A/N: Chapter 19 is short, so I'll post it on Tuesday. Chapter 20 will appear next Friday, on normal schedule.

In his three years at Hogwarts, Harry had attended numerous celebrations in the Slytherin common room: Halloween parties, quidditch victory parties, birthday parties… and the party after winning the quidditch cup left them all behind. Pansy's resources, combined with the euphoria of defeating Gryffindor for the quidditch cup, meant that the party was louder and larger than any party that any student could remember.

Music was pounding in the background, and Pucey was dancing atop a table in the center of the room. Flint and Bletchley were sitting on a couch, making eyes at a pair of attractive seventh-year girls. Or maybe the girls were making eyes at Flint and Bletchley; Harry wasn't sure, but there seemed to be a lot eye-making.

Harry had gathered a group of younger Slytherins and was telling them about how he had distracted Katie Bell at the end of the match by inviting her to Hogsmeade. Harry didn't notice when Pansy walked up behind him.

"Harry Potter. Please tell me that you are joking."

Harry turned and smiled broadly at Pansy. "And what if I'm not? Are you mad that I invited a Gryffindor to Hogsmeade, or mad that I didn't invite you?"

"Don't tease, Harry. It's my birthday!" Pansy giggled and grabbed Harry's arm. "You're only supposed to say nice things to me."

"Which one is it? I'm only supposed to say nice things to you? Or I'm only supposed to say nice things to you?"

"Yes." Pansy nodded and sat down next to Harry, slipping her arm through his. She leaned her head on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry, what happened when you went under the bleachers?" asked a first year girl with brown hair. Harry turned back to the small crowd he had been talking to. They were still waiting expectantly. The first year girl was named Sarah Something-Or-Other… Harry couldn't quire remember. It was probably alliterative, though.

Before Harry could speak, a hand dropped onto his other shoulder. Harry turned and saw that Theo Nott was standing behind him, with Blaise Zabini. "Buzz off, firsties. Harry needs to do some real celebrating."

Sarah and the rest of the first years scattered immediately.

"Why do you have to be such an arse, Theo?" asked Pansy, looking up from Harry's shoulder.

"Our man is a hero! He doesn't need to be wasting time with those twerps." Theo nodded his head toward a crowd of older students, which included Montague and Warrington. "Come on, Harry. Those two are mangling the account of your catch. You have to go set the record straight."

Harry glanced at Pansy. She looked up at him from his shoulder.

"Just when I thought I had you all to myself," Pansy said. She gave Harry a tiny smile.
"Come on, Harry. Let's go show you to the rest of the house."

Harry allowed Theo and Blaise to lead him toward a group of older students. Pansy walked close by Harry's side. Despite the noise and sound of the party, Harry found his attention focused almost entirely on his arm and hand, which kept bumping against Pansy's as they walked. It couldn't be an accident; Harry had walked next to Pansy plenty of times, and she was never clumsy. The hair rose on the back of Harry's neck. With each little bump, Harry felt… something less than a jolt, but more than a tingle… whatever it was, it felt pretty nice.

Unless he was misinterpreting things. Harry felt a sudden surge of self-doubt. If Harry tried to hold Pansy's hand, and bumping into Harry actually had been an accident… ugh. Harry couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing.

Harry stopped just behind Blaise and Theo, on the edge of a crowd of upper year students. Derrik and Bole there, but Harry hadn't gotten to know them well, even though they were beaters on the Slytherin team. Harry also recognized Urquhart, a fifth-year who always tried out for the team but was never quite good enough to make it as a chaser. It was a good crowd for a conversation about quidditch.

"There he is!" Urquhart was looking directly at Harry, a smile on his face. "I was just saying how curious I am to know what Flint said to you after the first time out. It must have been quite the pep talk. Care to share the secret with us?"

Harry smiled. "Flint doesn't give many pep talks, so I'm not sure how he'll feel about me giving away closely guarded secrets…"

"Come on, Harry. Be a sport."

