Just Like Me

Disclaimer as usual.

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Dumbledore announced the Spring Ball at breakfast on the first morning back from Spring Break. The whole student body was delighted, until Dumbledore explained that it was for fifth-years and up only. The fourth-years and below sighed morosely and returned to their meals.

Pansy poked at her fruit salad. Students all around her excitedly discussed whom they would invite. Pansy glared at them, briefly wishing that she hadn't agreed to going with Blaise.

Blaise, who was sitting a few seats down from her, smiled. Pansy smiled back quickly and returned to staring at a mango.

A jab in the side brought her out of her reverie. It turned out to be Draco. "I didn't give you that fruit salad so you could meditate on it. Eat."

Pansy flipped a piece of orange at Draco and ate the pineapple that was under it. The orange catapulted past Draco's shoulder and hit the side of Crabbe's head. Crabbe didn't budge.

"So, going to the ball?" Draco asked, buttering his piece of toast.

"Yes, I am. Blaise asked me a while back," Pansy replied, eating the mango that she had been meditating on.

"He what?" Draco snapped. He put down his toast and turned to look at her.

"Asked me to go to the ball with him," Pansy said, and pulled a face. "I don't know why I agreed."

Draco glared malevolently at his butter knife for a moment, before speaking again. "Just so you know, you're coming with me to the graduation ball."

"I'd love to," Pansy said with a smile.

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By the next week, nearly everyone had a date. Draco was going with Tracey, and it was very public knowledge that Ron Weasley was escorting Granger. Pansy greatly enjoyed sitting in the library, watching students nervously asking each other.

The rumour going around was that Harry Potter wasn't going with anybody; Pansy wasn't surprised. She had a feeling that Potter would be a bachelor forever.

The ball was to be held on the last Saturday in March. Pansy already had elegant robes for it, unlike some students, who panicked and Floo'ed to Diagon Alley for a lightning-fast visit to Madam Malkin's.

On the day of the ball, Pansy locked Millicent out of their room for the afternoon so she could do her hair in peace. She may have been going with Blaise, but a public appearance was a public appearance, and Pansy intended to look her best.

It took her nearly the whole afternoon to prepare. Her robes were a deep red, and she knew that Blaise would be wearing blue. Not quite the colour she would have chosen for him, but nevertheless she was certain that it would be better than a Weasley wearing green.

Precisely half an hour before the ball was scheduled to begin, someone knocked on Pansy's door. "One moment," she called. Quickly putting her remaining earring on, she rose and opened the door.

Blaise smiled sheepishly. "Hi," he said, and presented her with a bouquet of flowers.

Pansy, determined to make the most of this mismatched attempt of a date, smiled and accepted the flowers graciously. "Thank you. Come in, I'm just about ready."

Blaise walked into the room, and looked around. Pansy quickly finished applying her makeup, put her shoes on, stood up straight and smiled brightly. "Shall we go, then?"

Blaise smiled, and offered her his arm. She took it, and they left.

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The Great Hall was decorated with flowers, birds, and cut-outs of little bunny rabbits. It was disgusting. At the end of the hall usually occupied by the teachers was a stage of sorts, on which a band was warming up. Blaise chattered away as he led her toward a table.

The other students trickled in, until the Great Hall was teeming with activity. Pansy watched the entrance, pretending to listen to Blaise and occasionally nodding and smiling.

Draco, of course, was five minutes late: just late enough for everyone to witness his entrance. Pansy smiled a little; she could guess how much time Draco had spent on his appearance. He swept in, his black clothing making his already pale skin seem luminous. His gaze flicked over the crowds of people, settling finally on Pansy. He smiled.

Pansy returned the smile, and forgot for a moment that Blaise was still talking.

Tracey, standing beside Draco, tugged on his sleeve and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, his expression returning to utter boredom. The two of them disappeared into the crowd.

Blaise continued talking. Pansy plastered a fake smile on, and pretended to listen. She had once been told that she was an excellent actress.

