Better Be Slytherin
LII
The Battle of Hogwarts

"The time has come for Slytherin house to decide upon its loyalties" – Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

People were hurrying past in all directions around him. He felt slightly suffocated; he wished for some tranquillity to think and come up with a plan. He knew he should be getting to the Dark Lord. It should be his top priority – but after seeing Potter in the castle, he'd realised something.

If he were to bring Potter to the Dark Lord he, along with his parents, would be rewarded above everything else. There could be no greater glory, and it made his insides tingle with something other than the fear he'd felt since his Mark woke him up. After all, he'd always seeked glory above all else. But on the other hand, if this was ever to end, perhaps he should let Potter have a shot at whatever it was he was doing? If the Dark Lord was to ever be defeated, it would be by Potter – he just knew it.

"Malfoy, what are we going to do?" asked Goyle in a yell, just behind him. They were making their way through the crowd. "Don't you reckon we should wait for Vince—?"

"He's staying with the Slytherins!" he said because he couldn't bring himself to say her name. "Making sure they all get out of here safely!"

"But if we're going to the Dark Lord, don't you think we should wait for him?"

"Shh!" snarled Draco, for there were so many people around. But somehow he felt, in current circumstances, all acts had been dropped. This was it. And he was on the Dark Lord's side. Everybody knew that already, even though he wasn't sure himself. Don't think about that...

"... find Potter?" Goyle was talking and Draco had missed what he was saying.

"Potter!" he repeated, feeling like he woke up suddenly. "The bastard's got my wand..." he glanced down at his mother's wand in his hand, moving it up and down.

"If we was to be the ones to bring 'im to the Dark Lord..." Goyle was saying now. There was a huge bang in the distance. A few younger students screamed. Goyle looked scared.

"Yes?"

"Well, he'd be really glad, wouldn' he?" Goyle went on. "He wants Potter, doesn't he?"

"It would certainly be beneficial for us to bring Potter to him, yes..."

He was knocked aside once more by students rushing past. Angry, he grabbed Goyle by the scruff of his neck and dragged him along, out of the way. Stepping aside, they looked out a small window. Something that looked like fireworks, but colourless and not beautiful were erupting over the courtyard. He suddenly felt nervous – they were coming closer – and he didn't know what to do.

"It begins now," he muttered, and Goyle quickly moved to see what he was seeing. And he squirmed too, looking just as frightened as Draco felt and suddenly he felt a sense of comfort in having Goyle there. At least he wasn't alone in this. He could always count on Goyle to be there. Loyal albeit brainless.

They jostled through the crowd again; Draco wanted to move away from all the ruckus and all the people. He needed space to think.

"Vince!" Goyle was waving his large arms over the heads of younger students, Draco's head snapped up and his heart sank as he saw Crabbe wading towards them, a determined look on his face.

Draco failed to stifle a groan as he turned away again and drew a nervous hand through his hair.

"So what are we doing?" grunted Crabbe as he caught up with them.

"Did everything go ok with the Slytherins?" Goyle asked him. Draco looked up and held his breath.

"Yes, everyone's gone," said Crabbe, waving a fat hand. Draco let out a tensed breath – that meant Pansy was gone too. Which was good, anyway, because he was now free to focus on what needed to be done.

"We're going after Potter," Goyle said enthusiastically.

"Potter?! What?" The anger that filled Crabbe's face was enough to make Draco feel nervous. "You've been summoned to go to Him and you're going to go off to see Potter?!"

Draco finally turned to him, impatient, clenching his jaw, and said, "I'm not going to see Potter, I'm going to get Potter."

"What are you bothering with that git for?" Crabbe raised his voice. "The Dark Lord summoned you, Draco! Don't you think you're gettin' a bit old for pickin' fights with bloody Potter? You ain't changed much since first year have you, fist fightin' Potter every other week..."

Draco sighed through gritted teeth, "This isn't some petty little thing between me and Potter, you cretin! This is bigger than that – this is for the Dark Lord!"

"Is it really?" said Crabbe scathingly, not bothering to keep his voice down. "Because if you were doin' your best for the Dark Lord, wouldn't ya be with him right now like he wanted? He summoned you, Draco!"

"I'm trying to bring him Potter, aren't I?!" said Draco, trying to sound authoritative. "And how do you suggest I get out of the castle to join him? There are people everywhere if you're too slow to notice!"

"So this isn't just about your ruddy wand, is it?!" Crabbe was just as heated. Goyle looked quite unsure inbwetween them.

