Pansy had always been on Draco's side. On occasion she would slap him upside the head and tell him to man up, but ultimately she had his back. Except this time, she didn't.
"Excuse me? I'm meant to dump one of my friends because you told me to?"
"You dumped Zabini that time I got into a fight with him," Draco pointed out. He was still furious over Bones' betrayal and was snarling at Pansy more than he usually would. "You didn't speak to Greengrass for a week after she spread those terrible rumours about my hair."
"This is Bones," Pansy told him. "The rules have changed."
"Why?" Draco demanded. "She's not even Slytherin."
"Exactly. She has morals. If anyone screwed up then it was you, and you're on your own."
"That's the way it is?" asked Draco.
Pansy shrugged. "If she tells me that it's her fault I'll change my mind then, not now."
That should have been fine. Even now Draco knew that Bones wasn't a liar. She'd tell Pansy that it was her fault, not Draco's. But he resented that Pansy trusted Bones over him. What he resented even more was that he still trusted Bones to tell the truth. After what she'd done he should have written her off; but he knew her. He knew how far she'd go; and she wouldn't go so far as to making Pansy – or any of his friends – believe that he was in the wrong. He wished that she would. Then maybe he'd be able to hate her.
"Don't bother," said Draco. "You've made your mind up. Keep her. I'm done."
He turned to walk away, but Pansy's voice stopped him. "You don't have enough friends that you can afford to lose me," she said. "You're my friend, so is Bones. That's how it is, and we're not done." It was how she spoke more than anything else that made Draco nod stiffly in agreement. Her voice was flat and cool as though there was no room for disagreement.
Draco was glad. He had friends, but he didn't want to lose Pansy. And he'd have her back once Bones told her what had happened.
Only he didn't.
"What do you mean that you're still friends with Bones?" he demanded when she came back from meeting with Bones.
Pansy pulled her cloak off and shook water droplets from her hair. There was no one else in the world that she would endure rain for. Not that Draco had ever asked Pansy to walk with him in the rain. He wouldn't endure rain for anyone but Bones either. "What I said. We're still friends," she said, eyeing the fire in the Common Room grate.
"Did she lie? Did she say the fight was my fault?"
"No, no. The fight was her fault. She's a bitch."
Draco folded his arms, glaring at Parkinson. "So?"
Pansy shrugged, tossing her cloak over the back of a nearby couch. "So she's really miserable about the whole thing. It's not as though she meant to hurt you."
"I'm not hurt," Draco bit out. "I'm appalled by her hypocrisy and will not stand for it."
Pansy smiled at him. "She still wants to be friends with you. Would it kill you to have a secret friendship? Really?"
Draco's eyes narrowed. "I can't believe you would ask me that."
"Why? I'm a realist, Malfoy. And the reality is that most people see you as a Dark Wizard in training while most people see the Bones' as beacons of Dark Wizard catching light. It's not as though you're new to keeping secrets, so what's the problem?"
Draco chose not to respond, turning on his heel and stalking out of the Common Room. The problem was obvious. Draco might have been ashamed to be seen with people in public, but Bones should not have been.
He was prepared to spend the next several days acting as though his life had gotten immeasurably better whenever it was meal-time in the Great Hall or whenever he was in a class with Bones. She even ruined that for him though. She never showed up in the Great Hall at meal times. After a few days he began to wonder whether she was eating at all. She was still turning up for classes, but sitting as far away from his usual spot as possible. Usually that meant she was sitting at the front of the class, so pretending to be super-happy wouldn't even work. She'd never notice it.
Usually in this sort of situation Draco would bitch and moan to Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson about what a cow Bones was. In this situation, Parkinson wouldn't allow it. She'd give him a hard look if he tried and tell him to stop. If he kept going, he knew that she would hex him. She had never let people speak badly of her friends.
He whinged to Nott and Zabini instead, as neither of them had ever liked Bones. Nott listened for a few days before telling Draco to get over it.
"It's not something you do get over," Zabini drawled. "She treated him like he wasn't worthy of her presence…"
"She's a Hufflepuff," said Nott. "They may be sweet but don't expect courage or resolve from them. You should have known better, Malfoy."
"She should have known better," Zabini shot back. "Everyone knows not to mess with Slytherin. You should punish her."
