A/N: Please don't hate me because this took so long to update! I accidentally found a new wolfstar fic that is amazing (Shifting Lines on here, it's a fricken long haul, though) and i could NOT put it down until I was caught up because I am bad at prioritizing things omg. But here's another BAMF Pansy chapter, and mostly from Draco's POV to boot! Also, I promise things will resolve eventually between the Golden Trio and Slytherin Trio, but it can't happen right away. I'm very consciously aware that JKR wrote about blood purity as a shitty metaphor for racism, but I think because of that it's really important to address the learning curve of the characters as they confront their own ideas about blood purity and learn how to be inclusive. that won't happen overnight, and neither will characters accept overnight that the slytherin's have changed. confronting internal biases and growing from that is a huge, huge process, and i think it's important to properly recognize and portray that!

Draco Malfoy was not having a good day. He had woken late that morning, of course – so late that Blaise and Pansy had almost knocked down the door only to discover him and Harry, curled up in bed, completely naked. They woke to Pansy shreiking, dramatically as always. His friends needed to learn how to knock.

Not that he minded, really. He struggled with the isolation. It wasn't so bad now that the castle was full of people, although without Blaise, Pansy, and Potter it would have undoubtedly have been worse – but the summer had been horrible. Even with Potter visiting, the letters and floo calls exchanged with his friends, it had been horribly lonely.

At the same time, he knew it had been lenient – being confined to Hogwarts hadn't been true punishment, not really, even if his only sources of conversation had been limited to McGonagall, Flitwick, and Slughorn.

This morning they had entirely missed their early breakfast with Pansy and Blaise. Draco had been adamant about skipping breakfast altogether – Potter had been adamant about attending. Draco understood, of course, it was his friends first morning back at Hogwarts – but he didn't want to have to sit through the whispers and stares that followed him everywhere he went. Didn't want to have to look Weasley and Granger in the eyes for the first time in front of everyone.

Pansy had finally made the decision for them all, declaring they would walk Harry to the Great Hall so he could eat with his friends while they waited in the eighth year common room for the end of breakfast. And this was how he had ended up curled up on the sofa before the fire, feet in Blaise's lap and head in Pansy's, feeling as though he was going to be sick.

"Stop being melodramatic," Pansy chastised him. She was running her fingers through his hair, which he typically found quite relaxing, but today it made his insides squirm. "They're Gryffindors, they're the most forgiving people who could ever possibly exist." She spat out the word forgiving as if it was an inuslt. It was, in a way, given how they had all been raised.

"Look," Blaise sighed from his other side. "There are people who are beyond forgiving, mate. Your father, for one. People like Vince and Greg, probably," Draco felt a dull pang at their names, and Pansy's hand stilled for a moment before continuing its motions in his hair. It wasn't Blaise's fault for briging them up, really. Blaise hadn't been friends with them, nor Draco, for the most part. He had always considered wizarding politics beneath him, had never been shy about his hatred for the Dark Lord or Dumbledore. He was probably right about Crabbe and Goyle, too, but it hurt all the same.

"Sorry," Blaise said offhandedly, noting perhaps the tension on his friends faces, "but it's true. They hurt people. Really hurt people."

"So did I," Draco said mulishly.

Blaise sighed and flicked his foot. "Did you enjoy hurting people?"

"No," Draco ground out. Even after all this time - although it hadn't really been that long since the war, sometimes it felt like ages – the insinuation that he didn't enjoy hurting people – lesser people, those who deserved it – still made him feel weak.

"Did you go out of your way to hurt kids? All those first years?"

"No," Draco ground out again, supressing a shudder. He had been hurt in exchange for his refusal, been punished while he was at the Manor for Christmas, and then again for Easter.

"Did you enjoy killing muggles?" Draco winced, visibly. He didn't talk about that, ever. Not the raids he had been sent on with Death Eaters, not how he had been threatened and tortured by his wicked Aunt for not having the stomach to kill.

"Didn't kill anyone," he finally said.

"I think it's different, then," Blaise said. "You can't tell me Crabbe or Goyle never killed anyone."

"I didn't save anyone, either," Draco sighed.

