Playing with Fire

Spring in the Air

Lately, Harry kept finding himself caught between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy while the two were engaged in some sort of academic discussion that consistently went over his head. Occasionally, Blaise Zabini would be there, but Harry could never commiserate with him because Blaise would simply join said conversations. Harry's only luck came in the form of Ron, who found all academic discussion useless, and Pansy, who while incredibly smart, would rather speak about absolutely anything else.

When he had arrived in the common room along with Hermione and Ron, the day they returned from break, Harry had stopped them. "Forgive me if I've missed something, but what the fuck was that?"

Hermione gave him a disapproving look, her lips gathering in a thoughtful way, "Harry, I've been friendly with Blaise all year. Draco's quite literally on our side now, and Pansy's his best friend. What's the harm in spending time with them?"

"And Draco agrees with me about the Cannons!"

"Well all that tells me is he's got shit taste, Ron," Harry spoke the words with a smile. Maybe they were right. What's the harm? They weren't half bad, after all.

____

As Draco sat in the train car, discussing the Chudley Cannons with Ron Weasley, he found himself in deep thought. What were Pansy and Blaise playing at with this? He knew neither of them did anything carelessly, they may have been acting like sitting about with Gryffindor's was normal, but this was a calculated decision. Blaise was reclined, using Harry as a footrest for Merlin's sake.

Eventually, he caught Pansy's eye and she let her mask of nonchalance flicker for a moment, her dark eyes filled with sympathy and concern. She blinked and it was gone. That millisecond told him everything he needed to know.

They were doing this for him. They knew that once word got around Sytherin about his leaving home, things would change. Sides would have to be taken, decisions made. And this was their way of letting him know that no matter what the future may hold, the side they were taking was his.

Draco felt his chest filling with affection for his closest friends, and finally let himself relax. Fleeing home hadn't been the horrible decision he feared it was.

As the months carried on, he became more and more sure of this. The majority of his house couldn't figure out what to do with him. No one knew about his home situation, but it was clear to everyone that he was associating with Gryffindors in his spare time. Draco suspected the only thing preventing people bothering him about it was unease over upsetting his father. And he could handle the occasional snarky comment behind his back.

Then came March. March 9th, to be a bit more accurate.

It was a particularly cold Saturday morning, Draco noted the rain outside as he climbed the stairs to breakfast. Pansy had her arm locked with his own, ranting about Millicent Bulstrode's fit in Transfiguration the day prior. The bulky girl had yelled at a Hufflepuff before storming out of the room, McGonagall blinking after her.

Pansy kept blabbering as they entered the Hall, both scanning the Gryffindor table on their way to the other side of the room. Neither was surprised to see the table void of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Any of them awake before 10 on a Saturday would be a miracle. They chose their seats far away from any housemates.

Draco was buttering a piece of toast when Blaise drifted into the hall, face ever impassive as he took the space next to Pansy. Then, his lips curled up as he informed them he'd seen Millicent crying in the common room on his way there.

"We were just talking about her, weren't we Draco?"

Draco nodded slightly before adding a bit of marmalade to his toast.