She continued to pretend until the band struck up the first song, and couples began to flood the dance floor. Blaise interrupted himself. "Come, the dancing's begun!" He took Pansy's hand and tugged her out into the middle of the room.

To Pansy's surprise, he wasn't a bad dancer, although he wasn't particularly good either. He stepped on her toes a few times, but didn't seem to notice.

It was far from romantic. While dancing, they carried on a debate about the merits of classical versus popular music. It lasted three whole songs, until Pansy finally managed to convince him that all music had its good points. After that, they fell silent.

Halfway into the fourth dance, Pansy was occupied in staring at a certain stone on the opposite wall, when a person appeared behind Blaise's back and tapped him on the shoulder.

Pansy fought to keep from smiling too widely when Draco smoothly nudged Blaise out of the way. "May I cut in?" he asked, and whisked Pansy away without waiting for an answer. She didn't look back.

They ducked through the crowd, until they were sufficiently far away from Blaise, whom Pansy imagined would look awfully bewildered. He didn't seem the type to be annoyed by cutting in. In her experience, talkative people were generally pretty easygoing, and Blaise was the most talkative person she knew.

Draco's arms circled her waist, and he grinned at her. "You looked ever so interested in him," he commented, steering her toward the edge of the crowd. Pansy smiled. "Lost your date?" she asked.

Draco nodded, glancing over to the drinks table. "As far as she knows, I went to get a drink. I just might take a bit longer than she thought about it. Davis is insufferable in large doses."

They reached the doors of the Great Hall, and Pansy raised an eyebrow. "We're leaving? So soon? What a shame," she deadpanned.

Draco laughed. "Cry me a river, Parkinson. We might as well leave, it's a terribly boring ball anyway."

"Blaise helped arrange it. Could it possibly be interesting?" Pansy glanced at Draco. "I hope we're not going outside. This robe isn't built for warmth, you know."

"It's March. It's not cold." Draco walked down the steps leading to the double doors.

"There's still a nasty breeze coming from the north. It may not be cold for you, but that's because you're wearing more than one layer." Pansy gestured at her robe, which was made of very thin silk.

"That's your only layer, then?" Draco whistled appreciatively. Pansy smacked his arm. "No, you idiot, I do have some things on under it. I'm just not dressed as heavily as you are."

Draco glanced down at his heavy velvet robe, which lay open over a dark blue shirt and black pants. He shrugged the robe off and draped it over Pansy's shoulders, before pushing one door open and walking outside.

"Just have to have your way, don't you?" Pansy wrapped the robe around herself and followed Draco.

"Always," he called back over his shoulder. "I'm a Malfoy."

"Like father, like son," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. She walked faster and caught up with him.

The sun had just set an hour before, and the moon was rising. Draco picked his way down the steep path that led to the lake, which sparkled, reflecting the moonlight. After a few minutes, Pansy stopped in her tracks. "I can't walk down this hill in these heels," she said, planting her hands on her hips. "I refuse to risk breaking my neck for one of your whims."

"You wouldn't die for me? I'm hurt," Draco teased, turning around. Pansy rolled her eyes. "I would, but not because you want to wander around at night. Ask me that again when you're in mortal danger."

Draco regarded her for a moment, an odd expression on his face. Abruptly, he walked back up the path, picked her up, and carried her down toward the lake.

"Much better," Pansy said, smiling.

"You are much too light," Draco said, a frown creasing his face.

"My weight is fine," she replied.

"You're too light. If you even hint that you think you're overweight, I will drop you into the lake," he warned.

"I'm not fat, but I could do with a little less fat on my hips." Pansy glanced down at herself.

"Well, I think you're beautiful, and I have excellent taste. Also, I'm a Malfoy. Therefore, I win the argument."

They reached the bottom of the hill, and Draco put her down carefully.

They walked together, silently, around the lake. A gust of wind blew across the water, causing Pansy to shiver and pull the robe more tightly closed.

"You know, you and Zabini make a terrible-looking couple," Draco said finally, breaking the silence.

"And Tracey looks terrible beside you," Pansy replied.