"Neither could we," Pansy said, after a moment of silence. "Nor did any of those tosspots," she meant the Gryffindors who had been at the castle, he knew. "And they could have. So I don't see how that makes you or I any worse than them," she sniffed.

"Andromeda-" he began, intending to point out how Andromeda had succesfully rescued herself, ended up on the right side, hadn't hurt a single soul to do it.

"Andromeda did not grow up in the middle of a war," Pansy sniffed. "Honestly, Draco, not even she blames you."

"Maybe she should," he groused. "This is different, though." He paused for a moment, searching for the words to explain why it was different. "Andromeda didn't know me, before. It's easy for her. I called Granger a Mud- a You Know What. She got tortured in my house. I was horrid to Weasley."

"Well, do you believe all that drivel about blood supremacy now?" Blaise asked pointedly.

Draco sighed inwardly. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't think so."

"Well Potter seems to have forgiven you, why can't they? It's not as though they were never cruel to you, either," Blaise said, after a moment's silence.

"That's different-" Draco began, pausing in shock as Pansy burst out laughing.

"Don't tell me it's different because you've sucked his dick," she said between cackles. Draco buried his face in his hands. "I don't think that will work with Granger, I'm not sure she has one, but you could always try with Weasley."

Her cackles were cut off abruptly as they saw the group of Gryffindor's walking up from the entrance to the common room, which had somehow opened without them hearing. Potter looked like he was trying to hid a smile. Granger, on his left, was looking awkward, her lips turned into a frown. He was sure she was blushing, even if, like Potter, her skin was too dark for it to be visible. Weasley, however, was bright red, intently looking aroudn the common room as if it was fascinating.

Draco sat up as Potter approached the group of three, not bothering to hide his smile as he left his friends behind him. "I'm going to pretened I never heard that," he said with an amused glance at Pansy. She shrugged unabashedly, and Draco felt a strange surge of warmth for them both.

Harry reached toward Draco and hauled him up by his hand, then turned to do the same for Blaise. Pansy got to her feet on her own, giving a dignified sort of sniff as she did. Draco saw Harry roll his eyes at her good-naturedly.

He didn't know how Potter was acting so normal, Draco was quite confident he was a small step away from hyperventilating like a stupid twelve-year-old. But then Potter reached out and brushed Draco's side again, and he could feel the tremor in his hands and – was it wrong that it made Draco feel a little bit better, to know Harry was just as worried?

"I thought we could go to our dormitory?" Harry said quietly towards Zabini, who nodded. Draco saw Harry motion towards the two Gryffindors to follow them, Blaise and Pansy leading the way.

They took up their usual spaces, Blaise and Pansy immediately curling up on his bed while Draco and Harry perched on Harry's bed, before realizing there were two more to their number today. Granger and Weasley looked around the room looking distinctly awkward before Granger grabbed the chair from Zabini's desk. Following suit, Weasley took the chair from Harry's desk, turning it around and sitting down beside his girlfriend.

Harry nudged Draco to move over, and they shuffled to the foot of his bed so they could see the Gryffindors better, but also weren't so close to them. Pansy and Blaise followed suit. Then, the room descended into an awkward silence.

"So…how was everyone's summer?" Granger finally asked in such a false cheerful tone it made Draco cringe.

"Oh, it was dandy," he responded, unable to help himself. "Spending my time with only ghosts and thrice daily tea with McGonagall."

Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Did you really have that much tea with McGonagall?"

"And Flitwick, and Sprout, and Slughorn…" Draco sighed. "It was a lot of tea."

He felt Harry nudge him, and looked over to see him smiling slightly expectantly at Draco. "Oh yes," Draco continued, drawling now. "And tea with Potter, how could I forget? Sometimes even tea with Potter and McGonagall. It was scintilating."

Harry rolled his eyes, Draco saw it in his peripheral vision, but he refused to acknowledge it. Pansy was also rolling her eyes. All his friends were traitors.

"As much as I would love to hear about your summer," the Weasel – Weasley, Draco corrected himself – began, his voice full of hostility, "we should just establish that I don't like any of you and I don't trust any of you." Draco felt Weasley's eyes rest on him. "You're a Death Eater," he spat out. Draco looked up in shock, but Weasley had already turned to Pansy. "You tried to give Harry to Voldemort," and then to Blaise, "And you're just a self-righteous pure-blooded twat."

