"Right," Pansy says as she sits down opposite them in the Sporting Page. She is clutching a double gin and tonic. They are sat next to the fireplace at the back of the pub. It is decorated with garlands of holly and above them hangs something that Draco is suspicious might be mistletoe, but he's not going to point it out. "How long have you two been fucking?"
"Shouldn't we discuss the Simurgh-" Harry starts to ask, but Pansy cuts him off.
"-That can wait. How long?" She takes a long sip of her drink, not breaking eye contact with Harry.
"Since Halloween," Draco says. Pansy's forehead furrows. She turns to stare at Draco.
"But," she says. "That's when you told McLaggen you loved him. Your interview was on Halloween night."
"As I said before, I was fighting veritaserum to protect the identity of the Reliquary when he questioned me," Draco says.
"Do you love him?" Pansy asks. She leans forward and stares at Draco. "And don't change the subject this time."
"Objection," Harry says. "Relevance?" Pansy rolls her eyes and then turns to look at Harry.
"I need to know how stupid and reckless either of you might be if the other one gets in trouble," she says. "How irrational is Draco going to be if something happens to you and vice versa?"
"I would never-" Draco starts to say but Pansy cuts him off.
"-Draco I've known you since you were eleven. You would absolutely be irrational if something happened to someone you love." Draco glares at her. "You know I'm right. Isn't that why you did what you did sixth year?" Draco opens his mouth to protest and then shuts it, knowing she is, in fact, correct.
He doesn't like to think back to the summer in between fifth and sixth years but Pansy has brought up the issue now and so his mind goes back to that miserable time. Most of what he remembers is the fear. It was so palpable, Draco could taste it. All summer, everything tasted metallic. Even his birthday cake. Perhaps, his birthday cake in particular.
He'd gotten off the train at King's Cross - somehow - though he's still not entirely sure how as he had been jinxed by several of Harry's friends just moments before the train had arrived - and his mother had taken one look at him, pursed her lips and bundled him into the back of the car she had hired to take them home. It had been his last moment of reprieve for the entire summer.
Though she had told him that he needn't worry about her, when the Dark Lord had come and taken out his anger over his father's failings on her, Draco hadn't been able to stand it. He had tried to stay away - he really had - but it was impossible to ignore the screams of the woman who raised him. Of course, the sadness with which she had looked at him when he'd said he would do anything to get them to stop was almost worse. He had failed her. She had tried to protect him and he had failed. She had been strong for him, but he hadn't been strong enough for her. Even now, years later, it still galls.
The Death Eaters had celebrated his induction into their ranks with a birthday party. It had been a farce of a birthday party. Or at least, that was how it had felt to Draco. The cake tasted like ash. The snake on his arm - the one concession that the Dark Lord had allowed - still burned. His mother had smiled a rictus grin at him, her eyes red and swollen from tears. He still thinks of it as one of the worst days of his life.
He had spent the rest of the summer hiding from Death Eaters, hiding from the Dark Lord, trying to avoid being told to do anything. It hadn't worked. They had found him, even though he had hidden himself in the back of the deepest wardrobe in the farthest guest room they had. Of course they had. The Dark Lord hadn't been done with him after his snake tattoo, after conscripting him into the Death Eater's ranks. That hadn't been the point of him joining up. The point had been to get him to do things.
He had wanted to cry the Dark Lord had stared down at him, his red eyes flashing, and had instructed him to kill Albus Dumbledore. A summer's worth of worrying had culminated in that. The impossible task. Coupled with the threat of death if Draco failed. Draco wasn't sure if it was his death he worried about more, or his mother's. But the Dark Lord hadn't been done. As if that hadn't been difficult enough, Draco had to find a way to bring a group of Death Eaters into Hogwarts undetected… But he had agreed because he had to protect his mother.
So Pansy is right. Draco has done stupid things for love before.
He tries to think about what he might offer to do if he heard Harry being tortured. But things are different now. Right? He's not a sixteen year old boy anymore. He knows how to fight. He's fully capable of holding his own against another wizard, or even, he hopes, a group of wizards. And more importantly, he knows he's not alone. He has Pansy and - gag - McLaggen, not to mention Mortimer Banks and that other bloke who's apparently on the anti-Simi-whatsit team. And Greg, in a pinch.
