Harry Potter and its characters, story, and everything else is © J. K. Rowling.

Brilliant but Scary

▼ Chapter Thirty Three ▼

Every time Harry found himself spending time around Draco Malfoy by his own choice, he found himself running over the strange facts that led to that. The boy was his teammate, of course, but it wasn't as if they were friends. The fact they weren't actively hexing each other in the halls was a pragmatic and tentative thing, about the Quidditch team and their shared connection to Ginny Weasley and the simple fact they had to live near each other. They did not like each other, though, and they never would.

Harry might might have even called the other Slytherin boy a rival if he actually found Malfoy threatening or worth it, but Draco's academic performance was merely above average and Harry couldn't find himself to care. There was perhaps a bit of grim satisfaction to be found in the fact that he was just better than the boy, but that would have required investing more in caring about Draco than he deserved.

And yet it was that irony, the fact that Draco was a known, if bad, quantity that seemed to make it so easy to fall into things. There were barbs behind the banter, malice hidden behind grey eyes, and Harry knew that Draco would cry no tears if Harry was to drop dead, and rather thought the boy would gleefully dance upon his grave. Yet precisely because Harry knew all this there was a sense of strange ease that could be found. A known enemy could be anticipated.

Hmm, Professor Moody was rubbing off on him...

It hadn't been the first time Harry had thought about Draco like this, and probably wouldn't be the last. It seemed to come to him every time he found himself in a situation like this; sitting with Blaise and Draco in the common room, discussing things as if they were old chums and not ready to come to blows if not restrained by the complex net of obligations they had around them. They were leaning up against a table rather than in some of the plush chairs; the common room was busy, as it often was after classes were out for the day.

Hermione had gone off to work on something, and Harry didn't begrudge her that in the least. That said, he wouldn't really mind if she showed up. Like, immediately, so Draco would leave. Until that happened, though...

"I am rather looking forward to this dueling club," Draco said, bringing Harry back to the moment. It was a common sentiment; the dueling club excited many, particularly when it became known that Professor Moody was going to be one of the proctors. Even Draco had been, despite him and his gang not faring well under the former auror's watchful eye. Draco had been assigned more than a few detentions and even Professor Snape had not seen fit to step in to get him off the hook for once.

"Eager to get your arse handed to you, are you, Malfoy?" quipped Blaise, earning a grin from Harry and a scowl from Draco. The boy was quick his reply, though, full of smug imperiousness.

"Please, most of the students here couldn't hex their way out of a sack. I wouldn't be surprised if we see Ron Weasley try to cast with his wand held backwards."

"Well, Draco, not everyone decides to practice their jinxes in the halls and end up polishing trophies on weekends," Harry said, but Draco didn't hesitate a moment to snap back with a jab of his own.

"Some of us get involved in things instead of just holing up in a library or the common room, Potter."

"Maybe if a girl worth it would give you the time of day you'd have a different opinion," Blaise said, managing to say it before even Harry replied. The grin on Harry's face, though, was savage, and not the least because he'd been thinking just about the same thing. Draco was quick on the reply once again, though.

"That would require there to be girls worth it," he said, Harry had to admit that Malfoy was wittier than he deserved to be even as Harry bristled at the implication; that was Draco nowadays, always clever with his barbs. No more easy slurs; Harry hadn't heard him utter the term mudblood in public since their second year. Yet there was always that lurking disdain, there to make Harry mad and keep him grounded on exactly who Draco was.

"Well in that case, I take it you'll be skipping the Yule Ball?" said Blaise, tone just dripping with surprise and curiosity and not at all insincere, no sir, not one bit. To his credit, Draco didn't flinch as he realized he'd been caught.

"I'll make do, Zabini," he said with a shrug, and turned his head away. Blaise and Harry shared a look, both grinning, before looking out over the common room. There was, as always, the small knots of people of the various years. Harry spotted the Mafalda sitting with a number of others, including Astoria Greengrass. He'd seen those two together, joined by a younger boy named Malcolm Baddock. He was glad the girl had found some friends her age. The Prewett girl glanced his way and smiled, and he smiled back happily, even if inside he felt oddly troubled..