Draco felt Harry's hand grip him, perhaps reflexively, but he didn't look over. He opened his mouth to say – well, he wasn't sure what, probably something rude about Weasley's, but Pansy beat him to it.

"And you think you're so good, Weasley?" she huffed. "Looking down on purebloods that aren't like you, acting like school children are really the biggest enemy you've faced, like we're worse than Vold-V – than the Dark Lord himself."

"Well you were the ones who got to spend all your time shut up in the Slytherin common room while other kids were tortured. We've heard the stories, you know – we're not daft." Draco saw Weasley's blue eyes flash with anger and looked at him, almost incredulously, though he tried to hide it. He could almost feel the anger pouring from Pansy across from him.

"While other kids were tortured, Weasley?" she asked, almost deathly quiet. Weasley, at least, had the sense to look abashed. Granger looked panicked. "Has the thought that Slytherins were tortured, too, never entered that thick skull of yours? You think they cared about anyone's blood status and not just-" she cut off with a sob, Draco realized, horrified.

He half stood up to reach out to her, but she was already at the door. She gave one look back, not at him, but at Potter. "I can't, I'm sorry." And then she was gone.

They all sat in silence for a moment – Draco hovering above his bed. He was more anxious now, if that was even possible. Pansy, who was never uncertain, never wavered, never cried leaving in a flood of tears had done more to shake his confidence than anything had since the war itself. He sat down heavily on Harry's bed, and it seemed to shake everyone out of their surprised stupor.

"I'll go, I know where she went," Harry said with a sigh. Before anyone could protest, he had kissed Draco on the temple and disappeared through the door.

Draco couldn't help it – he felt himself blush furiously. Normally, he didn't mind Harry kissing him or taking his hand no matter who they were in front of. He welcomed the touch, especially in these days after the war – but also as he always had when Blaise put an arm around his shoulders or Pansy played with his hair. It was different, right now, though, with both Granger and Weasley now staring daggers through him.

"Had to go and upset her, didn't you, Weasley?" Blaise drawled, breaking the silence of the moment. "Is it all Gryffindors that are so tactless, or are Weasley's especially bad at it?"

Weasley flushed a brilliant shade of red. "Shut it Zabini," he ground out.

"I will not," he sniffed. "Everyone in this room, including Pansy and Potter, has spent all summer trying to heal and be better and then you two come in from your stupid vacation with your stupid prejudices and have to ruin it. You should have said from the beginning that you'd rather spend time with Smith and his cronies than here, would have saved us all the energy of bothering to even try."

"I- he- you-" Weasley blustered. Granger had her head in her hands. Draco strongly suspected she was crying, but couldn't bring himself to care.

"That's what I thought," Blaise said savagely.

"You can't expect us to believe," Granger said, lifting her head, "That you have anyting to heal from." Her mouth had twisted in a line, but she looked distraught. And honestly, for someone who was supposedly the brightest witch of their age, she was being gratingly obtuse right now.

"Ask you friends," Draco spoke up, then. "Ask your pathetic friends what happened in the castle after they saved their own skin and abandoned everyone else – even first years, to the Carrows. Ask them who stepped in to help when they were gone."

Both Weasley and Granger had gone quiet, Draco noted with some satisfaction. "That's right – they don't know. And they don't care, either."

"That's not true!" Hermione began, fiercely.

"Isn't it?" Blaise asked. "Tell me, when you waltzed into the castle with Potter in toe and went to find your friends, did it occur to you why it was only them locked away? Why they didn't save any kids or Slytherins or anyone outside of your stupid club with them?"

"No one else needed saving!" Weasley exclaimed. "It's not like the Carrows were hurting pure-bloods. The DA were the only ones standing up to them, no one would have gotten hurt after they left." To Draco's satisfaction, he sounded unsure as he finished talking.

"You're actually daft," Blaise said. Draco could hear the false amazement in his voice, the mocking tone. His friend's face was hardened, looked almost impassive but Draco knew that for Blaise, that meant he was angry.