"Fine," he says. "You have a point. But it's different now." And he lays out exactly why.
"So you do love him?" Pansy asks by way of response. Draco says nothing, merely blinks at her, his mouth pulled up to the side in irritation. "I will take your silence as a yes."
"You know, Pans," he says. "You have all of the social grace of an elephant in a china shop."
"I don't have time for your feelings, Draco," Pansy snaps.
"Then make time," he shoots back.
"The safety of-"
"Yes, yes the safety of the country is at stake. I know that. But surely it can wait five minutes." Pansy regards him cooly over the top of her glass.
"Fine," she says after taking a long sip. "Enlighten me. Tell me all about your bloody relationship."
"That's not what I was trying to say," Draco says. "I only meant that it's a damn good thing Harry and I have already talked about this, because otherwise this conversation would be much more awkward."
"So you're in love then?" Pansy asks.
"If we just say yes, can we just move on to the real reason we're here?" Harry asks. He has already finished half of his beer in his apparent agitation.
"Fine," she says. "You were saying there was something off about Granger." Harry nods and takes a long draught of his beer.
"Do you remember in First Year how she-"
"-No, Potter, I don't," Pansy say, cutting him off. "Because we weren't friends then."
"You would say we're friends now?"
"The jury is still out on that one." She smirks at him, though on balance, she would say that they were. "But you were saying?"
"Well, Hermione used to conjure these bluebell fires during the winter. Really, I think she was just showing off because she was the first of us to master it."
"Hermione Granger? Showing off that she was smarter than someone? Say it isn't so!" Draco cries.
"So these bluebell flames," Harry says, ignoring Draco. "She would conjure them to keep us warm, which is what I did tonight, because it was bloody freezing waiting for you two to be done in that house. Only Hermione asked where it had come from. I reminded her that she had taught me and she laughed and said she'd forgotten about it."
"And you made a big fuss of this?" Pansy asks. "Potter, there are plenty of things from First Year that I don't remember."
"Pansy, you don't understand. She used this spell to save my life."
"In First Year?"
"Voldemort tried to kill me."
"In First Year?"
"And Second Year. Third Year I got a reprieve, but then he was back at it Fourth Year."
"We get it," Pansy says. "You were the Chosen One."
"Right, so back to First Year. Hermione saved my life by setting Professor Snape's robes on fire with the bluebell flames."
"Snape would never," Draco gasps. He feels almost personally affronted.
"No," Harry agrees. "And he didn't. Professor Quirrell on the other hand-"
"-Didn't he die?" Pansy asks.
"Trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone," Harry says. "Yes."
"Hermione killed him?" Draco asks, aghast.
"No," Harry says. His tone is exasperated. "You two are impossible. Professor Quirrell tried to kill my by throwing me off of my broom."
"Oh right," Pansy says. "That was the match against Slytherin." She turns her attention to Draco. "Remember Draco, we spent most of the match laughing about how Harry couldn't ride his broom?"
"Oh yes," Draco says. He can't help but smile. It's a happy memory, laughing with Pansy and Greg (and Vince), but then he shoots a glance at Harry and the smile drops from his face. "Oh, we weren't hoping you would die. Just that you would embarrass yourself."
"Plus we were idiot kids," Pansy points out. "You must forgive us that."
"The point is," Harry says. "Hermione saved my life by distracting Quirrell using the bluebell flames, which is why she should remember them and that's why I'm concerned that she doesn't."
"So, you're saying what?" Pansy asked. Harry's face goes slack and he shrugs.
"I don't know," he says. "There's something off about her."
"Do you think she's not the real Hermione?"
"Maybe? I don't know."
"Because she forgot about some blue fire?" Draco asks. Harry sighs and downs the rest of his beer. He pushes back from the table and stands up.
"Would anyone like another?" he asks, gesturing at their drinks.
"Go on then," Pansy says. Harry turns to Draco and he nods. Harry stalks off to the bar. Pansy turns her attention to Draco.
"So, you and Potter then?" she asks quietly. Draco can't keep the smile off of his face as he nods.
"Yes," he says, in case the nodding wasn't clear.
