The next day began surrealistically enough with Malfoy still out of the picture. Pansy Parkinson was now clinging to Crabbe and Goyleand asking them questions about his old habits and bemoaning the loss as if the boy had actually died. Goyle suggested that Pansy "write the elegy in history class," at which point she smacked him upside the head and told him not to be dense.
"He's not actually DEAD, you know!" she said as they walked to history class.
"Maybe I meant eulogy" said Goyle vaguely.
"SAME THING!"
"I think we need a bathroom break," announced Crabbe, and he pulled Goyle into the boy's restroom on the floor.
"See you at class!" Pansy went on. "Stupid boys," she murmured to herself.
Meanwhile in the bathroom:
"Crabbe," Goyle put his hand on his friend's shoulder for support. "I dont think I have the moral strength to get through history class today."
"Yeah, let's skip and see how Malfoy is."
"Dare I enter his presence without the promised poem?"
"Improvise it if you have to."
"Fine."
Madam Pomfrey was glad to see Crabbe and Goyle, and although she was aware they had to be skipping class, she was glad for people to distract Malfoy from his continual whining ("who brought me lilies? don't these people know I can't stand the smell of lilies? I don't even like the name Lily!"). She showed them to him and disappeared.
"Who's there?" croaked Malfoy, who was bandaged as thickly as ever. His voice sounded weaker than it had yesterday.
"Just us," said Goyle, as they sat on his bed on either side.
"Ah, skipping history to see me?" the voice back to normal immediately.
"Seeing you to skip history," corrected Crabbe as he inspected the area. Someone had left a vase of white lilies on the bedside table.
"Do you know who visited me today?" asked Malfoy primly.
"The florist?"
"Guess again."
"Pansy?"
"Not yet."
"I give up," said Crabbe.
"Professor Snape!"
"I hope he didn't bring those flowers," said Crabbe.
"No! I don't know who did and when I find out, they're in trouble.. I hate lilies!" He tried to fold his arms, but the contact was too much for his burns, even with the bandages, and he wound up jerking his arms away from each other- into the companions on his either side.
"OOOWW!"
"Don't hit me!" Crabbe grunted.
"I didn't mean -- oowww, burns are the worst sort of injury!"
"So what did Snape want?" asked Goyle.
"Oh - er.. To yell at me for messing up our potion - and to tell me to recuperate by Saturday's Quidditch match!"
"He wants you to beat Potter," announced Goyle.
"Speaking of which, did you guys prank them yesterday?"
"Uhh... Not yet.."
"Fools." It was a knee-jerk reaction by now, and Crabbe and Goyle were so used to it that they didn't even bother to shrug it off.
"But we are going to," said Crabbe.
"Sure. And what about that poem then, Goyle?" Malfoy gave the distinct impression of being bored half to death.
"Uh - not done that either," he answered.
"What did you fools DO yesterday?" cried Malfoy. "Oh - let me guess - you ATE!"
"Yes, but -"
"Crabbe got into a row with the staircases in the east wing," said Goyle off-handedly.
"What!"
"I thought we decided we weren't going to talk about that, Gregory." Crabbe glared sternly above Malfoy at Goyle. Goyle returned his best "Did We?" look.
"Why don't you get into a row with those bloody lilies and throw them out before I start an allergic reaction here," said Malfoy. "I'd do it myself but my hands are all bandaged up and everything hurts - " he sniffled pathetically.
Goyle picked up the vase and held it toward Crabbe. "Pretend it's aTap-on Tap-off flower arrangement," he said. Lily pollen wafted down to Malfoy.
"AHHHHHH CHOOOOOOOOOO! ARGH oHhhhhhh! PAIN!" he groaned from the convulsion.
"Sometimes you really are a blockhead!" Crabbe said triumphantly, as Goyle stumbled over to the window and threw out the offending vase.
"I don't even want to KNOW what you idiots are doing up there!" Malfoy hissed. He sniffled violently.
"We should probably go -"
"back to history class-"
"-to lunch early?"
"Ok."
"JUST GO before one of you kills me!" cried Malfoy. "And find out who sent me those lilies and beat them up!"
An alarmed Madam Pomfrey came to the bed. "What's all this ruckus?"
"Oh, Draco's just allergic to lilies," said Goyle.
The afternoon passed without further incident. Dinner in the Great Hall proved to be a good time to plot, since Pansy was inexplicably missing throughout the meal.
"It has to be in a classroom, because we can't get into their common room."
"Not necessarily - what about flying? could we get in through the windows?"
"I guess we'll have to investigate. Can't we just pay off someone to let us in?"
"With whose money?"
"Draco's."
"mm, I like that idea."
"But flying is more adventurous."
"True." They were suddenly aware of a presence behind them. Crabbe turned clumsily and found Pansy Parkinson's pug face inches from his..
"Uh, Hi Pansy."
"YOU GUYS DIDN'T TELL ME DRACO WAS ALLERGIC TO LILIES!" Other Slytherin students turned in concern.
"Isn't everyone?" asked Goyle.
"AGH! You are such idiots!" she sat down in exhausted rage. "Now he's all mad at me."
"Truly I pity you, Pansy," said Goyle, "To lose the affections of one we love is indeed one of life's most difficult-"
Pansy glared at them. "Forget it - I'm going to talk to Blaise. You two are no help!" With no further adieu, she jumped up and moved down the table to sit with Blaise Zabini. Crabbe and Goyle watched curiously.
"We should probably set them back up again," said Goyle with a sigh.
"But I don't want to play matchmaker."
"Yes, but you know how it is when they're bickering." Crabbe shuddered; the remembrance of their last argument was enough to encourage anyone to go into match-making. Draco had called Pansy a "pudge-faced, bossy little twat," in response to which she set off an earth-quaking spell in the middle of the Slytherin common room. Luckily Snape had arrived in time to prevent anyone from falling into the gigantic crevasse threatening to engulf the fireplace.
Crabbe chewed thoughtfully. "Maybe they'll fix themselves when he gets better."
"I don't know. He really hates lilies."
"Heh. Stupid lilies."
"Maybe we can do that after the Potter prank. Let's go get our broomsticks."
"What - we just ate!" protested Crabbe.
"That guarantees that you won't get hungry halfway there."
After retrieving their broomsticks, Crabbe and Goyle headed to the nearest exit. Now that it was dark outside, they could easily sneak to the side of the castle where the tower containing the Gryffindor bedrooms overlooked the lake.
Crabbe looked up fearfully as the evening breeze rushed around the corner. "Has the tower gotten taller lately?"
"Er..Quite possibly," murmured Goyle. "Come on, it's now or never."
They mounted their broomsticks and rose toward the faint light flickering from one of the tower windows.
Will our heroes successfully infiltrate the Gryffindor common room? Will they ever amend the trouble sprouting from Pansy's lilies? Did the author really intend that terrible play on words? STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT EXCITING EPISODE!