"Well, I guess I can say." Harry waved his free hand in the air, motioning for Urquhart to come closer. Urquhart leaned in, as did Derrik and Bole. Even Blaise and Theo moved closer. "He said, 'Potter, in my first game, I scored on my own keeper. Don't do that.'"

Urquhart, Derrik and Bole looked at Harry curiously, unsure how to respond to his words.

"I never said Flint was good at pep talks," Harry said, then burst into laughter. Urquhart smiled and chuckled, even though it was plain that he didn't get the joke. Pansy laughed, a little too loudly, and slipped her arm through Harry's.

That was no accident.

"That's really all he said?" Derrik asked.

"No, no, no," Harry said. "Flint did say something about strategy. What was it…" Harry feigned an inability to remember, playing the moment for drama. Urquhart leaned close once again, hoping to finally hear the secret strategy.

"Oh, right," Harry said. "Flint said, 'Potter: win.' And I thought to myself, 'Brilliant!'"

Derrik and Bole began to laugh. Flint's inability to articulate strategy was a running joke among the quidditch team. Their captain would often grow frustrated and yell things like, "Just do it right!" and "Stop screwing up!" Certainly not the most constructive criticism, and rather funny, in retrospect. On the field, however, Harry and his teammates bottled up their laughter, lest they face the wrath of the glowering Marcus Flint.

"It was a good thing that Gryffindor couldn't hear us," Harry said. "Flint had the secret strategy that they've been missing all this time. Gryffindor fly and pass and shoot but they always forget the last step: win. It's so simple, I don't know why they didn't think of it."

Urquhart's laughter joined Derrik's and Bole's. Talking to other students was easier than Harry had expected, and it felt good to joke with the other Slytherins. Harry wasn't sure what had held him back in the past, but he was sure that it wouldn't hold him back in the future.

"Don't look now," Bole said. "Your little stalker is staring at you."

Harry turned, following Derrik's gaze. Across the room, Tracey Davis was looking at Harry, eating a biscuit from a small plate. When Harry met her eyes, she gave him a small wave. Harry raised his head, nodding in acknowledgment.

"I said, 'Don't look,'" said Bole. "Now she's seen us and she might come over here."

"Tracey? What's wrong with that?" Harry was confused.

"She's a weird one, Potter," Bole said. Derrik nodded in agreement.

"Tracey's alright," Harry said. Harry looked at Blaise and Theo. Blaise was obviously trying to avoid making eye contact with Harry. Theo shrugged noncommittally.

"She's bizarre," said Derrik. "Always following you around, nipping at your heels."

"If I ever try to talk to her, she either ignores me or corners me and talks at me for the next twenty minutes," Pansy said. "Clearly she never learned the meaning of small talk. And she's not from a good family, either."

"What do you get from her?" Blaise asked Harry. "She isn't even that attractive." Blaise glanced at Pansy briefly as he spoke.

"I like Tracey," Harry said. "She's my friend, and I'm not going to talk bad about her."

Pasny sighed. "Don't get all wound up, Harry." She tugged at his arm. "Take me to get some pumpkin juice?"

Harry smiled a little. "Okay, let's go." He gave a shrug to Blaise and Theo and allowed himself to be led to the food table. Harry poured a cup of pumpkin juice for himself and another for Pansy. As he handed Pansy her drink, Daphne Greengrass came dashing up.

"Pansy!" Daphne seemed excited. "You absolutely have to see the dress that Millicent is wearing. It's a complete horror show."

Pansy glanced at Harry. She clearly wanted to stay with Harry, but Harry knew that Pansy had long held a secret desire to add Daphne to her clique of friends. Both Pansy and Daphne were rich, pure-blooded witches, and their families had a long-standing rivalry. If Pansy could maintain her queen bee status while forcing Daphne to take a subservient social role, it would be an enormous coup for the Parkinson family. Pansy's plot wasn't public knowledge, but Daphne had gradually become aware of Pansy's desire. Until now, Daphne had remained rather aloof, thereby avoiding most of Pansy's social intrigues.

