I know. I'm brilliant. A very quick update! I'm posting them when I write them now, which urges me to write so I don't leave big gaps between chapters!

This chapter is more angst-y and emotional than funny...sorry. Hopefully it's still ok. Review?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Pansy had an odd look on her face. It was a mixture of anger, pity and confusion.

Harry took a sip from the bottle he had brought out with him.

"I definitely don't hate him and I don't think he hates me either," he said, "I still don't think he particularly likes me though."

Pansy snorted. "But you like him?"

Harry winced. Pansy's gaze was scrutinising.

"Probably more than I should."

They walked in silence for a few beats, Pansy clearly contemplating a response.

"Do you mind me asking, do you still love him?" Harry said, breaking the silence.

"I don't know if I ever did," she said, her voice small.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Pansy pinned him with a harsh look, her eyes untrusting.

"Why would you want to do that? You hate me."

"I think hate is a strong word. I hated Voldemort. I think it's too serious for a bit of house rivalry."

"Fine. We're not friends, Potter. Why do you want to talk to me about feelings?"

"You know Draco. You know what it's like to be in love with him. I thought maybe you could help me," Harry avoided her eyes, and took a sudden interest in his feet.

"You're in love with him?" she whispered.

"Not yet. But I think I could be."

Then Pansy did something that shocked Harry more than seeing Severus Snape with clean hair would. Fully aware that it was not Draco, she hugged him.

"Let's go and talk somewhere private," she said.

...

Draco was a little shell-shocked. Had he really just slow-danced with Harry Potter? Had he just rested his head on his bloody shoulder? He needed some to think, and so he was lying on a sofa, pretending to have passed out. Hermione was unfooled. She knelt down by the side of the sofa.

"Draco," she said, "I know you're awake, so you can spare me the theatrics."

Draco carried on pretending to be comatose. He even let a trail of drool fall out of the side of his mouth for emphasis.

"Draco!" she said, slapping him.

"Fine, fine!" he grumbled, sitting up. He folded his arms petulantly. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to check that you were alright," she replied, "pretending to have passed out to avoid people is one of Harry's favourite things to do, and I never fall for it. You really didn't stand a chance."

"Just came to gloat then, did you?" Draco sneered.

"No, I came to see why you decided it was a good idea to pretend to have passed out. Who are you avoiding?"

"Everyone. I don't want to talk to anyone. They're all looking at me, see?" Draco pointed out, pointing around the room.

Hermione laughed.

"What?" Draco demanded.

"I'm sorry, but you sounded so much like Harry!" she said, between chuckles, "Why does everyone keep looking at me?" she mimicked.

Draco glared. "I don't want to talk about Potter."

"If you're worrying about the dancing, I'd just stick to the story that you were drunk. Most people here probably won't remember it anyway. This is why I was against having alcohol today, next time I am going to send it away or charm it so only of-age students can drink it, and they can't go past their limit."

"Not a bad idea," Draco said, nodding.

"The drunk story or the drinks?"

"Both. I'm going to bed now," Draco said, hauling himself off of the sofa.

"Draco?"

"Mm?"

"If you need or want to talk, I'm here."

"Why would I need to talk to you?"

Hermione let a small smile cross her face.

"You may want to eventually, if thoughts are plaguing you. I'm here to listen and to help you," she said cryptically.

Draco was utterly confused. "Thank you? Also, if anyone asks about the dancing with Potter thing, deny all knowledge."

"Goodnight, Draco."

With that, he headed off to bed. Hermione reclined on the sofa and smiled. He would come to her to talk soon. She knew it.

...

"You first," Harry said.

Pansy was sitting opposite him on the bed, absent-mindedly stroking the green bedspread.

"No way, you first, Golden Boy," she insisted.

Harry rolled his eyes at use of the Daily Prophet's name of choice for him.