"No!" Draco lied. Crabbe was breathing heavy, staring down at him. Draco hastily wondered whether Goyle would help him should Crabbe try and punch him.

Suddenly, Crabbe's demeanour changed. He shook his head and gave a bitter laugh. "Slippery, aren't ya," said Crabbe. "Don't think I don't know what you're doin'..."

Draco just stared at him, suddenly aware of the need to swallow.

"Just like your dad... you change sides with the wind, don't ya... whatever suits the current political climate..."

"It's called self-preservation, Vince, perhaps you should try it!" snapped Draco.

"If that's what you're doing you really are a traitor!" There was a slightly mad gleam in his eyes now. "Just like I've said for ages! Haven't I, Greg? Haven't I said Malfoy's becoming a traitor!" he almost spat the word at Draco.

"You have no right to speak to me like this, nor question how I handle the orders my master gives me..."

"You're openly opposing them! He specifically summoned you to him! And I can't see you leavin'!"

"I'm doing what I judge best!" Draco shouted back at him. His heart was thundering out of adrenaline and fear. Crabbe was twice his size and not afraid of using the Unforgivables.

"You TRAITOR!" Crabbe was bellowing now, making Draco jump.

"Vince—!" Goyle tried to step in between them but Crabbe nudged him away.

And that's when Draco saw it in Crabbe's eyes – that he would never respect Draco again.

"YOU FILTHY BLOOD-TRAITOR!" Crabbe roared at him and aimed a punch before Draco could realise what was going on and protect himself, it felt like stone hit his face and he must've let out a scream as his head was pushed back so he stumbled several feet. But surprisingly Goyle seemed to have jumped in between them as Draco shielded his face with his forearms, instantly hit by the pain.

"Don't do this, Vince!"

"You're backin' him up? HIM?! After all he's done to us!"

"Shut up, Crabbe," snarled Draco, clutching his cheek. When the punch had hit him, he had bit his cheek so now he spit blood onto the corridor floor. He didn't have time to worry about the ache in his jaw.

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, innit, Malfoy?!" Crabbe looked properly mental now, his
eyes almost plopping out of his head, a large vein on his forehead thumping forcefully.

"I'm the furthest thing from a traitor," lied Draco. "You do whatever you please. Go to the Dark Lord if you want, I'm done with you. I'm going to go find Potter."

"No, I'm gonna find Potter!" bellowed Crabbe. "I'm gonna be rewarded! Not you!"

"Shove off, Crabbe," said Draco, rolling his eyes and spitting blood on the floor once more.

"You shove off! Get this traitor away from me, Goyle, before I curse him!"

Despite Goyle's protests, Draco turned on his heel and began walking determinedly towards the main staircase, and he heard the shuffling of the other two behind him, and he didn't know whether that meant he'd won or that the competition had just begun.


He knew he'd been reluctant to hand Potter over back at the manor. Because he wanted out. He'd made an active choice to not identify Potter. But now he was assiduously seeking him out. Because he was lost in between wanting to restore his family's honour by giving Potter to Voldemort and letting Potter win and thus losing every bit of high standing his family name brought him.

Would he really be able to kidnap Potter and bring him to the Dark Lord? As he walked through the corridors in search of his prey, he doubted himself. Not only his physical ability (Potter was a more talented dueller than he was) but his mind-set too. Once again, the night on top of the Astronomy Tower reminded him that killing was much more difficult in practice than in theory.

Would he wimp out once more?

He'd always realised he wouldn't be able to survive this war without getting blood on his hands; he'd known that all along. In fact he had already tortured and killed. But was he ready to get Potter's blood on his hands?

"Wait a minute..." said Draco, mostly to himself, as realisation dawned on him. "Didn't those Order lot say they would bring people in via the Room of Requirements? Perhaps..." he was thinking out loud. "Perhaps Potter will go back there... and that's where we'll catch him."

His stomach sank at the thought of everyone who was going to be with Potter. He would probably be protected by the whole Order.

"Well, let's go then!" Crabbe exclaimed and suddenly they were on their way back. Draco bringing up the rear now, unsure.

"Let's just stay here and keep watch!" said Draco when they arrived to the seventh floor corridor and the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. "And hide..." he mumbled.

Crabbe put Disillusionment Charms on the three of them and they didn't have to wait long. He was still rugged and long haired; he looked like he hadn't washed in weeks. And Draco couldn't believe their luck – Potter was alone.

"Shhh!" Draco hissed vigourously, "There he is!"

