Realizing the Game

"Malfoy."

Draco jumped, startled, and looked up to see Blaise standing in front of him. He blinked, confused for a moment about what seemed different since the last time he'd looked up from his essay.

It was dark outside, he realized. How long had he been sitting in the library? He glanced at his watch; it was well past supper, nearly ten. His stomach growled.

"Zabini," he replied at long last, nodding up at the tall boy. Blaise took this as an invitation to sit down across from him.

"Some of the lads were just wondering when Quidditch is starting up again," he said.

Draco shrugged. "Hadn't thought about it yet. Next match isn't until March anyway."

"Right."

Draco knew this couldn't be the only reason Blaise had searched the entire library for him, so he waited, taking the moment of silence to continue writing his essay on the properties of the Draught of Living Death and the controversial debate in using it in common medicine practices. Kids' stuff, really, he thought.

"Malfoy…"

"Just spit it out, Zabini," Draco said. He glanced up to see Blaise looking hesitant.

"Go on," he urged.

"I was just wondering…if you're okay."

Draco frowned and stopped writing. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously. Part of him wondered if he should feel insulted.

Blaise grimaced. "I just mean… I know it's been a rough couple years for you, and what with your father being in Azkaban" – Draco's jaw twitched involuntarily – "well I wanted to make sure you're alright I guess."

"I'm fine," Draco said, shrugging slightly.

"Really? Because I haven't seen you eat anything in a week," Blaise countered, raising his eyebrows. "And you've been spending a lot of time hidden away in bed the last couple months."

"Zabini, honestly. I'm fine. Besides, it's not your place to worry about me," Draco said, somewhat annoyed. Blaise frowned.

"I'm just trying to be a friend," he said.

I don't have any friends, Draco wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Blaise looked sincere, truly concerned. A year ago, Draco would have scorned him, calling him soft and a pansy. But a lot had changed in the last year. He offered a tentative smile – it came out more like a wince.

"Thanks," he managed. "Really."

"Yeah, mate," Blaise said agreeably. "I just wanted to make sure."

"I'm good. I'm-" but whatever Draco was going to say was instantly driven from his mind as a particular brunette rounded the end of the bookshelves. She didn't notice him, looking intent on her mission to get wherever she was headed, and seconds later she wandered off between the stacks.

As she disappeared, Blaise glanced around confused, having just missed her appearance. Draco was still staring at the spot where the shelves had blocked his view.

"Malfoy?"

"Sorry," he said quickly, snapping back to the conversation. "What was I saying?"

Blaise raised one eyebrow at him. "You were feeding me some more bull about being perfectly fine," he said.

"I'm fine," Draco repeated. "But, I have to go. I'll see you around, yeah?" And he quickly gathered his things and hurried after the girl.

Blaise shook his head as he walked off. "Don't know why I bother," he muttered.

Draco walked between the stacks, looking this way and that for a flash of brown hair. He wandered up and down row after row of books, and was just about to give up when a familiar voice called out softly, "Are you following me?"

Draco whirled to see her behind him, holding a book and looking thoroughly amused.

"No," he lied, scoffing unconvincingly. "Why would I do something like that?"

She shrugged. "You tell me."

"What're you studying?" he asked instead, nodding at the large book in the crook of her arm.

She glanced at the book. "'The Impact of 20th Century Muggle Technology on Modern Wizarding Life'," she read. "What a mouthful."

"You take Muggle Studies?" Draco asked, unable to keep the condescending tone out of his voice as his lip curled into a sneer. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's fascinating," she said coldly. It took all of Draco's willpower not to laugh.

"If you say so."

"Muggles have lived successfully without magic for centuries," she countered. "They have electricity and cooling and heating systems and computers and telephones…their communication system is much more refined than ours is. Their transportation modes are more practical than all of ours except Apparition, even if they're not faster. They're much more adaptive than wizards are, and they're constantly inventing new technologies and new ways of doing things." She looked annoyed that he would even question this.

Draco doubted very much that Muggle technology was as interesting as she claimed, but he let it slide. "If you say so," he repeated, laughing slightly. Her chin jerked up defensively.

"I have a paper to write. See you later, Malfoy." And as quick as that she was gone. Draco shook his head after her, amused.

[]-[]-[]

Draco lay in his bed staring up at the canopy above him in the murky green light of the lanterns overhead. The dorms were never brightly lit and always cold and rather damp, what with being in such close proximity to the lake. He'd never had a problem with that before; indeed he'd grown to rather like it.

The thing about the dungeons was that one never knew exactly what time of day it was. He could glance at his watch and not know if it was two in the afternoon or two in the morning. That had always bothered him when he was younger. Now he kind of relished it. He could turn the lamps off and lie in the impenetrable darkness no matter what the hour; he doubted very much any of the other houses' dormitories could do that, except perhaps the Hufflepuffs'.

As he lay there, his mind wandered until he was dozing off with thoughts of that odd girl running through is head. Surely he knew her somehow.

"People denounced my family all throughout the war. They called us cowards, blood-traitors, criminals against our own race." Her words echoed through his sleepy mind. "They threatened my father, my mother, my sister."

My sister. My sister. Sister…

"Who are you hiding from?" "My sister. I stole her jumper."

"My sister has told me about the way you talk to your team."

"Maybe I expect too much from a Slytherin. You think I would have learned after all these years of dealing with my sister."

"You know, I'm starting to think you should have been in Slytherin." "So I've heard."

Who even had sisters? He couldn't think of anyone. Pansy was an only child. Daphne Greengrass had a sister, but she wasn't…she was...

Draco's eyes flew open. He stared straight ahead, thinking hard. Daphne Greengrass had a sister. Had he ever met her? Surely he must have. Their families had probably mingled at countless events.

The Greengrasses had certainly been ridiculed for their decision to stay out of the war. The Dark Lord had been most displeased with Matthias Greengrass, going so far as to threaten his family's lives. Daphne hadn't even returned to Hogwarts last year.

Daphne Greengrass's sister was a Ravenclaw, wasn't she? But what was her name?

And then, Why do I care? Draco was surprised by this thought. Why did he care? What did some snotty sixth-year Ravenclaw mean to him anyway? Why was he so preoccupied with her?

She didn't matter. She was just another student in another house in this giant castle. She was toying with him, he realized. This game was entertaining for her, stringing him along like some fancying sod. He didn't fancy her. He didn't care one bit for her.

Whatever-her-name-was Greengrass could piss off. Draco Malfoy wanted nothing to do with her. He was suddenly furious with himself for wasting all this time and energy thinking about her, buying into her stupid little guessing game. He hadn't come back to Hogwarts to endure a year's worth of ridicule and suffering just to be wound up by some stupid sixteen-year-old girl.

If he hadn't not cared so much, he would have gone looking for her right then just to tell her to her face that he was through with her. He never wanted to see her stupid smirk again.

So I probably wrote three different versions of this before finally deciding on one. I realized that Draco was starting to go soft, and I can't have that happening. Draco is still damaged and bitter and still very much the spoiled brat he's always been. He wants to change, but he hasn't actually gotten around to the changing bit yet, so I had to take that into account. The original draft of this was much too light-hearted and sweet - the exchanges between him and Zabini and Astoria were much less hostile, but it was too much progress too soon. So we have angry Draco instead. I quite like writing him.

Review if you liked it. Review if you didn't. Review if you like toast. Just review.