2/23/21

Author's Note: The next chapter will bring George's return, which means... more shenanigans. :D

Holidating

by idreamofdraco

Valentine's Day 2006

"Valentine's Day is only a few days away. Just owl her already," Pansy said from Draco's favorite armchair by the fire. It was the one closest to the window but best suited for protection against a draft because of the way Draco kept it angled. And Pansy was sitting in it.

She put her feet up on his favorite ottoman, the fire warming her stockinged feet.

Draco sat on the loveseat across from the chair, which was not nearly as comfortable or warm. The draft from the window funneled underneath the legs of his favorite chair and ottoman, hitting Draco's feet directly. Not even wool socks and soft slippers could warm his toes.

"I don't have any social plans. I assume if she hasn't written, she must not have any plans, either."

Pansy took a bite from a strawberry that she'd retrieved from his kitchen upon arrival. She slouched in Draco's chair, a whole bowl of strawberries resting on her stomach as if it was her chair and they were her strawberries.

"But you don't know. Didn't you agree to be holidates for a year? You should check in."

Draco could barely think about Valentine's Day when he was still processing New Year's Eve. Namely, Weasley's face when he'd returned from the loo, like she was a lost kitten in need of a home. She and Potter had been staring intently at each other, but his expression had been sorry, not sorrowful. All around them, the rest of Weasley's family was snogging the daylights out of their significant others, and it was not hard to deduce that their happiness made Weasley feel insignificant.

Draco should have been there when the clock struck midnight, to kiss her like Potter had never seen her be kissed before. Maybe the desire he'd felt at the thought of those plump lips on his was a selfish manifestation of the realization that he'd missed an opportunity to stick one to Potter. But he didn't care if he broke Holidating Rule #1. Potter had let Weasley go, and Draco wanted to rub it in his face that he had her now.

It was a stupid thought. Why would Potter care who had her when he didn't want her in the first place? Still, there was an immature side of Draco that wanted to take everything Harry Potter had and twist it until it was his.

Pansy stood and went to Draco's desk, the bowl of strawberries perched between her arm and her waist as she rummaged through his papers and drawers.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for a quill and parchment. If you won't write to Weasley, I will."

Draco was too cold to move any further away from the fire, and, anyway, Pansy would do whatever she wanted in spite of Draco's wishes. She'd already made herself at home in his flat, eating his strawberries, sitting in his... chair… which was now vacant—

He jumped up and threw himself into the chair, stretching his long legs out onto the ottoman. A sigh escaped his lips as the heat from the fireplace finally warmed him and the superior angle of the furniture thwarted the draft. He leaned over the arm to see what Pansy was doing at his desk. A strawberry sat between her lips as she dipped a quill into a well of ink.

"Find what you were looking for?"

"Always do."

"Don't you think she'll know I didn't write the letter once she sees the handwriting?"

"You tell me," she said as she brought the slip of parchment to Draco.

He glanced up at her as he took it to find a self-satisfied smirk on her lips.

The parchment merely read, Be my valentine? but the handwriting was nearly spot on. The flourish in the Y was a bit more exaggerated than Draco's Ys, and the loop of her L was a little wider than Draco wrote his.

Draco arched a brow. "Why did you—"

"It is so very nice of you to invite me out every night. You have saved me from many a lecture about matrimony." Pansy sat on the arm of his chair inspecting her fingernails with nonchalance.

She spoke with such assurance that for a moment, Draco forgot that he had not sent the invitations that she implied he did. Oh, he certainly invited her over or out for dinner every once in a while. Not nightly, though. Clearly she'd taken advantage of an established behavior to create an opportunity to miss meals with her parents. From what Draco knew of the Parkinsons' desire to see their daughter wed, he could not fault her for forging letters from him.

"So?" she said, meeting Draco's arched brow with one of her own.

"It's fine work. The message is a little cliche… but go ahead and send it."

Pansy squealed with glee and jumped to her feet before she went to the window to whistle for Draco's eagle owl. Not even the angle of Draco's favorite armchair could save him from the wind that came inside with the owl.