They watched him stride past the entrance thrice and then enter the room and they quickly, and as soundlessly as possible snuck in behind him. They followed him through the labyrinth of left-behind junk until he stopped with his back to them. Had he heard them? Draco wanted to take no chances.

In half a second, Draco finished the Disillousion Charms and said, "Hold it, Potter."

Crabbe and Goyle raised their wands at once. Potter turned around, shock etched on his face.

"That's my wand you're holding, Potter."

"So how come you three aren't with Voldemort?" asked Potter. Draco flinched.

"We're gonna be rewarded," said Crabbe. "We 'ung back, Potter. We decided not to go. Decided to bring you to 'im."

"Good plan," said Potter in mock admiration, looking annoyed to say the least.

Suddenly another voice was shouting out Potter's name, looking for him. With a whiplike movement, Crabbe pointed his wand at the fifty foot mountain of old furniture, of broken trunks, of old books and robes and unidentifiable junk, and shouted, "Descendo!" making everything start to fall.

"No!" shouted Draco, trying to think clearly. "If you wreck the room you might bury this

diadem thing!"

"What's that matter?" said Crabbe, tugging himself free out of Draco's grip. "It's Potter the Dark Lord wants, who cares about a die-dum?"

"Potter came in here to get it, so that must mean—"

"'Must mean'?" Crabbe turned on Draco now, yet again. "Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an' your dad are finished."

Suddenly Potter lunged for something, and Crabbe shouted out, "Crucio!" which missed but hit a numerous of other objects which flew and smashed.

"STOP!" shouted Draco, feeling his panic start to rise now, "The Dark Lord wants him alive—"

"So? I'm not killing him, am I? But if I can, I will, the Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, what's the diff—?"

Then a jet of scarlet light just barely missed Crabbe, and all of them turned around.

"It's that Mudblood! Avada Kedavra!" screamed Crabbe and lunged towards Granger, and knocking Draco's wand out of his hand.

"Crabbe!" Draco shouted blamingly, "My wand! Goyle, find my wand!" The two of them began searching for Draco's wand while Crabbe was still shooting spells all around him.

"Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM!" Draco yelled as he duel broke out fully around him now that both Granger and Weasley had joined them.

"Expelliarmus!" Potter shouted and Goyle's wand flew out of his hand.

Draco swore loudly and threw himself to the floor to search for his mother's wand in the dust under a table.

Crabbe wheeled around and screamed, "Avada Kedavra!" again, while Draco begged he didn't hit. He remembered when Potter had put Draco's father in prison and Draco'd shouted about how he was going to make Potter wish he'd never been born. He'd wanted to kill Potter with his own hands... How far from that he was now.

Draco was searching ferociously for his wand and the others didn't seem to mind him as the duel led them away down the aisle. Then, roars were heard as they ran back towards them, enormous flames pursuing them. Shock and panic rose in Draco and he stared at the huge fire for a moment before he heard Potter shout "RUN!"

Draco grabbed Goyle and bolted the other way, and when he looked back the fire was mutating, forming a gigantic pack of fiery beasts: flaming serpents, chimaeras, and dragons. He kept running and running until his chest ached, and he could no longer see the Gryffindors.

"HELP!" he shouted but his weakened, panting voice was drowned by the roaring flames.

"Draco—" Goyle was shouting next to him, and the kept running, jumping over desks and sliding around wardrobes, stumbling over old umbrellas and spellbooks. "Where's Vince?!"

"I don't know!"

There was black smoke everywhere and terror in his heart, because he knew that now surely they would die...

"Climb!" Draco panted, and as he inhaled he tasted the black smoke that was about to ruin his lungs.

"Where's Vince!" Goyle was bellowing, and Draco tried to pull him along, on top of a pile of chairs. From there they could climb onto a wardrobe – Goyle's sweaty, slippery hand nearly falling out of his own but they both made it onto the wardrobe. Draco stood up balancing on top of it, coughing and squinting through the smoke to try and see.

He saw Crabbe nowhere, but there was a tower of desks next to them, perhaps if they jumped they could make it... From up here he thought he could have an overview of the room but all he saw was fire and smoke. No sign of neither Crabbe nor Potter, Weasley and Granger. They must've made their safe way out... or else they were dead, just like Draco and Greg was about to be.

"Come on!" he shouted at Goyle, but when he turned to look at his friend, he was coughing badly. "COME ON!" he reached out through the smoke to grab Goyle's arms, and pulled him up. "Just climb!"

