Footsie

Chapter Nine

"Look at that!" Blaise smiled as Draco stepped onto the balcony. She patted the bench beside her and hugged him when he sat down. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Draco crossed his arms primly across his chest and sniffed, "Excruciating." Blaise laughed and smacked his arm and Draco smiled back.

Harry took the open seat beside Ron while Ron watched the cousins interact. Blaise had told him over and over again that she looked a lot like the blond but it was only now that Ron could see the startling resemblance.

For one thing, they smiled the same way. No matter how quickly it happens, the smile starts out as a smirk that gradually grows into the full blown grin the two were sporting now. Their lips were on the thin side although Blaise's had a feminine plumpness. They stretched out over the same set of pearly whites. They both had high cheekbones and thin noses that naturally stuck up to Ron's amusement. Cobalt and slate eyes sat in the same almond shape. Their hair completely differed though. Blaise had thick, black corkscrew curls while Draco had fine, silvery platinum blond hair, no doubt kept up with the use of his wide collection of hair products. Speaking of Malfoy's stuff…

"How did this happen? Last time I checked, Malfoy was still bitching-,"

"I don't 'bitch,' Weasel," Draco cut off sharply.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Fine. Harping about-,"

"I don't 'harp' either."

"Critiquing incessantly?" Blaise supplied.

". . . I can live with that."

"Alright! Malfoy was 'critiquing incessantly' last time I checked. What happened?" Ron looked at Harry curiously.

Harry shook his head and leaned back on the bench. "It happened so suddenly. All I did was apologize and then boom!"

Blaise rose an eyebrow. "Must have been some apology."

"Not really," Draco disputed. "Potter shouted at me."

"Yeah, it was more out of anger and frustration then sincere regret-,"

"Hem-hem."

Harry blinked at Draco for a moment. The cough was eerily reminiscent of a certain Inquisitor who plagued Hogwarts last year. Last year, the year that Sirius- Harry shook the thought out of his head. It then occurred to him why Draco had coughed in the first place. "I really did mean it, Malfoy. I was going to lose my mind. I didn't think it was possible to care that much about toothpaste-,"

Draco scoffed, "It wasn't about the toothpaste!" Blaise, Ron, and Harry gave Draco a look. "It wasn't just about the toothpaste," He amended. "I wanted you to realized that just because you're The Boy Who Lived, doesn't mean you're entitled to things-,"

"I don't feel entitled to things!"

"Oh, whatever Potter. I know those Muggles you live with probably spoiled you rotten but don't expect that shit all the time."

Harry sat forward in his chair and yelled, "Malfoy, you don't know the first thing about me. It was an honest mistake. It's school toothpaste. Your name's not on it-,"

"Actually I did-,"

"What are you?!"

Draco blinked in confusion, "A wizard, a human being, a boy, a good looking boy, come to think of it-,"

"Unbelievable!"

"Yes, that too."

Harry was about to hex him quiet when he noticed the corner of Draco's lips were quirked up.

"Are you joking with me?" He asked incredulously.

Draco shrugged, "I suppose I am. That's what friends do, is it not?"

"This is crazy." Harry looked at Ron. "This is absolutely crazy. It doesn't feel real."

Ron nodded, "I felt the same way! It's like a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. You're holding a bean that you know is vomit. You can feel it in your gut and then you taste it and you're pleasantly surprised because it's not vomit. It's burnt marshmallow."

"Did you just equate us to vomit jelly beans?" Blaise sputtered indignantly, "And what's with the burnt marshmallow? Why do we have to be burnt? Why couldn't we be toasted or just regular marshmallows? What are you trying to say?" She glared at Ron.

Harry opened his mouth to defend Ron but Ron stopped him. "She's joking," he explained. Sure enough, Blaise broke into a smile and giggled. Harry gave an answering smile back and then sighed.

"I wish Mione was out here."

"Me too," Blaise murmured. "I meant Pansy," She elaborated at Harry and Ron's strange looks. "Not that I don't hope Granger gets out-,"

Ron waved her off in understanding.

"Maybe if we leave them in there by themselves more often, they'll become friends," Harry said, hopefully.

Draco shook his head. "It's not going to happen, Potter."

"Why is Parkinson so stubborn?"

"It's not that she's stubborn. She just doesn't like Granger. Pansy's going to become friends with one of you before she even goes near her."

"But why? If this is about what Hermione said our first day here, then that's ridiculous. Parkinson has said worse things to Hermione," Ron pointed out.

Draco shrugged in turn, "Never said she was reasonable. She's probably on the total opposite side of the room painting or sketching."

Ron got up from his seat and peeked inside. He turned back around, grinning, "Hermione's studying at the table and she's at the sofas sketching."

"I told you."

Harry furrowed his brow. "That's funny. When we came out here, they were both at the table. I wonder what happened."