"Are you happy?" This is not the question Draco had been expecting, but he looks her in the eye and nods again. "Has this been coming for a while?" Her right eyebrow is raised and there is a small smirk on her face.
"Maybe," he admits.
"Circe, Draco, it's probably not a good idea," Pansy says. "But then, Potter's always fought harder for the people he loves, so maybe it's not a terrible one."
"I tried not to fall in love with him," Draco says. This is only partly a lie. He did try not to feel the way that he does, but if he's honest, he probably could have tried harder.
"Draco, darling," Pansy says, tipping back the rest of her gin and tonic. "We all know you've been obsessed with him forever. I suppose it was only a matter of time. But we'll talk more on this later." Draco frowns and Pansy jerks her chin towards the bar from whence Harry is now carrying three drinks. Draco jumps up to help him.
"Where were we?" Draco asks once they are settled again.
"There's something wrong with Hermione," Harry says.
"Because of the flames."
"It's not just that," Harry says with a sigh. "It's a lot of little things too." He twists his mouth in irritation. "Like this afternoon, when we went to see the Swinns." Pansy leans forward to listen. "Everything was fine inside - nothing out of the ordinary. Standard dealing with the family situation. But when we got confirmation from you, Pansy, that Winola really had been kidnapped, I suggested we go back and let the parents know. But Hermione brushed it off - said that since the Swinns had said they hadn't heard anything, there was no point in bothering them."
"That's not protocol," Pansy says immediately.
"I know that, but she's our boss. What she says goes."
"Bullshit, you should have called her on it."
"Look Major, we don't all have your credentials," Harry snaps.
"But you're the bloody Boy-Who-Lived," Pansy protests. "You have plenty of sway."
"That doesn't mean anything to Hermione. She always likes to remind me that I'm not special."
"Charming." Pansy rolls her eyes.
"Well," Harry says with a self effacing grin. "I'm not."
"Oh, bullshit." This time it's Draco that says it. Harry turns his head and stares at him. "What? I saw you at the Luczkowski dinner. You're bloody amazing." Harry smiles softly at this.
"I didn't used to be that good," he says, staring down at his hands. "I got better after Hermione pointed out I was only getting by on my laurels."
"Fine, fine," Pansy says. "So you didn't feel like you could call Granger out on protocol. I get it. Moving along. If there is something wrong with her, what do we do about it?"
"I guess first we have to figure out what exactly is wrong," Harry says. "Is she being threatened to act a certain way, or?" He lets the last word hang.
"It sounds to me like you think she's been kidnapped," says Pansy.
"Hang on," Draco says. "I know I'm still new to this, but I think you're hearing hoofbeats and assuming unicorns, when in actuality they're just horses."
"Beg pardon?"
"You think it's this crazy thing, with kidnapping and what have you, when a more commonplace explanation is much more likely. Maybe Granger is having a bad day. Maybe she's got other things going on in her life that are distracting her. Maybe, dear Merlin, she's human and she forgot one thing."
"Maybe," Harry allows.
"I'm not saying we shouldn't look into it," Draco says.
"We should," Pansy says quickly.
"But I think this whole Simmy-whatsit conspiracy has you two rather paranoid."
"No one's explained it to you yet, have they?" Pansy asks.
"No, you all fucked off to Scotland or Mayfair after our meeting." Draco tries not to sound too bitter. He really tries.
"That's another thing that's off," Harry says, sitting up ramrod straight. "Hermione didn't want to use the Reliquary today."
"Perhaps she doesn't want to put me in danger?" Draco suggests.
"What would have been dangerous about an empty house?"
"Fair point."
"Where, might I add, you found an earring," Pansy says. Draco nods once. He stares at a knot in the wood of the table and chews on his lower lip.
"Right," Draco says after a minute's long silence. "So then the working theory is that Hermione's been kidnapped?"
"We know they're behind at least one kidnapping," Pansy says. "Thanks to you." She grabs the end of her straw between her teeth and then takes a long sip of her drink. "What's to say they're not behind another?"
"Fuck."
"Indeed."
"So is anyone going to fill me in on the whole Simurgh Society thing?" Draco asks. Pansy sighs.
"I can," Harry says. "Once we're home."
