So, I'm back with a chapter in Draco's PoV.

Also: Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak!

Enjoy reading!

Chapter 6

The fork hit his plate with a clang as Draco stabbed it trough the syrup-sprinkled pancakes. Ignoring the strange looks directed at him, he pulled it out and brought it down again. And again.

"Is there a reason, you're murdering your breakfast?" Pansy quirked an eyebrow at him.

He paused, fork raised. "None whatsoever", he hissed.

Fucking Potter, he thought. Shrinkheaded, buggering prig. Draco didn't really know, what he had been expecting after their encounter last night. Potter glaring at him angrily? Worried glances maybe, because his bravado had just been show after all? Draco had been quite curious as to what his reaction would be. He hadn't considered this, though.

Potter certainly had nerve to ignore him, still, Draco thought. He tightened his grip around the fork and jabbed at his food once more.

Pansy shook her head at him. "Suit yourself.", she said.

Draco didn't really understand why it made him so bloody angry. Maybe he was just missing their quarrels to let of steam. Or maybe it was the thought that even Potter had now decided it was unseemly to associate with Death Eaters. Potter, who didn't think twice about being friends with a dragon-breeding somewhat-giant and a werewolf. Talking to Death Eaters, when there was nothing to gain from it any more, was where he drew the line. Darned hypocrite.

Draco let the fork stick in his massacred pancakes when another, disconcerting thought came to him.

He looked up and found Potter sitting in his usual spot at the Gryffindor table. Draco had noticed with some satisfaction, that he didn't look too good today. He had bags under his eyes and seemed a little green, frowning at the food, without touching anything. He wasn't glancing in Draco's general direction even once.

Maybe Potter really had no interest in him any longer.

The thought bothered him more than it should and Draco found himself hoping, that he somehow was responsible for Potter's misery this morning.

He figured, Potter had to be worried about him spilling his secret, despite his daring response last night. Although it was true that the Malfoy's credibility wasn't exactly top of the list any more, any rumour of Harry Potter actually being gay would stir waves among the Wizarding Community, that made a Kelpie's seem like ripples in a pond in comparison. Even Potter couldn't be so dense to not suspect that, nor so confident to not give a damn.

He had to fear being exposed any moment. Of course, Draco didn't plan on giving his secret away any time soon. He'd never admit it, but he quite liked being a part of the small group of people that knew, including some of Potter's best friends. And keeping Potter on his toes would be way too much fun to let it blow up just yet.

He watched with narrowed eyes as Potter stood up, wobbled and hit his knee on the table. He grimaced and shot angry glances at his friends, who'd giggled.

"I'll meet you in class", Draco said, quickly grabbing his bag.

"Hey, where are you going?"

Already hurrying after Potter and Weasley, Draco couldn't see Pansy's face, but suspected she was frowning, given that he didn't usually leave on his own. Right now, he didn't care.

He caught up, just as they rounded the first corner of the hallway.

"Potter", he sneered and, at once, Potter's back went rigid. Draco watched him slowly turn around, as if it was physically painful and broke into a grin.

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

Reluctantly he took his eyes off Potter. "I wasn't talking to you, Weasley."

Weasley had his arms crossed. He'd put himself halfway between Draco and Potter and Draco could feel his smirk turn upside-down. He wondered if it was mandatory to have helper syndrome for being put into Gryffindor in the first place or if it was something they caught afterwards.

"Although, considering", he said. "Maybe there is something we could talk about." He cocked his head, training his eyes on Potter again. He really did look pale this morning, Draco noted, not liking the hazy tinge to his eyes.

"Why would I – ", Weasley started, before his friend spoke up.

"Ron." Potter's voice sounded a little hoarse. "Why don't you go ahead."

Draco thought the expression on Weasley's face was very funny.

"It's fine, Ron. This won't take long." Weasley, clearly, still wasn't convinced. He looked torn, his expression matching the one of Blaise wrinkling his brows at the very obviously failed Cough Potion he'd been called out to sample.

"You're sure, mate?", he asked.

Potter nodded. "Save me a seat far from Seamus."

"Sure thing", Weasley mumbled and looked at Draco. "If Harry doesn't show up, you'll wish I only did the thing that happened to McMillan to you", he threatened before, finally, stalking off.

"Did you hire Weasley as your bodyguard, Potter?", Draco said as the red-head had gone. Unlike Blaise, he had, surprisingly, chosen wisely. "You shouldn't give him more than one Knut an hour, you know. Weasley wouldn't possibly know how to spend it all."

Potter's eyes flashed, regaining a little of his usual brightness. "What's your game, Malfoy?"

Draco studied him, stepping a little closer. If he was honest, he didn't know, what he hoped to gain from this. But being ignored by Potter was no longer an option. There was an arm's length between them, when he opened his mouth to answer. Breathing in, he caught a whiff of the faint smell clinging to the other one and stopped dead.

"Potter", he said, his voice thick with wonder. "Have you been drinking?" He took in his dishevelled appearance, letting his eyes wander from the unevenly tied shoelaces, over the robes he hadn't bothered to close, the shirt beneath them, which he suspected was inside-out, and finally the mob of tousled black hair. There, at least, was no change. Adding his behaviour this morning, Draco didn't need Potter to confirm his assumption. His faint blushing still did. He was staring at the floor now, letting his hair shadow his face, but the warmth in his cheeks was obvious.

"Drowning your worries in Firewhiskey? That's pathetic, Potter", Draco taunted.

At that, his head whipped up. "Shut up, Malfoy. It's none of your business."

"Isn't it? Weren't you wrecking that small brain of yours, if I'd get your arse busted?"

"You wish", Potter said. "It had nothing to do with you."