She was a lot like Hermione, but with a name that people recognized. An old name, even; the Prewett's had history, just like the Blacks, or the Malfoy, or his family too. Ginny's mother was a Prewett. If there was a fight, an argument that got heavy, then maybe folks might bring up that Mafalda's dad was a squib. Only then, though. The name was enough that a girl from a family like Greengrass, old Pureblood factionalist as they were, could be friends, close ones even, and not even merit a sidelong glance from most.

Even the Malfoy didn't say much; Harry suspected that if it wasn't for Ginny, Draco might have made some snide remarks about Mafalda being cousin to the Weasleys, but that was another avenue he'd bitten his tongue about. Harry wondered if he might pop eventually, given how much venom he was bottling up. That was an amusing thought.

Watching Mafalda and her friends, though, reminded Harry of that talk with Professor Moody, and about what he'd said about Voldemort. Even now, after years of watching her earn honors for her top marks, after being the best at so much, even to the point Harry had to stop her from burning herself out, she still would be second class to so many in her own house.

A girl with a squib father could be accepted, because she had the right name, but not a Muggleborn. Not to far too many, at least. That Voldemort had been more inclusive was a galling thought, but then again the monster hadn't done it out of any sort progressive sentiment, just naked ambition and greed.

Still…

"Oh, that reminds me."

Harry's eyes swept back to Draco, though the other boy was looking at Blaise instead.

"Have you got a date for the Yule Ball, then, Zabini?"

"Of course," Blaise said, stony faced. Draco stared at him for a moment before rolling his eyes, knowing he wasn't going to get anything else out of the boy. Though it made Harry grin to see it also made him rather curious; Blaise hadn't mentioned his date to him either. Later, in better company, perhaps he'd ask. Harry hadn't a clue who Blaise, in all his somewhat deserved vanity, might have chosen to ask.

Part of him had hoped the boy would have asked Ginny; a known quantity there would have been nice. It hadn't been until later that Harry had realized that Ginny asking if he was going to the ball with Hermione might have been out of hope that he'd be able to take the younger girl instead; she seemed to really want to go and so going with a friend made sense, he supposed. Of course Harry was going with Hermione, and Blaise apparently had made his plans too.

He looked up as movement caught the edge of his vision. Daphne Greengrass had split off from her own little group and was making her way over, eyes rather intently fixed on Harry. Something seemed to catch in his throat; things had not been so bad lately, perhaps because of how much he'd increasingly turned to glares rather than merely ignoring well wishers. The tournament was helping too; between Cedric and Krum, much of the attention had been thankfully drawn away. He'd actually even avoided any of the girls just asking him too, but something in Daphne's eyes…

Harry didn't know her particularly well, at least not on a personal level. It was somewhat to be expected; House Slytherin had a less unified sense of 'house spirit' compared to some of the other houses of Hogwarts. Ravenclaw had similar reservations, though that was more an individualist streak rather than the Slytherin habit of cliquishness.

Daphne had her clique, Harry had his, and the true interactions he'd had with the blond girl even over the four years he'd been at Hogwarts only barely reached double digits. Still, a certain degree of what he'd heard Hermione call 'aesthetic familiarity' was there; he was used to seeing her around, he recognized when things were different even if they never really talked. She'd clearly done herself up a bit, more than usual for her, and the glint in her

"Hello," she said as she approached, flashing a smile. She was looking at all three of the boys, but clearly favoring Harry as she did. He didn't quite glare, or frown, but he felt a tightness as she seemed to turn more to him. Something in her eyes faltered for a moment as she did, and she turned from Harry to Blaise.

"Zabini," she began, "Would you accompany me to the Yule Ball?"

"Though I am flattered, I already have made plans," Blaise replied smoothly, and to her credit Daphne controlled her sudden dejection. She nodded to them all and walked away. The three boys watched her go.