"Well, it started a few weeks when we came back for eighth year. The speeches were all on working to get away from the bad memories of the war, getting over old grudges and being happy to be alive. As you probably knew I'd seen Draco a couple of times over the summer, I testified at his trial and I returned his wand. We'd made our peace, shook hands. When we were back at school we carried on pretty much in the same way, still insulted each other, but there wasn't any real malice there anymore, not on my part anyway. Then one day, I just saw him in an entirely different light. Malfoy became Draco, in my mind. I noticed everything about him. The precise colour of his eyes, every little personality tic that he has. I was captivated by him. Of course, he doesn't feel the same way, he carried on as if nothing was wrong, and tried my best to act as though nothing had changed for me. Hermione obviously noticed though, and she confronted me about it. She was supportive, and then she hatched this plan with Blaise for us to swap bodies to get closer to each other. I don't know if it will work, or if it will just make him resent me. I keep thinking we're making progress but then he just shuts his emotions away, so I can't know what's going on inside his head. I just don't know what to think anymore," Harry let his emotions take over, and he fell backwards onto the bed, defeated.

There was a sniffle which alerted him to Pansy's presence. She was wiping her eyes.

"Are you crying?" Harry asked, flabbergasted.

"I'm sorry, but that was just so beautiful!"

"How much did you drink at the Gryffindor party?"

Pansy slapped him. "Stop! I'm just crying because of the things you said, don't ruin it!"

"I just told the truth, is all," Harry said, not sure how to cope with a crying girl.

"Exactly! I'm just pleased that someone loves my best friend so much!"

"I don't love him, not yet, I just harbour strong romantic feelings for him."

"Potter, that's what love is, you twat!"

"Oh. Will you tell your part of the story now?"

"It's nothing compared to your story."

"I just want to know."

Pansy sighed. "I don't know if I ever did love him, not really. I think I loved the idea of love. My parents always told me that I'd end up marrying him someday. They were close with his parents, and pure-blood marriages tend to be organised from a young age. We have always been friends, and I mistook the kind of love we had. We're best friends, I'd do anything for him, I confused it with romantic love. We tried a romantic relationship, but it didn't work out. Neither of us really knew why. But we stayed good friends, and we've admitted to each other that we'd happily marry the other if our parents told us that we were to marry someone of a respectable birth. We'd get married because we know we get on, even if we weren't in love with each other. I always considered that a last resort though. I'd rather that we married other people for love, and I want the best for Draco," she paused for a second and looked up at Harry, "and as loath as I am to admit it, Potter, I think you'd be good for him."

Harry brightened immediately. "You do?"

"You're a good match. You challenge each other. Neither of you are the kind of people who'd want to be in a relationship with a doormat. But I think underneath that, you'd love each other deeply. Draco also has a vulnerable side, which he rarely lets anyone see, practically only me and his mother, and I think you'd always be there to protect him."

"I would," Harry confirmed.

Pansy smiled. "Then I have the closure I've been hoping for to get for years. Good luck, Potter. It'll take a lot of work getting Draco, but trust me, he's worth it."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"You're not so bad, y'know. Harry."

"That means a lot."

"Can we talk about something else now? This conversation has gotten far too emotional for my liking."

"Agreed. Do you want some of this Firewhiskey?"

"Hell yes."

There you have it! Harry and Pansy have bonded over Draco, and the man himself is still clueless about his obvious feelings for Harry. Maybe not as clueless, but still. It's especially frustrating as the author not being able to make too many Drarry moments happen because they're still in the others body...I should have thought of that.

Ok, when I was younger, I couldn't watch all of the graveyard scene in Goblet of Fire with my eyes open (the bit where Wormtail cuts Harry's arm) or the bit where the Basilisk's fang goes into Harry in Chamber of Secrets. Sense a theme? I am completely petrified of needles and sharp objects going into arms...they're just rejgrwgweqhfvwgel! I hate them. Also, when the Boggart turned into that clown thing in Prisoner of Azkaban...I hated that. I HATE CLOWNS. NO-ONE IS THAT HAPPY ALL THE TIME WITHOUT BEING SINISTER. Also the torture scene in Deathly Hallows Part 1 creeped me out to no end...it's that knife/sharp object thing again, and it was so brilliantly acted as well that it made me shudder.

Happier question this time, yes?

What is your favourite quote from HP? It can be funny, inspiring, or just something light hearted!