"Davis always looks terrible." Draco grinned.

"That's not true," Pansy protested half-heartedly. "She has her good points."

Draco considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "No, she doesn't, although I admit that she's not as repulsive as Bulstrode."

"Millicent looks like an excessively repulsive man with breasts. Nobody could possibly top her." Pansy shuddered.

Draco snorted with laughter, and agreed.

They continued walking. The water of the lake stirred, startling a small flock of birds that had been on a bush by the shore into flight.

"You shouldn't have gone with Zabini," Draco grumbled, sounding like a petulant child. "You should have gone with me."

Pansy reached over and took Draco's hand, squeezing it lightly. "I know. Next time."

Draco smiled at her, and squeezed her hand back. They continued walking in amiable silence, almost halfway around the lake by now, near a large outcrop of rock. Just as they were about to pass it, Draco paused, and tugged Pansy toward the rock. When she looked at his, her expression questioning, he grinned. "Come on," he said, and gently pulled on her hand again.

Pansy followed him. Draco sat down, facing the lake, and pulled her down beside him. She sat, and he put his arm around her, holding her close.

"It's beautiful," Pansy said softly. Far off, at the other end of the lake, a fish jumped. The ripples spread slowly. Pansy followed them with her eyes.

She could feel Draco nodding in agreement, his cheek pressed against her hair. He stroked the palm of her hand with his thumb, and watched as the ripples touched the shore.

"Tracey's not good enough for you." Pansy rested her head against Draco's shoulder and looked up at him.

"Oh? And who is?" Draco's lips quirked into a brief smile.

"Me, obviously," Pansy said. She smiled, and was about to turn back to watching the lake, when Draco caught her chin in his hand. Pansy's eyes met his; they were almost silver in the moonlight, instead of their usual cold grey.

She closed her eyes as Draco drew closer, and then his lips were pressing softly against hers. His hand moved from her chin, and cupped her cheek.

They separated, and Draco smiled. He let go of her cheek, took her hand again, and whispered, "I agree."

Pansy laced her fingers between his, and leaned into Draco. He circled her waist with his arm, and they turned back to the lake. A school of tiny, silver fish swarmed by, disappearing into the dark depths.

On the top of the hill, light gleamed from the windows of Hogwarts, but other than those tiny pinpricks of brightness, the castle blended into the night sky.

Another fish jumped. The splash it made when it hit the water again was barely audible.

The moon shone down, illuminating the two figures who sat on a rock, talking quietly, until they both realized that they were supposed to be back in their dormitories. The taller figure picked the smaller one up, and carried her back to the school, where they opened the great double doors and disappeared inside.

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Blaise was just as friendly as ever the next day, leading Pansy to think that her conclusions about him had been right: he was incredibly easy-going, and didn't mind if his date was stolen right out from under his nose.

Tracey, however, was extremely miffed and refused to talk to either Pansy or Draco until Draco apologised.

"Apologise?" Draco said incredulously when Pansy told him. "Malfoys don't apologise."

"Tracey won't be talking to you for a while, then," Pansy said, amused.

"Good. Dealing with her was getting to be irritating," Draco said, and finished doing his hair.

They walked to breakfast, taunting each other. "What beautiful hair you have!" Pansy exclaimed, and received an elbow to the ribs. Not a very hard jab, but she gasped and turned on Draco anyway. "Domestic abuse! Woman-beater!"

Draco raised both eyebrows. "I hardly think that counts as beating you, Parkinson."

"I am mortally wounded, Draco," Pansy said, her eyes large and sorrowful. "In my heart." She placed her hand dramatically over her chest, and pretended to faint.

Draco caught her and set her on her feet again. He bowed exaggeratedly. "Now, was that something a woman-beater would do?"

Pansy gave him a measured look, and finally said, "If the woman-beater was trying to win back his lady's heart so that he could abuse her again, yes."

Draco rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Pansy's waist, leading her toward the Great Hall. "Come on, you prime example of Battered Women's Syndrome. Breakfast awaits."

"Forcing me to eat!" Pansy exclaimed. "Crueler and crueler!"