"I'll be back in just a few minutes, Harry," Pansy said. She just couldn't pass up the opportunity to bond with (and potentially manipulate) Daphne. After all, nothing could make two Slytherin girls grow closer than being nasty about how another girl was dressed. "Wait here for me?"

"I'll be around," Harry said with a smile. If Pansy wanted to be around him that badly, she'd find him. She always seemed to manage it.

Before Pansy could reply, Daphne had seized her by the arm and was pulling her away into the crowd.

"You're a hard man to get alone," Tracey said from Harry's side. Harry was startled, but managed not to jump. Tracey had the unnerving ability to appear out of nowhere, and Harry was only slowly becoming acclimated.

"It's a party, Tracey. Weren't you just telling me that I should be doing this more?"

"Yes. Thankfully, Theo and Blaise managed to get you focused on people who are important. I was on the verge of coming over and chastising you myself."

"I didn't expect prejudice against first years from you," Harry said.

"Please. You have four more years to make the younger students like you. They'll worship the ground you walk on simply because you're older. But the seventh years will graduate in just a few months. And when you graduate, they're the ones who will have jobs and business contacts."

"C'mon, Tracey. You're taking things too seriously! We just won the quidditch cup! This is a party! Have fun!"

"I saw what happened with Draco this afternoon," Tracey said quietly. Her voice was so soft that Harry could hardly hear her over the noise of the party, but Harry sobered immediately.

"It looked pretty horrible," Harry said, deliberately playing dumb. "I remember when I broke my arm last year, and this has to be much worse."

"You know that's not what I mean," Tracey said, refusing to be deterred.

Harry sighed. "Are you going to tell anybody?"

Tracey looked up at Harry and placed a hand lightly on his arm. "Of course not, Harry. I'll never betray you." Her gaze was steady and her voice honest. Harry could see how, in normal conversations, Tracey's intensity could be off-putting. Right now, however, it was more than welcome. Harry believed that Tracey would keep his secret.

Harry let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you, Tracey."

"But if I saw it, somebody else might have. You should go see Draco right away and make sure he knows the real story."

In other words, Harry should go and lie to Draco. Once Harry established the "true" story with Draco, Draco wouldn't believe anybody who told him the truth about the match.

"Okay," Harry said. "I'll go talk to him"

"He should know exactly how you tried to save him," Tracey said, coughing lightly into her hand. "Make sure he knows that you were close but too late, and how bad you feel that your warning made him turn directly into the bludger."

"Yeah, I get it Tracey," Harry snapped.

"But sometimes you don't. I have to make sure."

Harry looked around. He didn't want to leave the party… especially not for the sort of conversation he was going to have with Draco. It would be uncomfortable under any circumstances, even if he wasn't planning on lying through his teeth to his best friend.

"One other thing," said Tracey. "Be careful with Pansy. She's trying to lay claim to you."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked. Harry also wondered if Pansy laying claim to him would be that bad.

"When Pansy was sitting quietly on a couch, listening to you talk to first years. She couldn't have been farther from the center of attention if she had tried. When have you known Pansy to willingly take herself away from the center of attention?"

"Maybe she just wanted to talk to me."

"Or maybe she wanted to wrap you around her finger, then stand you up and parade you around the common room so that everybody would know that Harry Potter was her territory."

"I think you're being overdramatic."

"And you're being naïve. I'll bet you ten knuts that Pansy told Blaise and Theo that she was going to extract you from your conversation with the first years, and that if she wasn't able to, the boys were supposed to come over and rescue you both."

"Deal." Harry was willing to do anything to delay the oncoming horror of his conversation with Draco. Harry caught Nott's eye and waved him over. He moved quickly through the crowd.