"Once you learn to control that, Harry, you're going to be a nightmare."

It took Harry a moment to process what Blaise said, and he glanced over at his friend. He had an amused look on his face, arms folded over his chest. Harry, though, didn't have any idea what he was talking about.

"What?"

"Your look," Blaise said, "You don't even realize how you get. It's very compelling."

Harry stared at his friend, still at a loss, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Blaise."

"And you're going to be a terror when you do."

"I really thought she was actually going to ask you out, Potter," Draco said, still watching the ways she'd gone. Harry wondered if he was upset about that, or that she'd actually asked Blaise. His face wasn't really readable in the moment. Harry just shrugged.

"She has to know better," he said simply, "What did she really expect?"

"Up until you gave her that look," Draco said, rolling his eyes, "That she might nab you in the moment. A pretty pure blooded witch with an old family. She turned down several other invites from what I heard."

"I wonder how much she regrets that now?" quipped Blaise, letting out a snort and shaking his head, "Well, she'll get someone no doubt. Now that her delusion is shattered."

"Where is your date, anyway, Potter?" Draco asked, glancing over as he did. Harry noted again that he could not even remember hearing the boy say Hermione's name. He pushed it aside; no reason to get mad at the boy for that. He wasn't worth it.

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging, "She's been getting out more lately, making friends and all."

Both Blaise and Draco were looking at him with curious expressions. Hermione was making friends? Harry looked between them and huffed at their disbelief.

"I'm going to go read," he declared, and stalked off to find a quiet spot.

As she sat in the library, back in her corner and making something of a show of going over a book she'd already read several times, Hermione was in thought on far different things: she wanted to make some friends.

Harry was not her friend. Or, well, he was, he was her best friend, her most wonderful and special friend. He was also her boyfriend, the boy she loved and who loved her too. He was just so much more than just a friend, though, that the term seemed odd. She loved spending time with him; he somehow managed not to just drain her the way other people did. She could sit with him for hours, reading or talking or just being, and it was great, fantastic, amazing, wonderful.

And he was enough, too. Really, he was all she needed, but she wanted more friends.

Or, well, she supposed she did. Harry had other friends, and while he had not once made her feel as though she wasn't enough for him, she felt that maybe she should have some as well. Blaise was not her friend, he was Harry's. Ginny obviously was out of the question, and indeed most of the Slytherin students, particularly the girls, wanted nothing to do with her. They left her alone, mostly, for various reasons, and resorted to a sort of passive indifference in their bigotry.

Mafalda didn't count, of course, either. More a protege than a friend. She had friends of her own anyway, friends her own age. She was also a Prewett, an old family, and so she had certain benefits that Hermione simply did not, particularly in Slytherin. Hermione did not hold it against her, nor feel particularly bitter, per se. Or rather, she did not allow her bitterness to make her stupid. She tried to analyze the situation properly, logically, and soundly.

If Hermione had been a pure blood or even a half blood she might have made friends, or something close to it at least, with girls like Daphne or Pansy or the few other girls in her own year. Would that have been a good thing? Would they have been worth being friends with? She had doubts about that.

Admittedly, she was biased; their attitude towards her had ranged from indifferent to openly hostile. Pansy had been part of Draco's early insults, part of his little gang. Daphne had watched with a sneer, one that grew as they'd gotten older and Harry had become, well, more Harry. He had become fanciable, she supposed, was what some might say. She wasn't entirely sure when she truly started to fancy him, it simply was there one moment, as if it always had. It was a pity so few found someone they were truly meant for, she thought.

That was why she'd been working so hard too; dropping hints to various other girls, mostly to then pass on to other girls that boys may like them, or were interesting, or did something worthy of note. She mentioned things to boys in passing, hoping for those to be passed on as well. The results had been mixed, but at least promising; at least half a dozen of her attempted matches were now going to the date, with one rare double success thanks to Neville's eminent usefulness as an a girl magnet.