Goyle was screaming now but reluctantly pulled himself up, and they both managed to get to the top of the swaying stacked desks. It was the highest point they could get to, but already as they collapsed on top of it, Draco realised they were surrounded by flames and there was nothing else they could climb up on.

This was, surely, the end.

What a waste... he remembered thinking, what a wasteful way to die.

And he turned to look at his friend through the thick blackness, and saw that Goyle had already passed out, or had he died too...? And now Draco would die, coughing, dying of suffocation, he'd always felt suffocated, by his parents, by the Dark Lord, sometimes by Pansy, but he never thought he'd actually suffocate.

He tried to breathe but all he inhaled was black smoke and now surely the flames were closing in on him too.

"Greg," he croaked out with his last breath. He decided to hold his breath now; maybe he could hold it for another minute or so and thus postpone death. And then something caught his eye over the black smoke, just above him. It was a broomstick. Flying towards him, like some sort of angel of death, was a sooty Harry Potter. Draco'd never been happier to see him.

He held out his hand, just like he'd done back on the train in first year, but this time Potter took it. Thank Merlin.

He was dragged onto a broomstick and vaguely realised that Goyle was dragged onto the other one. Draco clung onto Potter's body, knowing his life depended on it.

"IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I'LL KILL YOU, HARRY!" someone roared, but Draco shut his eyes. Get me out of here, please.

"The door, get to the door, the door!"

They zoomed over the huge room, mostly in ruins, but some parts were still being eaten by the flames... objects flew all around them. Potter was flying them the wrong way! Was he trying to get Draco killed?

"What are you doing, what are you doing, the door's that way!" Draco screamed at him and clawed onto his stomach.

Finally Potter seemed to get his bearings and they zoomed away from the flames towards the barely visible door and then...

Draco screamed as they exploded out of the Room of Requirement and collided with the wall opposite. He fell to his stomach, gasping, coughing, retching, but now being able to breathe fresher air. The others panted around him, and now it hit him. Crabbe.

He jerked up to look around. Potter, Weasley and Granger were all sitting around him, out of breath and their robes severly burned. Goyle was lying unconscious next to him.

"C-Crabbe," Draco croaked out as soon as he could speak. "C–Crabbe ..."

"He's dead," said Weasley harshly.

There was silence, apart from panting and coughing. Then a number of huge bangs shook the castle. The battle was still going on all around him. Potter staggered to his feet, and Draco still lay there, panting and choking, wondering whether he should thank him.

Luckily, the trio started running down the corridor towards the battle sounds. Draco didn't try to stop them. He was sure Goyle would understand.

Well, not sure. Perhaps he just wouldn't tell him.

He didn't know how long he lay there spluttering, and he didn't need to know.

Crabbe was dead.


"Well?" Theodore asked them sharply, his hawk eyes lingering over each of them as if he were a professor. The old wooden floor creaked beneath his feet. They were on the top floor of the dodgy and deserted Wizarding pub The Hog's Head. After arriving downstairs and ushering everyone out by Floo Powder or Apparition, the Slytherins had found themselves undisposed to go home.

"Well what?" sighed Daphne Greengrass who seemed annoyed to be out of bed at all.

"Well are you coming or what?!" Theodore snarled.

Zabini narrowed his eyes. Pansy didn't think she'd ever seen them disagree before.

"I'm not going anywhere near that old creep," said Zabini coldly.

Theodore's eyes widened. "Be careful Zabini,"

"Or what? You're going to curse me? Your only friend?"

Theodore looked devastated.

"What about you?" he turned to Pansy, his heart aching for her to come with him, to hold his hand all the way to the Dark Lord. They could be such a powerful couple.

She looked at him wordlessly. Then she slightly shook her head and breathed: "I'm waiting for Draco. He said he wouldn't be long."

His heart seemed to sink. It hurt physically, not just mentally. He stared at her and she stared back. "Draco might not be coming back," he snarled maliciously. He wanted it to hurt her. Pansy looked taken aback.

"Why would you say that?" she whinged. Daphne Greengrass looked angry at Pansy's behalf.

"Theodore, let's just stay here and wait it out," said Pansy.

"Traitors, all of you!" he shouted.

"He's been in charge for a year!" Pansy yelled at him. "And what good has it done us?"

Theodore looked raving. "Oh, I don't know – we've got a lot more resepect and power than the previous years!"

"That's because everyone's feared us!"

"So what?"

"So! Do you find it's been a pleasant year? I might be speaking for just myself but I even liked it better when that old tosser Dumbledore was running the place! At least then we weren't practicing Crucio on each other!"