She attached the note, locked up the window, and returned to the fireside, this time taking a seat on the loveseat Draco had vacated. Instead of sitting on it like a normal human being, she draped herself over it, her feet dangling off one arm, her head pillowed on the other. The piece was an antique from an unused parlor at Malfoy Manor. Draco couldn't imagine she was comfortable. If she wasn't, she did not let on.

She offered Draco one of his own strawberries, and he accepted it. He rarely cooked, but he kept his kitchen stocked with all manner of sweet things. If Weasley had been horrified by his ice cream sundae on Boxing Day, the sight of his pantry might give her a heart attack. Surely she could not object to some healthy fruits, though?

The thought of her only reminded him of New Year's Eve again and how the night hadn't gone how he'd expected. Weasley's—er, her brother, Ron's—outburst at their arrival had been what he imagined the entire evening would be like, with even more outrage and Potter pouting. Weasley's prediction had come true when she'd said her family would be friendlier to him after they returned from the kitchen, so the outrage he'd anticipated had not manifested. And while Potter had seemed a bit put out by Draco's presence, there had been no indication he'd been jealous or upset for Weasley's sake.

The conversation about what Draco did for a living had also been unexpected and surprisingly thought-provoking. The questions from Weasley's father, from Granger, had left him feeling hollow and useless. Draco had been raised to believe in his own importance. The idea that he was useless did not sit well with him. And while he saw absolutely no reason to work when he didn't need to make money to live, he did understand the theory that people needed a purpose, something to do to make life worth living.

Even his father had had occupations. Maybe not for monetary compensation, but power, influence. His role on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, his work funding different projects and legislation at the Ministry that would favor the Malfoys' values—those endeavors had taken up his father's time even if they had not increased the Malfoy wealth. Draco could do something like that, couldn't he?

He didn't work because the money he'd inherited from his grandparents made money from compound interest by just sitting in a Gringotts vault. He would inherit more when his parents passed on. So what was Draco's purpose? Why did he get out of bed in the morning?

He hadn't known the answer on New Year's Eve, and he still didn't know it now, which was unsettling. Draco didn't like not knowing something about himself. Now that this question had been brought to his attention, he was determined to find an answer. His preoccupation with the mystery nearly eclipsed his thoughts about the opportunity he'd missed with Weasley on New Year's Eve. However, both thoughts had been distracting enough in the week and a half since he'd left her parents' house.

Draco wasn't sure if he could say New Year's Eve had been fun, but he had enjoyed Weasley's company, even the silent moments in the orchard, passing a bottle of champagne back and forth in the dark.

Without thinking, his fingers came up to his lips, brushing against them as he thought about Weasley's lips against the opening of the bottle, and then Draco placing his lips over the same opening, indirectly kissing each other through the champagne. If he'd returned from the loo in time, Draco might now know what it was like to press his lips against hers, no bottle between them.

A tapping from the window drew him from his reverie. As he glanced up, Pansy was staring at him, a feral smile on her face. She jumped up to let the owl in before Draco could, and then a moment later, she tossed a copy of today's Daily Prophet into his lap.

Upon unfolding it, he was accosted by a large photo of Potter outside a fine dining establishment in Diagon Alley, his head bent over the petite form of a dark-haired woman. A moment later he straightened, revealing Cho Chang smiling up at him like he had saved the world with his kiss or some shite.

A speculative article had been written about Potter's new relationship with Chang, and as expected, Weasley was mentioned multiple times. Draco read through the garbage—how had this drivel made the front page?—his stomach tightening into a denser knot the more he read. He lowered the newspaper and met Pansy's curious gaze.

"I suppose she's not interested in celebrating Valentine's Day this year."

Pansy placed the nearly empty bowl of strawberries on the table next to the loveseat and crossed her arms over her chest. "Did she put a notice in the newspaper to tell you that?"

He flashed the photo at her and then explained. "It seems Potter's got himself a new girlfriend. Not only is she one of his exes, she's also a Quidditch player, like Weasley. A Seeker, like Potter. And… her team beat Weasley's in their last match on Saturday."

"Even more reason for her to get out there on Valentine's Day! To spite Potter and his new old girlfriend!"