"I assume we're going to yours?" Draco leans closer to Harry and lowers his voice. Not that it matters. Pansy knows.
"I figured we would, yeah."
"Hi," Pansy says. "Still here."
"Yes, yes," Harry says. "Back to Hermione."
"Quite."
"I'll talk to Ron tomorrow - see if anything's seemed amiss."
"I would offer to talk to other people at the Ministry, but I don't know how much good it would do," Pansy says.
"And," Draco says. "We should probably also try to find Winola Swinn?"
"Of course," Pansy says. She puts a hand up to her forehead. "Fuck me. There's a lot going on. Swinn. Granger. The bloody Simurgh Society." She pauses, then repeats "Simurgh Society," and makes a face.
"Sim Soc?" Draco suggests with a smirk.
"Yes," Pansy says. "Much better."
"But if we think Hermione has been compromised, should we share the earring with her?" Harry asks, bringing the conversation back to the more serious things at hand. Pansy sighs.
"It's tricky," she says. "We should report it because she's our boss, but if she has been compromised, then they will know that we know that they're behind it." She reaches up and massages the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb. "You know who we should tell?" They stare at her. "McLaggen. In fact, we should do that right now."
"Really?" Draco whines. "Now?" He looks at his watch. It's gone nine.
"Yes, Draco. The safety of the country is at stake."
"Oh, fuck the country," Draco grumbles into his beer. Pansy ignores him and taps out a message to McLaggen on her watch.
…
"Well this is all a bit shit, isn't it?" McLaggen says once they've brought him up to speed. Or rather, once Pansy has brought him up to speed as Harry and Draco had both spent the time glowering at him over fresh pints of beer.
"You don't say," Harry says. He knows he should be more polite. He knows they're a team. But it's McLaggen. And he's still not over their conversation from this morning. Circe, was that only this morning?
"So the Simurgh Society-"
"-Sim Soc," Draco interjects.
"So the Sim Soc kidnapped Swinn and you think they might have also kidnapped Hermione and replaced her with one of their own? Which means we can't tell Hermione that we think the Sim Soc took Swinn. Did I get that all?"
"Yes," Draco says in a bored tone.
"So we have to have a covert investigation into a thing we're already investigating?"
"Yes."
"Ooh, I love a good mission inside of a mission." Harry fights to keep his face impassive as McLaggen actually rubs his hands together in glee as he speaks. What a tosser.
"Why is he here again?" Draco asks and Harry could kiss him. Thank god for Draco Malfoy and his impudence.
"He's the one who told us about the Sim Soc," Pansy says.
"And we have considered that he might have made everything up to be part of something exciting?"
"Draco." Pansy lays both of her hands flat on the table and stares at Draco. "You sparked on that earring."
"Oh, shit. Yeah, I did. Didn't I?" She nods. "Fine. But how do we know he's not a part of it?"
"How dare-" McLaggen starts to get up.
"-Sit down McLaggen," Harry snaps. "Draco has a point."
"How many fucking Unbreakable Vows do I have to swear?" McLaggen asks. He crosses his arms and slumps back in his chair.
"Potter, I can vouch for him," Pansy says. Harry twists his mouth to the side in irritation and leans back in his own chair, a mirror image of McLaggen.
"So the Reliquary," McLaggen says after a long enough pause has gone by. "Does it tell you if someone has a particular affiliation?"
"Come again?"
"Would it be able to tell you if someone was in the Simurgh Society?"
"If the information has been reported somewhere, and that information has been fed back the Reliquary, it might. But if they're a secret society within the Ministry, I doubt the Ministry's reporting on them."
"Oh." McLaggen sounds rather put out.
"Quite." They sit in silence for a while after this, all of them sipping at their drinks.
"But someone must have a list of their members," Pansy says suddenly. "And if it's kept in the Ministry, there's a chance it could have been accidentally sent to the Reliquary."
"So, what? I should just walk around the Ministry and look at people?" Draco asks. From his tone, it is clear that he is being sarcastic, but McLaggen perks up at this suggestion.
"Um," he says. "Yes actually." Draco flicks his eyes over to McLaggen and narrows them. McLaggen appears oblivious to Draco's irritation.