"Some things need to be sacrificed for the greater good!" Theodore roared.

"This isn't the greater good!" Zabini spoke up. For once it was Pansy and Zabini on one side and Theodore on the other. It was unsual. They glanced at each other. "Mate, I don't want the Wizarding race to die out either, but I'm not willing to torture kids because of it! 'the greater good' that's bollocks! I get that you want Wizarding superiority over muggles and you don't want the Wizarding community to have to hide from them – I get it, mate – but that doesn't excuse all the blood and torture. It's the wrong way of doing it..."

Theodore wouldn't listen. He just wouldn't. His father hadn't been lying to him. He'd known this all his life and he wasn't about to change his mind because his only friend and the only girl he'd been in love with were saying it was wrong.

Daphne, Queenie and Tracey glanced at each other. Pansy and Blaise stared at him defiantly.

"Nott!" Millicent's rough voice shouted from downstairs. "Are you coming or what?"

Theodore gave them one last look, beforing fastening his cloak.

"Cowards."

And he left.


"My lord," Theodore bowed low. "I have come to fight for you."

Voldemort looked slightly amused but said, "You are very welcome, Theodore."

"As have I, sir," said Millicent, bowing clumsily, "If you'll have me."

"And who might this be?" the cold voice spoke with slight amusement.

"Millicent Bulstrode, sir."

Theodore knew he was making the right choice. He didn't have a choice, not really. Because for him, it was either living in this world, their world, with no respectable position whatsoever. He didn't fit. That's why he thought it better if the Dark Lord ruled. Perhaps there he could fit in, have a home. Theodore wanted power and glory and he knew he'd never have it in their world.

So perhaps, he thought, he could have it in His world.

Maybe he Theodore didn't love it. Maybe the Dark Lord scared him. He didn't know anymore. But at least then he would be someone.

In their world he was just a nasty Slytherin. But in His world he could be so much more.


The pub was dark, smelly, depressing. Vaguely, as she tiptoed downstairs to raid the bar, Pansy heard distant screams and curses and unmistaken thunderings of various magical creatures breaking into the castle bit by bit.

Shaking with fear, she hurried behind the bar and pulled up a few bottles of Butterbeer, half expecting someone to jump her from behind. Her neck shuddered, the darkness in the pub scared her but the thought of what was going on up at the school absolutely terrified her. Her stomach heavy with anxiety, she rose and saw her own reflection in the dusty mirror behind the bar. Paler than usual, with dark rings under her eyes from being awoken in the middle of the night, and still in her pink dressing gown.

She took a deep breath and then opened one of the bottles and pressed it to her mouth. Cold bubbly liquid raced down her throat, and she forced herself to down the whole thing. Anything to numb herself.

Then she braced herself to go back upstairs. She could hear their muffled voices through the mouldy wooden ceiling.

As she reached the top of the creaky staircase, she felt the Butterbeer reach her system. Her fingers tingled as she nudged the door open to hear Tracey Davis say, "Seriously. Salazar Slytherin was around hundreds of years ago. Isn't his views sort of... out dated?"

They all turned to Pansy when she emerged from the shadow. Blaise sat atop a dining table next to a basket of stale bread. Tracey stood up, daring the other girls to disagree.

They had all frozen to see what Pansy might say. But she only shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. She handed out the bottles to the four of them. Dapne's little sister Astoria was asleep in a corner. Suddenly the room lit up – an explosion of sorts coming from up the school, visible through the grimy window. They all drank silently.

"This is," Blaise Zabini then said in his slow deep voice, "if I'm not mistaken... Our chance to show everyone the worth of Slytherin house."

Pansy didn't even look up; she was now sipping dully on her second Butterbeer. But Tracey looked up, intrigued.

"What do you mean?" she said sceptically.

"To show everyone that we're... despite what Parkinson made it out to look like... that we're not all Death Eaters."

Pansy made a rude hand gesture towards him.

"This is our chance," Zabini repeated, looking out gravely over the four girls. "To choose sides."

"You mean fight against the Dark Lord?" squealed Pansy, suddenly terrified.

Daphne let out a surprised squeak, and Queenie shifted uncomfortably.

"My dad would kill me if I fought against the Dark Lord," said the latter. "Well, not kill me, but you get my drift."

"I'm not risking my life!" exclaimed Pansy. This idea was preposterous. "There are adults over there – Ministry lot and teachers and Order of the Whatsits. They can do it! They can't expect kids to fight in a battle!"

