33

A vein was bulging on Ron Weasley's forehead and a dull, dangerous, red flush was creeping up his neck, quickly spreading over his face where it blended nicely with his hair. Hermione Granger, walking down Hogsmeade high street with him, had not noticed this sudden change, engrossed as she was in a very one-sided conversation about their Transfiguration homework.

"What the... What the bloody hell is he doing?" Ron's yell alerted Hermione to the danger, and she looked up worriedly, trying to scout out the source of his rage.

It was Harry, of course, walking towards them down the street, all wrapped up for the cold weather in heavy boots and his thick, grey cloak. If Hermione wasn't mistaken, she was sure that that ridiculous sword of his hung around his waist, mostly hidden from view by the folds of grey material. It was obvious, however, that the source of Ron's anger came from the dark-haired Slytherin girl who was tucked happily underneath Harry's arm. At Ron's yell, the couple had looked up from their conversation and, on spotting the two Gryffindor's, began to make their way over. Or, at least, Harry began to make his way over and Pansy was dragged along. But still.

"Hey guys," Harry greeted them with a smile, and Hermione was glad to see that some of the melancholy mood he had been sporting lately had dissipated. It wasn't completely gone, but it was a start. Ron, however, saw nothing of this, focused only on the girl still tucked under Harry's arm.

"She's a Slytherin, Harry!" He exploded, droplets of spittle flying from his mouth which caused Pansy to wrinkle her nose in distaste. A tiny crease appeared between Harry's eyebrows and he looked down at the Slytherin in question.

"Pansy, darling, why you go into Hemming's and start looking at dresses? I'll catch you up in a minute." Pansy rolled her eyes; Gryffindor's had the subtlety of Hagrid. She complied quickly enough though, eager to be away from her present company.

"You... what the hell, Harry?" Ron spluttered, "You're going out with a Slytherin now? Are you mental? They're evil!" Harry kept his face blank and collected, but he betrayed his feelings by clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Who, Pansy?" He asked, innocently, "Nah, mate, she's got no fucking chance. Not really my type, see, being as I'm gay and all. I just thought she was the best way to Malfoy, who, by the way, I can't stop fucking thinking about ever since I kissed him a few months ago. Yeah, Malfoy. Who's a fucking Slytherin too, if you hadn't noticed," Harry paused for breath, trying with all his might to calm down. Hermione and Ron were staring at him, with matching looks of disbelief and shock on their faces. He watched them for about 10 seconds before realising that he really didn't want to be there when they snapped out of their shock. Abruptly, he turned and left.

There was silence for another minute before Hermione's ever rational brain found the answer it had been seeking.

"Honestly," she said, "These jokes of his are getting weirder and weirder."

Harry was in a terrible mood when he walked through the door of Hemmings, but the sight of Pansy standing there in a frilly, lilac dress cheered him immensely. She was standing in front of the mirror, admiring herself from every angle and was clearly pleased with what she saw.

"I am not buying you that, Pansy. It's fucking hideous!" He burst out without thinking of the repercussions. Sure enough, Pansy turned to him with murderous eyes.

"Well, if you think I'm so hideous I suppose I'll just have to go to the ball with someone else," she snapped coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. Harry stifled a giggle at the sight of her angry in that dress, and immediately crossed the shop to fold her into his arms.

"Now, now, Panse, I never said you were hideous, just the dress is. I mean, what the fuck were you thinking? You're a Slytherin. You're strong and cunning, and ruthless, and you want to wear that abomination? Jeez, I'd expect it of Lavender maybe, but you?" Harry shook his head despairingly, before wandering over to one of the racks of dresses.

"Well, almighty fashion king, do tell me what you deem good enough," Pansy spat out sarcastically. Harry ignored her, flicking through dresses on the racks and coming up with nothing. He turned to find another section of dresses when he saw it, hanging on a mannequin in the far corner. It was perfect.

"Oh Pansy," he muttered, "You are going to fucking love this."

"Indeed," Blaise rolled his eyes whilst agreeing with his best friend. Draco had been ranting all day about Harry Potter, and, to be honest, Blaise was fed up with it.

"I mean, even his hair is ridiculous," Malfoy pouted, "It's all sticky up and stupid. Who has hair like that? My hair is much better. So why did Pansy go with him?" Blaise sighed. He never knew if it was a blessing or a curse that Draco only ever showed his true colours when they were alone together. To everyone else, he acted the Slytherin Prince, but only Blaise got to see the whining, pouting, confused and brilliant boy that Draco really was.

"Draco," Blaise interrupted whilst he still had the chance, "Are you really bothered that Pansy is going to the Yule Ball with somebody else, or are you just bothered that Harry Potter is going with Pansy? Because it seems like you're jealous of Pansy more than you're jealous of Harry."

"Excuse me?" Draco's voice was quiet, almost a hiss, and as cold as it could get. Blaise rolled his eyes again. The Slytherin Prince was back. Acting on a whim, Blaise decided to take a leaf out of Potter's book and be blunt. To hell with the Slytherin codes and cunning.

"You fancy Potter. Potter fancies you. And now you're pissed because Pansy has him. Well, I doubt she has him really- more likely he wants to make you jealous, so you'll stop ignoring him. Why don't you just do something for you for a change, instead of following your father's orders all the time. You're fourteen! You're in your fourth year at Hogwarts! It's about time you stood up to him!" Blaise had stood up at some point whilst he was speaking and as soon as he finished, Draco shot up out of his seat as well, snarling at his best friend.

"Like you know what you're talking about! The only problem you've ever had with your mother is having to listen to her shag a different man every night! You have no idea what it's like, I'd like to see you stand up to Lucius Malfoy."

"I have no idea what it's like? I've been there with you every step of the way, mate! I've seen the bruises, the broken bones, the blood and the tears. I've watched you change, watched you cut yourself off from everything you ever cared about. When was the last time you saw your Aunt Andy? The last time you even bothered to run to her after your father was through with you?"

"Don't you even-" Draco began, an angry snarl on his face, but Blaise quickly cut him off.

"No! I'm fed up with this. You've given in to him, haven't you? Just given up. You'll become a Death Eater just like him and you'll kill and rape and torture just like him. Because you won't let us help!" Blaise laughed suddenly, remembering the start of this argument, "I suppose you and Potter at least have something in common in that respect- you both think you have to do everything alone."

The door to the common room opened and a first year girl walked in, stopping with surprise when she saw the scene in front of her. The two boys, whom she had never seen being anything less than brotherly to each other, were inches apart, snarling angrily at each other. That all changed in a second though, as they both snapped their heads towards her.

"Get out!" Malfoy screamed. She didn't need telling twice. Her appearance had interrupted Blaise's anger though, and he stepped back, retreating behind his usual calm, rational exterior. Without another word to his best friend, he turned and swept from the room.

Draco, however, was not so quick to deflate, and it was a long time before anybody dared to enter the common room again that night.