It was a nice thought. Bones was impossible to punish though – at least Draco had never figured out how.
"Punish her for what?" Nott's voice was flat and cool, a sure sign that he was annoyed. "Reverting to type? She has acted precisely how one would expect her to act. You should never have let yourself get drawn in so far. She's not even pretty."
Draco didn't protest because Nott was right. Bones wasn't at all pretty. And that made the whole thing even worse. Draco would be the one making sacrifices to be seen with her in public. He'd be the one people would be laughing at. And he would have still been willing.
Bones had nothing to lose. Well, nothing except for people like Potter who judged and condemned based on pretty much nothing. The fact that she would choose to keep friends like that over him… Yes, he wanted to punish her.
"We could spread rumours about her," said Blaise.
Draco considered it. "I doubt she'd care," he said finally. "She never really does care what people think of her."
Theo straightened, shoulders bunching and eyes narrowing.
Draco glanced at him before realising the incongruity of what he had just said. Of course Bones would care what people thought of her if she was worried about being seen with him in public. It still didn't sit right. She had never given him the impression that people's opinions of her mattered.
In History of Magic she had once argued against imprisonment for the werewolves that had followed Voldemort in the first war. Professor Binns had been against her. The entire class had been against her. She had held to her argument; had not lost an inch of ground during the fight.
Finally Harry Potter asked, "How does your aunt feel about the fact that you're backing murderers?"
Bones only straightened her shoulders. "She would rather me have the right opinion than the popular opinion."
And the class had broken into shouts of outrage and name-calling. Probably the only History of Magic class Draco had had where he didn't want to take a nap.
Draco threw himself back in his seat, scowling. It didn't make sense. Bones hadn't cared about supporting actual murderers then, in front of the entire class. It was stupid to stand by an argument like that when she was too afraid of what people might think to stand by him.
Bones probably found it easier to have ethics in theory than in practise. If Voldemort's werewolves of the first war were to be released, she'd likely change her opinion on the matter.
Even knowing that about her changed nothing. Draco missed her. She was like an ache that never quite went away. The worst of it was that he forgot that he no longer had her. In the mornings, he'd wake and stretch, considering way-laying her before breakfast. Then he'd realise that was no longer an option. If anything the realisation hurt more now than it had in the first few days. His anger was fading; the way he felt about Bones was not. And that made him want to punish her too.
He would break. The awareness settled on him like a heavy, old cloak – uncomfortable, smothering but warm. Draco wanted to fight against it, but he was resigned to the truth of it. He would go back to Bones, and he would accept this secret friendship because she wouldn't offer more. He would hate her for it, hate himself for it; but it was only a matter of time.
"No," Nott said.
Draco glanced across to find him scowling at Zabini.
"You're not going to hex her, or anything else." Nott turned to glare at Draco. "Tell him," he said. "Tell him you don't want her hexed."
Draco curled his mouth into a sharp grin. "It depends on which hex we're talking, Nott. Something long-lasting and nasty preferably."
Zabini laughed.
Nott's shoulders shifted and he studied Draco with a coldly steady gaze. "You're in the right," he said. "Hex her and she'll think that everything she did to you was justified. That you deserved it. Leave her and she'll suffer more than she ever would under any revenge you could come up with."
"She's not suffering though, is she?" Draco snapped. "She's fine. She's not crying in the hallways or miserable in class. She still has most of my friends and all of her own."
Nott leant back in his seat, watching Draco.
Draco felt his spine stiffen in response. Nott had a terrible habit of seeing too much. He didn't say anything though, just turned away, rising from his chair and heading for the door.
"You know she deserves it," drawled Zabini.
Theo paused in the doorway, resting his hand against the frame. "What she deserves isn't the point," he said before walking out.
Zabini smirked. "He does know. You know too, Malfoy."
Draco considered the matter. He had made all of the first moves. He'd chased Bones' Potions partner away in order to sit with her, he'd blackmailed her to get her to Hogsmeade, he'd invited her to swap spells. But she had made him feel as though he was the sort of person that could be trusted. As though he was worth being around. She had made him feel as though the name 'Malfoy' didn't mean anything and that Slytherin was as acceptable as any other house. "Oh, yes," he said. "She deserves pain."