Draco didn't necessarily disagree, but how would they celebrate? Attend a couples event where they would be surrounded by real couples sickeningly in love with each other? Have dinner together so she could spend her evening with someone with whom she had nothing in common? Anything they could do would just serve as a reminder that no one was in love with either of them. Maybe they'd be together, but after one holidate, they weren't friends and going out with each other would probably result in a stilted and miserable evening.

Although, the time they'd spent alone together on New Year's Eve hadn't been stilted or miserable… but Valentine's Day was different.

He went to his desk to compose a reply. Before he could think of something to say, another owl tapped against his window. He didn't recognize it, but when he removed the letter attached to its leg, all became clear.

Sorry, I sent the attachment before I finished my letter. Your owl is very impatient, did you know?

Draco looked over to Pollux, who was stoically receiving head scratches from Pansy by the fire.

If you're asking me on a holidate for Valentine's Day, I'm not in the mood. I have practice that morning, and I plan on spending my night gorging myself on chocolate and alcohol against my nutritionist's orders. See previous attachment for my lack of Valentine's cheer.

Well, Draco had no particular feelings about Valentine's Day, so if she wanted to skip the holiday, that was fine by him.

Still on for the next holiday then? he scrawled on a slip of parchment before sending Weasley's owl off into the sunset with it. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to ask. It had been her idea to remain holidates for the entire year. Ignoring one holiday didn't mean she wanted to ignore the rest.

But that conversation from New Year's Eve continued to torment him in the back of his mind, making his thoughts race. No one except Ron Weasley had acted resentful toward Draco when they had discussed his lack of a career, but he still wondered whether Weasley regretted entering into this arrangement with him. Perhaps that night had reminded her of how different they each were, how little they had in common, or how fraternizing with him could tarnish her own reputation or values. He wouldn't blame her if she chose to end their agreement, but he would certainly be annoyed. All that introspection he'd endured for nothing.

"What are you thinking about?" Pansy asked with an exasperated sigh, just as Draco realized she'd been speaking to him this entire time and he hadn't heard a single word. "No, I know exactly what you're thinking about."

"I am not thinking about Ginny Weasley," Draco grumbled.

Pansy feigned shock, wide eyes, hand on her chest as if he'd accused her of something completely out of character. "I was merely going to say you must be wondering what Astoria is going to do when she finds out you sold her custom robe for eleven Sickles. But since you mentioned Weasley, that must be where your thoughts truly lie."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her.

"You've been distracted all afternoon, even before I sent that owl, and you mean to tell me the reason isn't because of a Weasley? Any Weasley? A particular Weasley?"

"If you're in the mood for conversation, why don't you go home and talk to your mother?"

Pansy's lips pressed together into a thin line, the humor on her face dissipating. She stood up, her eyes lowering to the floor. "You're in a sour mood. And you're not my only friend who will let me hide at their place to avoid my parents." She donned her cloak and gloves, which she'd thrown carelessly over his desk chair upon her arrival a few hours ago, and her shoes, which she'd left next to the door. Before she exited his study, she threw over her shoulder, "You're just my favorite one."

The door closed behind her with a forceful click.

Draco groaned and pressed his palms into his eyes, shame creeping up his neck in the form of heat. Pansy hadn't deserved that from him. In fact, if he'd let her, she might have been able to help him parse through the confusing thoughts Weasley had inspired surrounding jobs and privilege and kisses. She would have been insufferable about it, but in the end her advice might have been useful. Hadn't she been right about Draco holidating after all?

Well, he supposed that still remained to be seen.

Speaking of his holidate, a tap at his window interrupted his thoughts, Weasley's owl flapping against the glass. The bird allowed him to retrieve Weasley's reply just before swooping into the corner of the room to huddle against a skeptical Pollux.

We are absolutely on for the next holiday. Holidate's honor. Also, why did your handwriting suddenly change?

Draco smiled at the parchment, glad that no one except the owls were there to witness his relief.

On Valentine's Day, the streets of Hogsmeade were drenched from the morning downpour, and a chill wind buffeted against Draco. The storm had stopped hours ago, but it had left behind puddles. Draco was glad he'd worn his best pair of boots, which were his favorite and oldest pair. Puddle hopping was much easier in comfortable shoes.