"Hey Harry, Tracey," Nott said. "What's going on?"

Tracey got directly to the point. "Nott, why did you go pull Harry away from the first years a few minutes ago?"

"Well, he wasn't doing a good job of getting himself away, was he?" Nott laughed and turned to Harry. "Sorry, mate, but Pansy and Blaise and I were having a laugh about it. Pansy was the first one to take pity on you. She said that if she couldn't get you out, we'd have to come save you both." Nott laughed again. "That girl is completely helpless, sometimes. It's a good thing Blaise fancies Pansy, because I was inclined to sit back and laugh at the both of you."

"Thanks a load, Nott," Harry said. Harry filed away the fact that Blaise fancied Pansy. That might be useful later.

"Hey, I helped you out eventually," Nott said.

"With friends like you…" Harry said, and Nott laughed again. Harry turned to Tracey. "I'm going to go talk to Draco. You and Nott have fun."

"You owe me ten knuts," Davis said.

Harry waved a hand in the air. "Yeah, I know."

As Harry walked to the hospital wing, he thought about what he was going to say to Draco. Part of him wanted to ignore Tracey's advice and confess what he had done, but Harry was sure that it would destroy his friendship with Draco. And, really, what would he say? "I was pretty sure you wouldn't die?" "I'm glad that I'm seeker and you're alive?" "Your health was less important than my personal achievements?" "I'm probably willing to sacrifice you if it means getting what I want?"

By the time Harry reached the doors of the hospital wing, he had resigned himself to following Tracey's instructions. But he couldn't lie to Draco. Instead, Harry would carefully emphasize his (belated) efforts to keep Draco from harm. If Harry was sufficiently convincing, then, by the time that somebody told Draco what Harry had really done, Draco would reject the story as a complete absurdity.

Harry reached into his pocket and grasped the golden snitch from the day's match, rubbing it with his thumb as if it were a good luck charm. He looked at the doors. Somehow, what he was about to do seemed more intimidating than facing down a three-headed dog or entering the Chamber of Secrets.

Standing outside the door wasn't going to help. Harry took a deep breath and walked into the hospital wing. He found Draco sitting up in bed, bandages wrapped around his head. As soon as Draco saw Harry, the blonde boy's face fell.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Draco said. "I let you down."

"What?" These were the words that Harry had least expected to hear.

"Before today, you'd won every match that you had started at seeker. You started this match earlier this year, and I lost it for you. I let you down. I let everybody down."

"Draco, you don't-"

Draco interrupted Harry. "When it started getting late, I knew that Gryffindor must be dragging out the match, running up the score so that they could win the quidditch cup." Draco gestured at Harry's robes. "It's just like you, coming up here without even changing, even though we just lost the match. I'm sorry."

Draco was staring down at his blanket, despondent, when the golden snitch dropped into his lap. Harry's toss had been perfect. Draco picked up the snitch and turned it over in his hands.

"You can't be serious," Draco said.

Harry smiled. "Gryffindor never had a chance. They can't beat one of us at seeker, so how did they expect to beat us both?"

Draco laughed and raised a fist into the air, clutching a snitch. "Tell me everything."

Harry sat at the edge of Draco's bed and began to speak. Harry was quick in his retelling; Draco understood the jargon of quidditch, and Harry was able to convey in a word what a layperson would take several sentences to understand. Draco nodded, his smile growing larger with every word.

"That's fantastic, Harry! I can't believe we won!"

"The match, the cup… we won it all."

"You should be at the party, Harry." Draco pounded his fist against the bed. "And I should be there, too. Stupid head injury…"

"There will be other parties," Harry said. Maybe Harry could trade; if he denied himself the pleasure of returning to the party, perhaps it would relieve some of the guilt that was weighing so heavily on his heart. The universe worked like that… right?

"How did it happen?" Draco asked. "The bludger, I mean."

