a bowl of water for the exhausted owl. Only after she had seen that the owl was well taken care of did she pick up the brown package, frowning at the scrawling on the front. She sighed.

"Birthday gift from my parents," she said forlornly, ripping open the paper carelessly, as if she had done it a million times before. Her mood quickly changed though when she had uncovered the package. She cooed softly as she ran her hand over the smooth wooden cover of a music box.

"How did they know?" she wondered aloud, cheerfully opening it. The music tinkled its tune off the stone walls before she slammed the lid shut, eyes gleaming excitedly.

"From your parents?" Harry asked calmly, his visage serious. Pansy's mouth turned sideways thoughtfully, something he hadn't seen her do before.

"My dad. I saw it in a shop window two summers ago. I didn't have a reason to get it, though. How did he know?" She grinned, looking truly baffled. Harry lifted his eyebrow. He didn't think she was one to refrain from buying because she didn't need something.

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" Harry asked, looking nearly hurt. He tried to hide his disappointment from her, though, as he looked her straight in the eye. He supposed they weren't dating or anything. And what they were doing was still fairly new. Pansy looked nearly annoyed.

"I didn't think it was worth mentioning," she said calmly. Harry knew that couldn't be it. The annoyance on her face kept him from prying, though.

"Well, happy 18th then." He smiled before taking hold of her hand and pulling her towards her bed. Her frown turned into a smirk and she laughed wholeheartedly as he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

He was going to get her something. He had decided when they were still in bed. He didn't know what, though. He trudged through the thick, frozen snow towards Hogsmeade, feeling the bottom of his cloak soaking. Moody was trailing a few feet behind him, much to his annoyance, his magical eye swiveling every which way. He supposed it was part of protocol; they certainly weren't going to take exception to him.

He exhaled noisily as he continued down the icy slope, the village in sight.

Pansy smiled to herself as she walked around the abandoned grounds, the music box clutched in her hands. The sound of the light breeze carrying snowflakes through creaking tree branches calmed her, and for the first time in a long time she felt fine. It was really all fine. She didn't know where Harry had run off to. Frankly, she was enjoying the time to herself.

They had spent nearly winking moment in one another's company for the past week. She was a bit…wary. She wasn't sure what was going on between them. It was hard. They definitely weren't in a relationship. The thought made her scoff. But what about later? She frowned. She was afraid she was making a big mistake. Something would happen. She could feel it in her gut, churning as it made her sick. Maybe that's why she tried not to talk so much. It was bound to break. If she didn't open her mouth too often then maybe it would last longer. She knew her mouth was the source of a lot of fury between them in the past.

But she wasn't all sure that she liked what they had right now. All they ever did was screw. Merlin. Day and night. She didn't quite understand why she kept on with it. It wasn't bad, it was just—it wasn't what she had been expecting. She sighed nervously, trying to recapture the solace she had enjoyed moments before. She didn't know what she had been expecting. But Harry kept—he was getting too close. He shouldn't be asking for her life stories and such. Didn't he know they were a hair's breadth away from fizzling? She couldn't end it, though.

She walked towards the tree enclosure that she used to visit so often. She hadn't been back in so long. She hadn't needed to. She frowned as she absentmindedly started to walk in the foot prints left in the snow. How the hell was it already the end of November? Time had flown by. Clumsily, she ran head on into something. Scowling, she looked up, just managing to stifle a frightened scream at the cloaked figure before her.

Harry held the wrapped package under his arm as he walked swiftly to the Three Broomsticks with Moody, trying to escape the icy afternoon storm. He brushed off questions of what was in the package and it was soon forgotten when they entered the warm bustling of the tavern. Undoubtedly, Moody had just taken a glance at it with his magical eye and was satisfied.

The taps were flowing and people were singing, something Harry was caught off guard by, used to the gloominess of Hogwarts. Something else he wasn't expecting was Ron, across the room, motioning to him.

With some confusion, Harry pushed past the crowd and reached his friend, whom he hadn't spoken much in the past week. Ron either hadn't noticed or didn't care, for he was grinning as he drew closer, Moody in tow and looking as if the meeting had been planned.

"There you are!" Ron exclaimed, as if he hadn't seen Harry enter the pub at all. "I couldn't find you this morning. Where were you?" Ron asked, leading Harry up a stone staircase and through a short hallway. Harry tried to think of an explanation, his mouth opening then closing. Ron gave him a suspicious look.

"Never mind," Ron brushed off his question as he stood in front of an old wooden door. He motioned to Harry to go first. Reluctantly, and with much confusion, Harry, with his package still firmly under his arm, clutched the doorknob and pushed it open slowly. The door creaked, its hinges old and never oiled, and a slit of the room became visible—then more and more as he pushed it backed.

Harry choked as a wild-haired woman stood and smiled warmly, walking quickly over to him, arms open wide.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, her brown eyes warm with joy as she hugged him.

"Oh my god."

"Merlin," Pansy choked as her music box fell to the ground. Swan Lake tinkled from the ground, suddenly more eerie than sweet as a heavy wind picked up, blowing snow around in whirlwinds.

"Draco," she said weakly, embracing him with a racing pulse.