Draco clicked his tongue, advancing slowly. It was a carefully calculated move that made him look a little like a predator stalking it's prey. Draco was quite proud of it. "Didn't any one tell you?", he drawled, suddenly leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Lying's naughty."

Potter stumbled back as if bitten by a Doxy, almost tripping. Draco very much wanted to laugh at that, but Potter staring at him with round eyes, face still flushed, made his thoughts turn strange corners of his mind. Thankfully, reality hit fast and he remembered once again that, oh, right, Potter hated his guts.

"Relax, Potter", he said bitterly. "For now, I won't tell Weasley about your little secret."

Looking back on his short time as an active Death Eater, there wasn't much Draco had learned and even less he considered useful. Mainly, he just wanted to forget everything, which, so far, had been a futile effort. One thing, he did take with him, though, was how to successfully blackmail someone. You had to hit where it hurt. Really hurt. For Draco that had been his family, as the Dark Lord had so meticulously concluded. For Potter it wasn't his reputation. Mentioning the papers last night had been his mistake, he'd realised. Potter didn't much worry about nonsense published by The Daily Prophet any more, even if the rumour happened to hit home, for once. What did matter to him was the opinion of his friends.

"What do you want, Malfoy?", Potter asked then, regarding him warily and Draco smiled.

"You see, two weeks ago some fool Polyjuiced into Pansy and sneaked into Slytherin. Unfortunately the bastard was lucky enough to escape."

Potter's face had resumed the pale, unhealthy colour of being hung-over. He didn't say anything, so Draco kept talking.

"So, naturally, I made some enquires. I am fairly certain now who it was."

Potter had turned a little green and Draco remembered that he'd forgotten to use the spell to repel staining, yet again. If Potter dared to vomit over him, he didn't care what Weasley threatened him with. Thinking about where to best drown the Wizarding World's Hero in Firewhiskey, he almost missed Potter's quiet "Who?"

Draco cocked his head, watching him closely. He suspected he'd enjoy this quite a bit. "Granger", he said, grinning evilly.

Potter didn't disappoint. "Granger ...", he gaped. "You think it was Hermione?"

"I take it, she didn't tell you", Draco mused. A small part of him was disappointed, since he'd hoped to get Potter to affirm his guess right away. Maybe the famous Golden Trio wasn't as close as everyone assumed, after all.

"Why would you think Hermione –"

"Glad you ask, Potter. That's exactly what I want you to find out."

Potter just blinked at him.

"Well, aren't you friends? It should be easy for you to get her to spill it."

When he still just stared at him, like he'd just spoken Troll, Draco sighed. "Do I have to spell it out for you, Potter? You either get Granger to confess or Weasley and I will have a talk. And don't even think about telling anyone about this conversation. Especially Granger."

When Potter finally nodded, Draco felt as if his fingers had just curled around the winged, golden orb, winning the game for his team.

His good mood turned out to be short-lived.

Right after he'd left Potter, Pansy caught up to him, jumping on the staircase behind him, as it began to change directions. For a moment, she didn't say anything, choosing to look at him thoughtfully. And this, Draco knew, wasn't a good sign with any blabbermouth.

"Draco", she said, throwing him another weird glance out of the corner of her eye. "Is there something you want to tell me?

Quirking an eyebrow at her, he made his confusion known. "Whatever are you talking about?"

They switched the stairs, exiting on the 4th floor. As soon as they set foot in the hallway, she pulled him into an alcove between two Suits of Armour.

"Draco," she began again, her voice almost a whisper. "Do you ...", she was choking on the words. "Do you have a crush on Potter?"

Ironically, Draco thought, that's what Potter must have felt like, when he'd told him, he believed Granger had sneaked into Slytherin. And just as he had been serious, Pansy too, now looked at him without any trace of humour.

"Did someone poison your Pumpkin Juice?", he finally managed, somewhat high-pitched.

Pansy just furrowed her eyebrows more. "You can tell me, you know. I'll try to get along with ...", she swallowed, "… Potter, if he's the one you want."

The way, Pansy was struggling to assure him, she wasn't going to hex him or laugh uncontrollably at his choice was almost touching. It didn't help with the incredulity of the situation.

"Was it the eggs, then? Did McMillan mix something in?"

Pansy aimed for his hair again and, this time, he wasn't fast enough. Her hand smacked his head, ruffling the blond strands.

"Ow!", Draco cried.

"Be serious, Draco!", she snapped.

"Why, by Salazar's bloody pants, would I have a crush on Potter?", Draco snapped back, irritated. Having a bad hair day, it had taken him a full 15 minutes to finish his look. Now it was ruined for nought, because Pansy had decided to take a trip to loony town.

"Don't think, I didn't notice you staring at him all morning. And that's after you met up with him in the middle of the night."

"That wasn't –".

"And just now, I saw you flirting with him, Draco."

"I was, most certainly, not flirting with Potter!" How did Pansy come up with this nonsense? The thought of him being involved with Potter was even more ridiculous than Snape secretly having been a soppy romantic.

Pansy still looked at him sceptically and, resigning at making her see reason, he shook his head in exasperation. "Let's talk later", he said. "We're already late."

With the exception of Granger, Draco usually was the only one in class to not wear an expression of confusion, while listening to Professor Vector. It wasn't that he found Arithmancy easy, it definitely wasn't, but it was mostly logical. And he could work with logic. It made sense. Unlike Pansy's absurd theories about him having a thing for Potter. Because he hadn't. And, he was sure, he hadn't done something idiotic like flirting with the git.

Thinking back, his forehead wrinkled until he was sprouting a puzzled expression, almost identical to the ones of his classmates, working on their numeric charts.

He hadn't, had he?