"The Carrows didn't care," Draco said quietly. "They didn't care about blood status, they were crazy. Do you know who stood up to them, when your lot left? Pansy did." Weasley had gone pale, and Granger had slouched back in her chair. "Hate me all you want," Draco continued, ignoring Blaise's sharp look in his direction. "I'm the Death Eater, and I will own that."

He not-so-surrpetitiously rolled up his sleeves, showing his faded Mark. "I'm okay with – learning to be okay with that as a part of me. So hate me, I don't care, Weasley. But Pansy is ten times the person either of you will ever be. Don't touch her, don't even fucking look at her or I swear to Merlin I will hurt you."

"Draco…" Blaise breathed, but he ignored the other boy.

"Get the fuck out of our room," he continued, as if Blaise hadn't spoken.

"It's not even yours-" Weasley, the idiot, began to argue. But Blaise had caught on.

"Get out," Blaise parroted, his tone equally as deadly.

The two Gryffindors scrambled towards the door. In other circumstances, Draco would have laughed at the display, so cowardly for people who were considered so brave, but he just sagged down in relief as they left. Blaise moved, coming to sit beside him on Harry's bed.

"Potter is going to kill you," he sighed, but allowed Draco to lean against him.

Harry pocketed the Maruader's Map as he pet the dog painting that led to Draco's room. He hadn't necesssarily been lying when he said he knew where Pansy had gone – it just wasn't exactly the truth, either.

He hadn't told the Slytherins about the map yet, had wanted to wait until Ron and Hermione were here and had met them. He mostly was hoping that showing them after Ron and Hermione had gotten used to them would make them feel less betrayed that someone else knew the secret of the Map and his Cloak. Now, though, he wasn't so sure they'd all ever get used to each other.

"Oh, it's you," Pansy sighed when he stepped in.

"Sorry to disappoint," he said, wrily, sitting down on the bed next to her. She wasn't crying, now, but obviously had been. She was sitting on the bed against the headboard instead, holding a pillow to her chest.

"No," she laughed. "It's just-" She paused for a moment, looked him up and down, setting Harry's nerves on edge. "You didn't leave them together, did you?" she shrieked.

"Um-"

"Potter, are you absolutely mental? They'll hurt him, he can't even use a wand!" she had jumped up and had a hand on the door already, looking particularly murderous.

Harry couldn't help it – he grinned at her, then pulled their wands out of his pocket. "They can't use their wands, either," he added cheekily.

"You – how did you convince them to do that?" she asked in shock.

"I may have told them I'd hold onto your wand, and Zabini's, too." He placed his two friends' wands down on Draco's desk, trying not to laugh at the shocked look on Pansy's face.

"Very Slytherin of you, Potter," she said, coming back around to sit on the bed again. "Very sneaky."

"I have my moments," Harry responded in an imitation of Blaise's arrogant tones. "They'll probably just yell a lot," he said, more normally this time.

She nodded at him, but he frowned. He felt guilty – more than guilty. He should have known Ron and Hermione wouldn't have taken well to being forced into a conversation with Pansy, Blaise and Draco in their first moments back. Harry had been here all summer to watch Draco learn and change, had been here all summer to learn and chagne himself. His best friends had not.

"I'm sorry, it was a stupid idea," he said finally.

Pansy snorted. "It was. But they're your friends."

"So are you," Harry responded, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. In the Days Before, he would never have imagined this conversation would ever happen. But right now, if he were being honest with himself, he felt closer to Pansy than he did Ron and Hermione. "Are you okay?"

She took a deep breath, leaned against him carefully. He put an arm around her, equally as carefully. It wasn't that he was touch-averse, necessarily, but Ron and Hermione had never needed so much affection from him. He found it strange.

"Sometimes I am," she said finally. "But no, not right now. Sometimes I think I never will be, you know?"

"I know." He sighed, trying to let some of the tension out of him. It didn't work. "I'm going to find McGonagall, see if I can floo Andy to see if she'll come through today. Want to come with me?"

"Sure," she said. They both stood up, Pansy with a small smile on her lips. "But lets find the other two, first, make sure no one's resorted to fist-fighting instead of wands."

Harry felt himself smile back. "I wouldn't put it past them."