High Street was nearly deserted except for the occasional couple promenading the wet street arm in arm, either on their way to or departing from a dinner reservation.

Draco had no such plans, of course. He hadn't heard from Weasley since the weekend, when she'd declined to make holidating plans with him. Instead, he was on his way to Honeydukes for his favorite Valentine's Day pastime: shopping clearance sales. All of the sweets marketed specifically for Valentine's Day went on sale promptly at 6pm, an hour before Honeydukes closed, and Draco got a special thrill each year out of buying out the rest of the holiday stock at a discount price.

One year, a forgetful man had run into the shop looking for a last-minute Valentine's Day gift for his significant other and instead had watched in dismay as Draco purchased every last piece of Valentine's Day themed chocolate. That night, Draco had shared his chocolate with Pansy as they laughed together at the thought of the man returning to his partner with generic sweets instead. That had been a good day.

The sale wasn't what mattered to him. His Gringotts vault hardly noticed the difference between discounted and full-price chocolate. But it did feel a bit like winning the jackpot to return home with enough sweets to last him a month for less than half the price, even if he had to pay for the prize anyway. He could practically taste the caramel-centered chocolate bonbons that were his favorite treat to himself whenever he visited Honeydukes.

His daydreaming of chocolates was cut short when a burst of wind sent a flash of red flailing in the light that emanated onto the street from Honeydukes' shop front. At first he thought it was a scarf, but a second glance revealed Weasley's notorious red hair gathered in a ponytail on top of her notorious head, thrashing in the wind. And she was not alone.

Bathed in light from Honeydukes, Weasley was clear as day even though night had fallen. Her cloak billowed around her, revealing the muddy Quidditch kit she was wearing. Her companions had their backs to Draco, their identities hidden, though he thought one was a man and one a woman. Hard to tell in their layered clothing. What he could see was the panic on Weasley's face, her wide eyes, the flush in her cheeks, the way she clutched her shopping bag in her arms and clenched her jaw. The tension in her frame was palpable and made Draco's muscles ache worse than the cold, wet weather did.

He drew closer but slowed down, raising his arm in a half-wave to get Weasley's attention so he wouldn't catch her off guard.

"Look who it is!" she said, her voice overly bright, her eyes just as shiny.

Her companions turned and Draco suddenly understood her distress. She had been spotted and stopped by Potter and his new girlfriend, Chang, and she had no idea how to extricate herself from the situation.

Draco's whole body straightened as he pushed his shoulders back. She had not communicated that she needed anything from him, or that she was even happy to see him, but he saw it all in her eyes. She needed a lifeline and someone to tow her out of the choppy seas and back to dry land.

There was no dry land here, but she had her holidate.

Potter frowned as Draco approached, and then he frowned harder when Draco wrapped an arm around Weasley's shoulder and pulled her into his side.

"There you are, bugaboo." Draco smiled his most obnoxious smile, and Chang looked back and forth between them, her sharp fringe unable to hide the confused crease in her brow. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting."

Weasley laughed, the sound shrill and unnatural. Draco squeezed her tighter.

"Not at all! I… I was just buying you a gift. Sorry… last minute…." Her voice wandered off, losing confidence.

Draco played along because Potter was watching. Hell, he probably would have played along no matter who was watching, but the fact that it was Potter motivated Draco to lay it on thick.

"You didn't have to get me anything, angel. I was just on my way to buy you a treat." And then Draco did something so out of character, so ridiculous, so humiliating... He booped her nose.

Booped. Her. Nose. With the sound effect and everything. Except he was wearing mittens, so it looked more like he'd honked her nose instead.

Weasley was so distracted by what he'd done, bewilderment replaced the panicked expression. Her mouth fell open in shock.

Draco smiled widely and turned to Potter and Chang, who were staring with matching expressions of perturbation. "Do you have Valentine's Day plans, too?"

"Uhhh…." Chang said before looking at Potter as if she was ready to leave immediately.

Draco stroked Weasley's ponytail. His other arm was still around her shoulder, so they were practically embracing. "We have big plans, don't we, duck?"

The way Draco held her, his shoulders blocked Potter from view. Something about the booping and the stroking seemed to bring her back to life because her body loosened and when she met Draco's gaze, the tension in her forehead was gone and she managed to blink away the shininess in her eyes.