* * *

Hermione watched Harry and then Draco join Blaise and Ron on the balcony. She glanced back at the door nervously. She and Pansy were the only ones who hadn't befriended a person of the opposite house. She felt the same sinking sensation she got in the pit of her stomach whenever she was the last person to complete an exam. She turned to Pansy with high hopes. "How about we-,"

"Go to hell."

* * *

"Knowing Pansy, probably nothing. She's got a temper. Anything can set her off."

"Like say . . . toothpaste?"

"…You know, you're lucky you've apologized Potter because, I assure you, your pathetic attempts at humor would not have won me over."

* * *

The four of them stayed outside for awhile longer. In this time, one thing was decided: They were not going to let on that they were getting along until all six of them were friends with each other. If they were going to encourage inter-House relationships, then they had to be a united front against opposition from the rest of school.

The professors came around with approving looks at the four of them. Professor McGonagall gave them warm smiles, Professor Dumbledore gave them lemon drops and Professor Dessen gave them another round of Butterbeer. Professor grunted at the four open locks, which they took to mean he also approved. As time went on, these visits became less frequent.

The four of them made a point to spend more time in their quarters rather than the balcony. If Pansy and Hermione were going to be friends with someone, it would have to be one of them, because Pansy was not budging.

Draco and Blaise tried to talk to Hermione at dinner but the conversations were forced and fell flat each time. Harry and Ron attempted to engage Pansy in conversations, too but they were only met with cold stares.

Weeks past. They were now at the end of September and to the boys' horror, the Slytherin/Gryffindor Quidditch match was on. Ron joined Harry and Draco on the balcony who were desperately trying to catch snippets of the game. They don't know how the Professors managed it, but they dampened the sound of Luna Lovegood's announcing and amplified the sounds of the crowd. All they could hear were cheers and groans.

"I despise them. I absolutely despise them," Draco declared.

Harry yelled, "This is so unfair! We should be allowed to see a game, right? I mean, we've made friends!" Draco nodded in agreement.

A cheer erupted. Ron strained his neck trying to get a glimpse of the field. "Did we score? I think we scored-,"

Draco rolled his eyes. "How would you know, Weasley? Maybe Slytherin scored."

Harry snorted, "Doubt it. Your Chasers have butterfingers."

Draco blinked at him. "That is utterly absurd. I doubt Muggle candy has any bearing on our Chaser's ability to score."

"It's a saying, Malfoy. It means they drop the Quaffle a lot."

Draco pointed his finger, indignantly. "I resent that."

Harry smiled to himself. Draco and Ron weren't friends yet but the two had unknowingly picked up habits from the other, being so much in the other's company. During dinner the other day, the redhead had called something "utterly absurd" and then just blinked at Harry when he snorted his pumpkin juice.

Blaise rolled her eyes. "Would you guys stop? You can't see anything anyways and I'm getting bored."

Draco whipped around and scoffed, "Oh! Now you know how I feel when you and Pansy decided to go on a tangent about your uterus and how it bleeds!"

"We told you that you are more than welcome to talk about erections if that will make you feel better-,"

"It's not the same and you know it!" Draco whipped back around, ignoring the snickers from Ron and Harry. One thing the two of them have learned from the other trio was that they were perfectly comfortable discussing sex amongst each other. Harry and Ron never talked about morning woods with each other and they would never dream of mentioning it in front of Hermione. The Slytherins however, held no such qualms.

There was an extra loud groan that erupted from the stands and then a few minutes later, they could see people returning to the castle.

Harry peered down at the large number of gloomy faces. "Wait . . . did we lose?"

"Shut up!" Blaise exclaimed. She joined the boys and studied the faces down below.

Draco's face lit up. "They did! They did! Look at the dejected looks on everyone's faces!"

Ron shook his head, "There's no way . . ." he trailed off as he saw a sea of people in green, celebrating.

"We won! We won! We won!" Draco and Blaise grabbed each other, cheering and jumping up and down.

Ron argued, "Only because Harry's not playing."

Draco scowled at Ron. "Don't be such a Dementor, Weasley. Besides, losing builds character."

Ron was just about to reply that Slytherins must have a heap load of character when Blaise, who was still victory dancing, landed on his foot.

"Blaise! My toe!" Ron placed his foot on the railing and alternated rubbing and inspecting it.

Blaise stared at him, wide eyed, startled that he called her by her name. "What?"

"My foot!" He repeated. He rubbed it and his bottom lip jutted out on its own accord. "I think it's broken."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You are such an infant. It's not even bruised-,"

"Yes, it is! Look it!"

Blaise and Draco peered at his foot and saw nothing wrong, as they had thought. His pinky was red but he'd survive. Their gazes lingered on the Gryffindor's limb.

"Wow," Blaise said.

"See!"

"She is not talking about your uninjured foot, Weasley."

"Well, what is it?"

"You have nice feet," Draco observed.

Ron and Harry looked at Draco. "What?" they asked.

