Draco Malfoy looked at the paper, before discretely coverning exactly what he was reading (Merlin help him if anyone noticed he was reading anything about house elves!) with a deliberate spread of Quiddich scores. Pansy had outdone herself this time, Draco thought with a straight face, though inside he was grinning. Her article was a work of genius. There was the first level, on which the avuncular raconteur relayed his wife's experience in a fitting room. Although she could not see the back of her dress, she was convinced that it needed to be pulled down another three inches - her house elf (with a proper view of her backside), felt otherwise, but of course she refused to listen. The story ended with public ridicule and the punishment of the house elf for something that wasn't really her fault. Pansy had ended the tale with a "Shouldn't the one responsible be punished? Or does that just add to the ridiculousness of the event?"
Draco loved Pansy's sense of humor. It was a naked appeal to people's high esteem of themselves, that they should recognize their own errors and not blame the people who tried to help them. There might even have been a small, indirect "listen to those who have a better vantage than you, they offer their unique insights."
The second level, of course, was to actively coerce Purebloods into empathizing with a house elf. Who hadn't, at one point or another, tried to tell someone too proud to take advice? And the kisser on that was the punishment at the end - actively ridiculing those (like Draco's own father last year) who had punished someone who did not deserve it. We all know what you're trying to do, and it doesn't work. was the comment, and it was brilliant, sparkling with the light of dozens of emeralds.
The third level was written for Pansy's own amusement, and her few select friends (her father had long forbidden her discussion of anything remotely consequential, so it was her habit and custom to speak in code). It was a discussion of Continental borders, disguised as a discussion of hemlines. It said a lot about France's unwillingness to listen to Belgium's wise counsel during the Napoleonic era, and counseled that the smaller states might put a premium on safety rather than tactical superiority.
Truly, it was a masterwork.
Draco finished the last of his toast, and started to fold up the paper, when, across from him, Crabbe and Goyle started 'reminiscing.' Compelled to chime in, Draco did so with well-practiced (and faked) good humor, ending the entire conversation shortly with a "What do you say we take on Potty later today? Show him what a disrespectful bastard he is." Greg and Vince nodded enthusiastically, and Draco Malfoy left the room with short, sharp strides. His mind was scrambling for what exactly to do - what exactly to say. Because, after all, the threats were going to be the easy, predictable part. Predictable! That was it, Draco thought with an inward grin. Let's roll with that!
At lunchtime (his morning classes being uneventful, save for Granger looking a bit more helter-skelter, which also seemed to be normalizing. every day, another quarter inch more frazzled). As he came in, he saw Luna Lovegood sitting at the Gryffindor table. She was announcing, to the table at large, "Yesterday, I made friends with an invisible dragon."
Granger sighed, responding as if she'd said this same thing multiple times (maybe she had), "Luna, Dragons don't turn invisible."
"Well, this one was." Luna said airly.
[a/n: everyone wants to do something with the Slytherin boys. Well, Pansy's a good deal brighter than she lets on. Leave a review, it's still Wednesday.]