"So many plans," she said, turning a determined gaze onto Potter and his girlfriend. "The kind of plans that last all night long."

Considering Draco's previous Valentine's plans had included eating chocolate in front of the fire with a novel, his night was looking up. Then he thought about what kind of all night plans might include chocolate and Weasley and his whole body stiffened and grew warm. His heart pounded in his chest. It was a joke. He knew this was all a joke to get under Potter's skin, but damn if the idea hadn't gotten under Draco's in the most pleasant and torturous way.

"Oh!" Chang gasped, her confused stare from earlier transforming into curiosity.

Potter's mouth tightened. "I thought you two weren't dating."

"Who says you need to date someone to have sex with them?" Weasley snapped.

The way she said the word sex slithered down Draco's spine and pooled in his gut. He gulped and stopped stroking Weasley's hair, but he didn't release her from his side.

"You know, that's how Harry and I started dating," Chang said. "It was just sex at first, but after a month of that, we realized how much we loved spending time together not having sex, too. It was sweet." She smiled up at Potter, whose expression would have been comical if Weasley hadn't gone so completely still. Her stillness trembled its way through their point of contact at her shoulder, up Draco's arm, making alarm bells sound inside his head.

He could have hexed Chang. And he wasn't sure if she was being cruel on purpose or just oblivious. It didn't matter; she deserved to be hexed for being so stupid.

Draco took control of the situation before anyone else opened their mouths and made it worse. He didn't look at Weasley, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that she was struggling to respond. He plastered a smile on his face, the smirky kind Potter would probably despise.

"It sounds like we all have busy plans for tonight," he said dryly. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I'd rather be fucking my holidate's brains out than standing here talking to either of you."

As Draco pulled Weasley out of Honeydukes' light, away from Potter and Chang, back down High Street in the direction from which he'd arrived, he realized not one word of what he'd said had been a lie. The sexual attraction was there, whether Weasley wanted it or not, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. It didn't matter that he felt a connection with her, though. Holidate Rule #3 had been her idea. The chances of Weasley accepting or reciprocating his attraction were not just low, they were non-existent. That was exactly why they'd come to this agreement, because Weasley wouldn't get the wrong idea about what he wanted from her.

But what did he want from her?

"Where are we going?" she demanded after a minute or so of walking. She tugged her hand out of his grip and stopped.

Draco turned, looking around them for inspiration. He hadn't had a destination in mind; his only thought had been to get her away.

"Well, Madam Puddifoot's is in the opposite direction, so I suppose we're going to Memorial Park instead."

She glared at him. "Your choices were Madam Puddifoot's or the Shrieking Shack?"

He smiled without humor. "The only choice I made was to get you as far away from Potter as I could. I wasn't thinking about where we were going."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Oh." After a moment, she repeated, "Memorial Park?"

Draco shrugged, feeling silly now. Near the Shrieking Shack, a piece of land had been cleared out to erect a monument in honor of those who'd fought at the Battle of Hogwarts eight years ago. The citizens of Hogsmeade had raised the funds for the park and named it themselves. As one of the aggressors at that battle, of course Draco shouldn't go there. It would be insulting to step foot on land marked to honor heroes.

"There isn't much on that end of High Street. Memorial Park, the station, The Three Broomsticks…."

"No, it's perfect," she insisted. "No one will be there in this weather."

Her hand swung toward Draco as if she meant to grab his, but then she jerked it away, tucking it into the pocket of her cloak instead. A pang of disappointment speared through him, but he tried not to think about it as he followed her.

Just as she'd hoped, Memorial Park was deserted. The gazebo that had been built in memory of the battle was the only dry spot in all of Hogsmeade. Its wooden beams were wrapped with vines that sprouted tiny white flowers, even on a freezing, February night, making it look like an oasis, a place of respite from the cold. Stairs led up to the gazebo, and a bench ran along the inside edge of it. In the center, a blue fire burned on a bed of untouched coal, undaunted by the wet weather. The fire had burned non-stop since the day Memorial Park had been inaugurated, symbolizing the fire that had burned in the hearts of those who had fought and prevailed at the battle. Or something equally as shitey. Draco wasn't really sure what the flames represented.