"On what pretext?" Draco asks. McLaggen opens his mouth, pauses, and then closes it again, his shoulders slumping.
"I don't know," he admits. He frowns and takes a large sip of his whiskey soda water. They lapse back into a silence that's broken only by the tinny sounds of Christmas music that is being piped throughout the pub.
Harry swears they are playing Christmas music earlier and earlier these days. But that's not right. It's only nine days until Christmas. Of course they would be playing Christmas music now. In fact, he realizes as he looks around the other tables in the pub, they're even serving mince pies.
"Christmas," he says.
"Come again?" Draco asks.
"It's almost Christmas. Which means we can walk through the Ministry wishing everyone a Happy Christmas," Harry says.
"Do you normally do that?"
"No?"
"We could carol around the different departments," Pansy suggests.
"Brilliant." This is McLaggen. "We can dress Malfoy up as Father Christmas to disguise him!"
"He's not too pointy to be Father Christmas?"
"Eh, pad him out with pillows."
"Do I get a say in this?" Draco asks.
"No," Pansy and McLaggen say in unison. They put their heads together and start planning the details. Draco turns to Harry with a resigned expression on his face.
…
"So, Potter," Draco says as they cross the foyer of Harry's house and make for the stairs. "Have you been good this year?" It is now nearing midnight. The four of them had spent another hour or so discussing their plan to go caroling around the Ministry and as the alcohol had continued to flow, the idea had morphed into something bizarre and extravagant. Poor Bertie was going to have to work overtime on their costumes. But Harry and Draco are home now, having left Pansy and McLaggen still plotting in the Sporting Page.
"I don't know," Harry says, turning his head to look at Draco. "Do you think I should be on the naughty or nice list?" Draco bites his lower lip and smirks.
"Definitely naughty."
"Oh no," Harry says. He cups his face in his hands. "I do hope you don't have to punish me." Draco's smirk, if anything, grows wider. Then he turns serious for a moment.
"Do you want me to?" he asks.
"Do I want you to do naughty, naughty things to me in bed?" Harry asks, his face the mask of innocence. "Maybe." He grins and runs up the rest of the stairs. Draco follows, smirking.
…
"Last call for alcohol," the barman calls. Pansy looks over at him in surprise.
"It's that late already?" she asks. McLaggen looks at his watch.
"Guess so."
"We should probably finish these and go." She indicates their half empty glasses.
"You don't want one more?"
"McLaggen, it's a Tuesday," Pansy says, rolling her eyes at him. He frowns at her. "What? Did you forget that we have work tomorrow morning?"
"Why do you always call me McLaggen?" he blurts out.
"We're coworkers."
"But you call Potter by his first name."
"That's different," Pansy splutters.
"Is it?"
"Harry and I are friends," she says.
"And we're not friends?" McLaggen asks.
"Do you think we're friends?" He looks taken aback by the question. His mouth falls open and Pansy thinks back to two weeks ago when he had kissed her and thinks that it's perhaps the closest they've come to being friends.
"I thought we were getting there," he says.
"Yeah, well, it takes a lot more than two weeks of not being a dick to me to get into the friend category." McLaggen makes a face.
"What if I don't want to be in the friend zone?" he asks with a smirk and Pansy can't believe he just fucking said that. She glares at him as she picks up her drink and downs the rest of it.
"The so called friend zone is a bullshit conceit aimed at making women feel like they owe men sex and I, for one, will not stand for it." She stands up, pushing her chair back and makes to leave, but McLaggen grabs her arm.
"Pansy, wait," he says. "I'm sorry. It was meant to be flirtatious and it came out wrong. I didn't mean to be a dick." He ducks his head and stares at the table. Pansy sighs. She sits back down again.
"It's ok," she says. "It's late and we've had a bit to drink. I shouldn't have bitten your head off like that."
"Eh," McLaggen says, still not looking up. "You might have been right to. I shouldn't have said that." Pansy stares at the top of his head for a moment before she reaches out and takes Cormac's hand. He looks up.
"Friends?" she asks and he nods.
"At least for now," he says. He gives her a pronounced wink, sticks his tongue out and then puts his hands up to protect his head as she laughs and starts slapping him.