"When we switched to a three-across, the twins couldn't use the Bagman Bash against the chasers, because we were moving vertically…"

"…so they shifted their attention to the seeker. It makes perfect sense, in retrospect," Draco said. "You even tried to warn me."

"Yeah, but I should have been faster," Harry said. Given the amount of guilt Harry was feeling at the moment, it was easy to allow a small amount to creep into his voice. Draco could take it however he wanted to.

"Nobody else on the team would have warned me, you know," Draco said. "You're the only one."

Harry was astonished—Draco had already convinced himself that Harry had done everything he could to help on the pitch. It was like Harry's work was being done for him. The Powers That Be must have decided that Harry deserved a break, for once. Instead of lying to his friend, apparently all Harry had to do was cheer him up.

"Flint saved me last year when Dobby messed with that bludger," Harry said.

"Flint saved you because he wanted to play professional quidditch, and winning matches got him closer to his goal," Draco said. "You know I'm right, Harry. If I had taken Pucey's position, Pucey would have kept quiet and let that bludger knock me into next week, just so he could have his spot back."

"I don't think we're that cold and calculating."

"Maybe you aren't," Draco said. "Did you ever wonder why I shook your hand at Madam Malkin's, before first year? Dressed like you were, obviously lacking any knowledge about the wizarding world? You fairly screamed muggle-raised. From what you know of me, is there any world in which I would try to be your friend?"

Harry was silent.

"I decided to be your friend," Draco said, "because I thought it would be a good idea to know Harry Potter. Not you as a person, but you as an icon: Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. My father is always on about 'the importance of knowing people,' so I reached out and shook your hand. It was the Slytherin thing to do."

"So what? You're my friend now. That's what matters." Harry was actually a little offended, but he also felt obligated to cut Draco some slack.

"There you go again. You know why we're such good friends, Harry? It's because we understand each other. We know what it's like to have an image to uphold. The constant scrutiny, just because of your name. The expectations. You and me, we understand the loneliness of the elite."

Harry nodded. Harry did understand; every time a wizard spoke to him while looking at his scar instead of his eyes, Harry felt it.

"I can be myself around you," Draco said. "All the things that people want from me, the money or the status… you have that already. If you're hanging around with me, it's not because of my name. And I appreciate that."

Harry smiled. "Earlier this year, I said the same thing to Granger about you."

"Ugh, Granger. Why are you friends with her, anyway?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"The same reason you and I are friends: she treats me like a normal person." Harry paused. "Actually, I need a favor about that. I need you to stop calling her 'mudblood.'"

"It's only true," Draco said.

"She hates it, Draco. And if you keep it up, all the work I've put in to befriending the smartest witch in our year will go to waste."

"How very Slytherin of you," Draco said.

"Come on, Draco. Call it a trade for trying to warn you about the bludger." Harry's guilt flooded back full force, and he struggled to keep his voice even. He hated himself for saying that, but Draco shouldn't have been calling Hermione a mudblood in the first place. Harry and Draco were both in the wrong, so it was an even trade.

"Fine, I'll stop," said Draco. "But only because it's you asking."

"Thanks, Draco." Harry smiled. The two boys were silent for a moment.

"Don't you have a party to be at?" asked Draco. "You're wasting a perfectly good chance to bask in the adulation of your fans!"

"I don't bask, Draco. You bask. I revel."

"Then go revel. If I can't bask, then I have to live vicariously through your revelry."

Harry stood. "You and I will have our own celebration when you're out of the hospital wing."

"I'm holding you to that."

Harry waved and left the hospital wing. He felt much better. Things were looking up.

A/N: A lot of Guest reviews last week, and some of them very detailed. Thanks to everybody, especially Gwenlynn, who is my most frequent guest reviewer. If you guys and gals were signed in, you'd get a PM from me in response to your review. Since you aren't, you'll have to be satisfied with this vague author's note. Then again, if your plan has been to avoid getting a bunch of PMs from weirdo authors, congratulations, you have succeeded!