They climbed the stairs and both of them sighed as soon as they were under the gazebo's roof. The fire not only kept the gazebo dry, but warm, too.

Weasley took a seat and set her shopping bag beside her before removing her mittens. Draco sat a couple feet away from her, the bag between them as a barrier. His own mittens and scarf came off now that they were sheltered from the weather. They stretched their legs out toward the fire, trying to dry their wet clothes.

"What's in the bag?" Draco asked.

Her cheeks reddened, but she nudged the bag toward him for his inspection.

He smiled when he discovered clearance chocolates from Honeydukes.

"Hey!" Weasley said, reaching over the gulf between them for the box that Draco had just opened.

Draco snatched it away and popped a bonbon into his mouth. "Rescuing you ruined my Valentine's Day plans. The least you could do is share your chocolate as repayment for my kindness."

She made a face while he spoke with his mouth full, but maybe she conceded to his logic because she slumped against the back of the bench and crossed her arms over her chest. Gulping, she said without looking away from the blue flames, "Valentine's Day plans, huh? Did you find yourself another holidate?"

Draco pulled a sack of chocolate tadpoles out of the shopping bag and sat it on top of the bonbon box. "What? No, of course not. Every Valentine's Day, I buy out Honeydukes' stock of Valentine chocolate. This year, I didn't even make it inside the shop." He sighed loudly. Then he scooped a handful of wiggly tadpoles out of the sack and stuffed them in his mouth.

Weasley frowned at him, but she didn't stop him from consuming her sweets. When Draco held the sack out to her—offering it to her the same way Pansy had offered him his own strawberries mere days ago—she took a few and let him keep the rest.

The thought of Pansy made Draco's stomach sour. She hadn't come back around since storming out of his flat that weekend, which made him think she wasn't going to sweep this argument under the rug like she usually did. Draco was always saying something unnecessarily mean when she pushed him too far, but she also always forgave him to the extent that the next time he saw her, she'd be her usual self again and they would just pretend it never happened. If she wasn't going to let his words go, then that meant Draco would have to… apologize.

The tadpoles turned into a lump in Draco's throat. He swallowed it with difficulty and then returned the chocolates to Weasley's shopping bag, his appetite gone. He sat in the silence, brooding at the flames like Weasley, until she broke the silence with a hesitant question.

"Can I ask you something? About what you said back there… to Harry?"

Draco sighed again. "I know I broke the first rule of holidating, but I was following your lead and Potter deserved it."

"The first rule?"

"Thou shalt not provoke thy family and friends. But is he even your friend anymore? He's certainly not your family."

Weasley blinked her large brown eyes at him, and Draco swore he could see the reflection of the flames in them. His heart beat hard in his chest, wondering what he'd done wrong besides the obvious, wondering if this was something else he needed to apologize for even though he really didn't want to because he'd meant everything he'd said.

"Right," Weasley said slowly. "The first rule." She seemed mystified at first, and then she lowered her eyes, turned her head.

Draco leaned forward, trying to capture her gaze again so he could try to interpret her reaction. He didn't understand it. "Did you think I was serious about wanting to shag you?"

That question got her looking at him again, her impossibly large eyes widening even more. "Of course not! That would be—I mean, that's just—"

"Absurd," Draco finished, relieved that she hadn't seen through him to the truth he'd accidentally spilled to Potter and his girlfriend.

She laughed, and it was a little loud and wild. "Absurd! Exactly! As if we—"

"Right! Us! Shagging! It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever said!"

"The most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" she agreed.

Draco forced out a laugh. "As if I, a Malfoy, would ever willingly shag you."

"Right back at you!" she threw back at him, the cheer in her voice just a little too cheery.

Silence descended as quickly as the laughter and agreements had, and Draco couldn't help but feel like he'd said the wrong thing again.

Which didn't make any sense, because Weasley was the one who had put that boundary up between them, ensuring they could not confuse what holidating meant to them. So if she had been so determined not to have sex with Draco a month and a half ago, why did she seem offended now?

Maybe he'd imagined her reaction, because she sat up straight and looked at Draco again, and any sign that he might have even potentially hurt her feelings somehow was gone.