Unfortunately, her little scheme had not led to her finding anyone she wanted to actually be friends with. She had considered a few, mostly those in her year or just below, but the fact she was mostly making sure they were taken care of, romantically speaking, soured much of a chance there. She had considered befriend some to dissuade them further, but that would hardly be a relationship built on trust. No, it wouldn't do, not one bit. She had considered finding that Luna girl, the one they'd met early in the year, though she was apparently a friend Ginny. Still, she seemed interesting, at least.

The sound of someone taking a seat across from her drew her attention up from her book and out of her head. A girl, dressed in Hufflepuff colors and seeming about her age, had settled into a chair. She was a bit heavier set, with blue eyes and her auburn hair tied into a long plait down her back. Hermione had never actually spoken with Susan Bones before; the Hufflepuff had never actually attracted much attention, at least from the Slytherin.

"Hello," the other girl said with cheer and a smile, an expression that fit well on her face. Academically, Hermione recognized that Susan was, rather like Hermione herself, more what one may call cute than pretty.

"Hello," she replied back, unsure of what to say. She fought the urge to fidget in her seat, setting her book down in front of her. Idly, she closed the cover of her personal grimoire; it wasn't on anything sensitive but better safe than sorry. Susan had rested her arms on the table and was scrutinizing Hermione, slightly leaned over. She looked curious, inquisitive really, and it was a few moments before either of them spoke.

"Viktor Krum is sitting out there pretending to read," Susan said, jerking her head back. It came off almost more as a question, and Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes as she nodded. Susan let out a somewhat unflattering snort at that.

"You've been playing matchmaker," the Hufflepuff said, and this was far less of a question, "I noticed it. That's what I do, I notice things. I saw things and heard things and it got me thinking. So looked a bit more and found you trying to set people up."

Hermione found herself fixed in place; had she been obvious about it? Had other people noticed? Why was she telling her?

"You're trying to get people attached so they'll stop going after your boy, right?"

There was a pause, a moment of consideration before Hermione replied. She looked Susan right in the eyes and shrugged.

"Yes."

"That's rather cute, really," Susan said with a giggle. She leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands in front of her, "Don't worry, I don't think most people have put it together, and I won't tell anyone. It's rather clever, really."

Hermione felt herself relax involuntarily; she hadn't even realized how tense she'd been. She wasn't sure if it was a good idea not to relax either, but the other girl's smile had a disarming quality that made it hard not to. She found herself smiling back despite apprehensions.

"It's for Harry," she said, really almost blurting it out, "Really, it is. He's got enough to worry about and doesn't like all the attention and it just seemed like a good way to deal with it so…"

"You're making people happy," Susan replied with a shrug, "I think it's nice, regardless of why you're doing it."

"What about you?" Hermione asked, curiosity creeping into her voice. Susan looked a bit surprised at that.

"Me?"

"Anyone you're looking at to go to the ball with? I could put a word in for you."

"Oh!" Susan said, eyes going a bit wide. She smiled and shook her head though, "Oh, no, that's alright."

"Ah, you've already got someone," Hermione said with a nod, but Susan just let out a small laugh and shook her head again.

"No, not yet, but it's alright."

Hermione frowned and furrowed her brow, "Really? I know you're friends with Seamus, right? Seamus Finnigan, in Gryffindor."

"Yes, I am, but he's going with Dean."

Oh. Hermione glanced out the window on a reflex, hiding her surprise. She hadn't expected that one at all. Then again, she didn't exactly know much about Seamus or Dean, other than that they were friends with Ginny's brother, and they'd seemed rather disappointed in Ron when he found himself on the side of Draco during their first year. She supposed it wasn't that surprising, though. Susan was chuckling softly, and Hermione looked to see her with a hand up to her mouth as she did.

"Don't worry about not knowing, most folks don't," she said as she lowered her hand, and there was genuine mirth behind her smile as she did. She stood slowly, "Well, I'll leave you to your reading. I'll see you around, Hermione."

The bushy-haired Slytherin watched the other girl go, and stared after her for quite a bit.

Did she just make a friend?