A group of passing Hufflepuffs gave them a collective look that conveyed how utterly puzzled the poor little badgers were at this odd Slytherin behaviour. Pansy fell into a fit of giggles, and Draco picked her up and carried her the rest of the way.

He deposited her upon the top of the Slytherin table, beside the plate of fruit. Sitting down on the bench, he plucked an apple from the array of fruit and tossed it to her. "Eat."

Pansy cut the apple into sections, and popped one piece into her mouth. "Only the apple," she said when she had swallowed. "I'm not eating any of your heavy porridge."

"Neither am I, the stuff's disgusting," Draco said, an expression of distaste crossing his face when he looked at the bowl of lumpy porridge. He leaned back, looking for the two idiots.

"Crabbe, Goyle. Want some porridge?" he called, locating them a few seats down.

They looked at each other, looked back at Draco, and nodded. "I like porridge," Crabbe called back.

Draco passed the bowl down, and picked up an orange. "What about this? It's not porridge," he said, tossing it from hand to hand.

"Apple only," Pansy repeated, and ate another section. Draco rolled his eyes, which was as close to admitting defeat as a Malfoy could get, and reached for the marmalade. He spread it on his toast and took another apple.

Pansy reached over the plate of toast and picked up the water pitcher, pouring another cup for herself. While she was occupied with this, Draco took the opportunity to sneak more apple pieces on her plate.

The whole room looked up when Ron Weasley burst through the doors, yelling "Harry! Hermione!" loudly. When he saw the stares, he stopped in his tracks, apologised quickly, and continued on his path to the Gryffindor table.

"I almost pity his parents," Draco said.

Everyone in the room could hear Ron's frantic conversation with his posse. "Yes! Blue!" he was saying, gesticulating wildly.

"Why would she change her dress colour?" Hermione said, frowning.

"I don't know, she just muttered something about pink not being her colour and flounced off to find a matching hat," Ron said, sounding utterly confused. "And she's demanding that somebody talk to the Headmaster, she probably means you, Harry, and get her name changed."

Pansy, catching on, burst into another fit of giggles. Draco looked at her curiously.

"Changed to what, the Blue Lady?" Harry said incredulously. He put down his muffin and got up.

The whole Gryffindor table stared, and started to talk among themselves.

"What do we do what do we do what do we do?" Ron asked, hopping from one foot to the other.

"Well," Harry began, "I guess it's her choice. If she wants a blue dress, I mean, she can have one. We can talk to Professor McGonagall about it later."

Ron looked at him like he had three heads. "She's been the Fat Lady forever and a day! She can't just change now!"

Hermione sighed, and began to butter another roll. Harry took Ron outside, talking to him in a quiet, measured voice about overreacting.

Pansy continued her fit of mirth, ignoring Draco's questioning glances. Eventually, he pulled her down off the table and demanded to know what was so funny. She told him.

"Well, at least we know that our statue isn't self-conscious about his looks," Draco said, downing another cup of juice. "He's terribly ugly, and he's been there so long that we'd have noticed any paranoia by now."

"Statues can't change their clothes," Pansy said. She fought to keep from laughing again.

She failed.

Draco rolled his eyes, and it occurred to Pansy that only a Malfoy would have rolled his eyes at least three times (not counting those that may have occurred while she was away from him) before 9 AM.

Pansy was in high spirits for the rest of the day. She and Draco stole away after dinner, and they lost themselves in the top floors of Hogwarts. Only the house-elves ventured to some of the places farther up, and they spent hours discovering rooms and halls and balconies.

When they returned to their rooms, it was nearly 11. Pansy unlocked her dormitory, and turned to say goodnight to Draco. He caught her around the waist and kissed her, taking her by surprise. She smiled into the kiss, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Goodnight, then," she said when they parted, a brilliant smile on her face. Draco grinned. "Sweet dreams," he said, and walked down the hall toward his room.

When Pansy woke up the next morning, she couldn't remember what her dreams were, but she knew that they had indeed been sweet.