"Don't worry about the rules—I mean, the first rule! This time! Don't worry about breaking the rule this time. Even though Harry hurt me, I can't make a clean break with him, and for my family's sake, I don't want to. Harry and I are just going to have to learn how to be around each other. Maybe we can even be friends again one day. But…."

She looked around the gazebo, but searching for what, Draco didn't know. He was starting to think he would never truly understand this woman. Maybe it was better if he didn't. He still didn't know what kind of cat person she was—the normal, well-adjusted kind or a sad, weird one. He feared once he knew that, he'd know everything he needed to know about her. No, ignorance was bliss in her case, he decided.

Finally, she focused her attention back on him, and Draco's heart stuttered. No one except Pansy had ever looked at him the way Weasley was looking at him now, and Pansy had only looked at him like this when they were young and foolish, before they'd figured out that she and Draco made awful lovers and better friends.

Weasley released a breath, and with it went her tension. "Thank you for standing up for me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate having someone on my side. Even if… even if you're just pretending to be on my side because you know I'm not on Harry's side anymore…. It was nice to feel like you were in my corner anyway."

"It shouldn't be a game of sides, winner and loser. I doubt anyone in your life sees it like that."

"Maybe."

But she seemed doubtful. As if after seven years together, she had nothing to offer her friends or family without Potter on her arm. It reminded Draco of Pansy and how little her parents valued her while she remained unmarried. It was wrong and it angered him more than he could say, but what he couldn't say was why he cared so much about Weasley's wellbeing after this breakup. If he'd been interested in Potter's pain, that would be one thing. Watching Harry Potter lose at the game of life was Draco's very favorite pastime, especially since he always found a way to beat the odds and turn himself back into a winner. But Draco had spent more time thinking about how Potter's ex-girlfriend was holding up rather than Potter himself. It was… disturbing, attraction or no.

Instead of thinking about that, Draco turned his attention back to someone he actually cared about, and how he could apologize to Pansy without actually apologizing to her.

"So we both agree that I saved you from Potter and Chang, right?"

Her gaze turned shrewd and suspicious. "Sure, I guess."

"Then you'll let me keep your chocolates as repayment. You don't even like sweets. You told me so, remember?"

Weasley stared at him and Draco stared back, certain of her capitulation and not hiding that certainty from the expression on his face. Then he went a step further and reached into his pocket for his money pouch.

"If you won't give them to me, I'll pay you for them. Let's say… eleven Sickles?"

Her eyes narrowed.

He held the coins out to her in his open palm, the silver glinting with a hint of blue from the flames reflecting off their shiny surfaces.

She placed her hand on top of his, her fingertips warm against his palm and sending an electric shock up his arm. Then she took the coins, her fingernails scraping gently against his skin, which did nothing except send more electricity through the rest of his body like a lightning strike.

"My nutritionist thanks you."

"No gratitude from you though?"

"You have it," she said seriously. "Thank you."

Maybe it was wrong to look into her eyes and see his favorite caramel-centered chocolate bonbons, like she was a snack to be consumed instead of a person to be admired. But that's all Draco could think of as they looked at each other, unable to tear their eyes away. The brown of her eyes was warm and smooth and velvety, just like caramel and chocolate swirled together. Draco had the sudden desire to taste her.

Not her eyes. That would be weird.

Her mouth. Her jaw. Even the tips of her flaming red ears, which were exposed because she never wore a cap or earmuffs to keep them protected from the elements.

He gulped and pulled his gaze away, but it was as difficult as pulling caramel. Sometimes Draco watched the confectioners in Honeydukes make their candy behind the glass wall that divided the shop from the kitchen. Watching the witches pull sugar with their bare hands, even though the sugar had to be extremely hot to stay pliable, had always fascinated him. Looking away from Weasley felt like they were pulling caramel together to make the centers of his favorite bonbons, except unlike the Honeydukes confectioners, Draco didn't have strong enough muscles to succeed at the endeavor.

His gaze snapped back and so did hers.

And then they laughed at how ridiculously they were behaving, and Draco felt new kinds of warmth that had nothing to do with the sappy blue flames that heated their frozen cores.