Daphne nodded at once. "We are adults," said Zabini quietly, "We're all of age, aren't we?"

"But," insisted Pansy, wide-eyed, "Daco's in there, fighting on the Dark Lord's side... Theodore and Millicent just went to join him. So have Bletchley and a whole bunch of our friends, Blaise! We can't fight against them! We can't fight against Draco's father and Queenie's father and Vince and Greg's fathers!"

"I'm sure if they saw us they would spare us."

"Oh please!" shouted pansy, looking slightly mad, "How naive are you! They would have to duel us surely! I'm not doing it, especially not when all of this could've been stopped if only Potter gave himself over!"

"Don't start that again," groaned Zabini.

Pansy turned round quickly and sent him a fiery look. "If you want to go back there and give your life for a bunch of Gryffindors who are never going to respect us anyway, go ahead! But I'm not betraying my friends and their fathers!"

Blaise's jaw clenched. He confessed himself defeated by Pansy Parkinson for the first and last time of his life, hopefully. It was a good idea in theory but there were too many he knew on the opposing side. He didn't particularly like Malfoy but he wasn't prepared to curse him if he got in his way. And Theodore was on the Dark Lord's side... He could never hurt him.

"I'm going home," mumbled Daphne, breaking the silence after a while, making the already nervous Pansy jump. She hadn't spoken in so long they'd almost forgotten she was there. "I'm going home with Astoria. Mum and dad will be dead worried. And..." she paused, looking at her sleeping sister, "I honestly can't see the point in staying."

Blaise had always known of her feelings for him but never acknowledged it. Now, he was about to use them against her to make her stay. Her long mousy blonde hair was unbrushed and her usually bright eyes were reddish and glassy.

"Daph," he said and he didn't think he'd ever spoken that softly to anyone. Her large sky blue eyes looked up at him slowly, tentatively, as if afraid to be put under his spell again. He always addressed her as Greengrass. She swallowed but said nothing. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Tracey's eyes narrowing beside him.

"Stay," was all he said. Unwillingly shocked, she sucked in a breath and her eyes widened.

Pansy looked between the two of them wordlessly. Tracey looked away. He hoped he hadn't ruined things with Tracey now. He kept looking at daphne. He didn't fancy her back but she had no family connections to the Dark Lord. Perhaps he could get her to join him to fight... or else it would just be nice to have company other than Pansy Parkinson.

"I..." she began and swallowed again, obviously weakened, "I... err..." she shook her head just slightly, and he saw the fear in her eyes.

Impulsively, he put his hand on the top of hers. Daphne exhaled and her face looked longing and hesitant. Tracey crossed her arms beside him and turned her head away.

"Stay with me," he said, his eyes still fixed on her. He had thought she'd crack easier actually. She squirmed.

"Why?" she breathed, and he knew what she hoped he would say.

After all, why couldn't he fancy her? She was the most beautiful girl in Slytherin, perhaps in the school. Perhaps because he'd never fancied anyone and was terrified of ending up like one of his mother's husbands. He looked into her eyes and saw longing. He knew she longed to be with him, she always had. He'd always been interested in school-work and hanging out with Theodore. Never girls, although they had always seemed to flock around him, which had always made Malfoy irritated. Yes, why couldn't he fancy her? If he could, he'd turn it on. Everything would be a lot easier if he fancied her. Then he could tell her what she wanted to hear right now.

"I fancy... a bit of company," he said instead, and he knew her heart sank. He couldn't lie. His fingers slipped over the back of her hand, around it as to hold her hand and put his fingers entwined with hers.

But she withdrew her hand and stood up violently. "I can't," she said, avoiding looking at him. "I'm leaving. Shall I go see if there are any Portkeys left or just use the floo?" she asked Pansy, eyes wide. Now she, too, looked a bit mad.

Pansy, surprised at her best friend's rejection of Blaise, looked at her with a mixture of shock and admiration, and said, "The portkeys will have gone by now."

Tracey refused to look at either of them.

"Floo it is then," said Daphne desicively, still not looking at Blaise, and strode over to where her sister lay on a hard wooden sofa in a corner just by the stairs leading down.

Blaise sat there, his eyes following her around until she vanished with her sister. He was surprised but not hurt or angry at her rejection, but almost proud of her strength.

"Well done, Daph," said Pansy seriously before she left. Blaise had never heard her voice without the sneering and mocking. "Give my love to your parents."

She nodded curtly at Pansy, supporting her half-asleep sister on the way to the fireplace. And in a whirl of green flames she was gone.