"Your feet," Draco pointed at them. "They're nice."

Ron slowly put his foot down and looked at the Slytherins warily. "Okay… I'm gonna find socks now." And with that, he hurried inside.

Harry looked at Draco oddly, "Do you like feet or something?"

Draco laughed, "Merlin, no." He looked at Blaise and smirked, "But I know someone who does."

* * *

"What the…"

It was Sunday morning the next day and Ron had just gotten out of the shower. He went to his trunk to find socks but he couldn't find a single pair.

"Harry! Can I borrow some socks?"

"Sure." Harry called and then glared at Draco who had muttered, "That's brave," under his breath.

"Thanks," he went to Harry's trunk and started digging around.

"What happened to yours?"

"I have no clue! I swear, it's like the House Elves came in the night and stole them," Ron answered, shifting past the Invisibility Cloak and pointedly ignoring Hermione's reproachful glare. "I don't see any in your trunk either!"

Harry glanced over at Draco who was sitting in the couch across from him, brushing Pansy's hair, He was pretty sure Draco had something to do with the missing socks, especially after Draco's eyes flashed over to Harry above Pansy's head. He decided he wouldn't say anything about his suspicion… yet. "Ron, just forget it. We're not going anywhere anyway."

Ron stomped over to the armchair between the two couches and huffed, " I can't believe this. Are they doing wash or something?"

Harry shrugged and Ron sighed, putting his feet on the coffee table. Pansy huffed and glared up at Ron and was about to shove his feet off the coffee table and out of her face when she saw them.

"Oh my goodness!" She gasped. She pulled away from Draco to kneel before the feet. Pansy stared in awe. "They are perfect!"

Ron looked at her strangely and made to put his feet on the ground when her hand flashed across the table and grabbed him by the ankle with surprising strength for her petite frame. She stared at him, wide eyed. "Don't put them away!"

Ron could have easily wrenched his feet from her grip but he was frozen with shock at her reaction. Pansy was now sitting on the table with his feet in her lap. "May I touch them?" She implored. Ron nodded dumbly as Pansy ran a manicured nail from the bottom of his heel to the top of his big toe. He flailed his foot reflexively. She smiled, "You're ticklish." She didn't repeat the action. Instead, she rubbed his heel and emitted another gasp. "They are so soft…like a baby's bottom."

He looked at her quizzically. "What's wrong with you? They're just feet-,"

She gave him a reprimanding slap on his calf. "Don't say that! They are absolutely gorgeous. They are so soft and smooth and you have a high arch." She ran her nail over it, which caused Ron to flex it again. "Regardes! You have an arch on the outside of your foot, too. I love when people have that double arch."

Harry had been looking on at the scene equally shocked and appalled. Her voice held so much- too much reverence for a pair of feet. "What's wrong with you?!" He echoed.

Draco explained, "Pansy has a foot fetish."

Pansy scoffed, "I do not!"

Blaise called from her seat at the table, "Would you lick whipped cream off his feet?"

"Well-,"

"Fetish," Blaise and Draco declared.

"You didn't let me finish!"

"Pansy that should have been a sound, 'no!'" Draco countered. "You entertained the thought. If we had let you finished, you would have invited the thought over for tea."

"That's not true-,"

"Fetish," Blaise dismissed.

She glared at them. "No, I don't!" She looked back at Ron softly, "I don't."

Ron held his hands up in surrender. "I believe you."

"They are so big!"

"Pansy…" Draco warned.

"Do you have a big cock?"

"Pansy!" Blaise admonished.

Ron blushed, "What?"

"Aww, you're blushing! Are you a virgin?"

Ron's face and neck flushed the same color as his ears. "What?" He repeated.

"You are! Wow, a blushing virgin . . . don't be shy! Blaise hasn't done anything either."

Blaise sputtered, "Pansy!"

"May I draw them?" Pansy opened her angel blue eyes wide and pouted her lips.

Ron looked reluctant, "I guess . . ."

Pansy ran to get her sketchbook and started drawing. Her quick, sure strokes were all you could hear in the room. She finished about ten minutes later and handed the book over to Ron before summoning body lotion.

Ron stared at the sketch with surprise, "These are really-," he stopped and eyed the bottle in the Slytherin's hands. "What are you doing?"

"Shh, just let it happen," She said, simply. She started rubbing the lotion on his feet and started working her hands on them. Pansy was a nice girl. She just had no concept of boundaries whatsoever. Ron squirmed at the girl's ministrations. He really was ticklish. He took his mind off the sensations by flipping though her sketchbook. Pansy sketched still life like her wand or the couches surrounding the fire in the Common Room. She also sketched people- Blaise while she's doing homework or Draco reading a book. Whatever the style of the picture, one thing was for sure.

"These are really good, Parkinson."

Pansy looked up from his feet and smiled, "Thank you."

Light fled the room. The locks Pansy and Ron and Ron and Pansy were now open.