Miss Quinn

160 ~ Broken Noses

Draco's POV

By the time Blaise Zabini returned from whatever get-together Slughorn had hosted, it was dark out. He watched the tall black boy slip back inside the compartment and turn to shut the door. As he slid it closed, it got stuck about a shoe's width from the latch.

"What's wrong with this thing?" said Zabini angrily as he smashed the sliding door repeatedly, trying to get it closed.

The door seemed to shove itself back open, so hard that Zabini, still clinging on to the handle, toppled over sideways into Goyle's lap, and in the ensuing ruckus, Draco glimpsed what he thought was the bottom of a pair of shoes as they whipped upward out of sight into the luggage rack. But then Goyle slammed the door shut and flung Zabini off him. Zabini collapsed into his own seat looking ruffled, Crabbe returned to his comic, and Draco, sniggering, lay back down across two seats with his head in Pansy Parkinson's lap. He decided he was probably just seeing things from lack of sleep.

Pansy stroked the sleek blond hair off Draco's forehead, smirking as she did so, as though anyone would have loved to have been in her place. He supposed many would. But he, too, would have loved for someone else to be in her place. A specific someone, that is. With golden-hazel eyes and a knack for recklessness. But he supposed Pansy would do. At least she had the ability to admire him publicly without earning judgement from her friends.

"So, Zabini," said Draco, pulling himself out of his thoughts, "what did Slughorn want?"

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," said Zabini, who was still glowering at Goyle. "Not that he managed to find many."

Draco felt his jaw clench, though he hadn't meant to. Months ago, he would've been in that compartment, too. Bragging about his father's ministry connections. Now, he was just as disgraced as Lucius was. "Who else had he invited?" he demanded of Blaise.

"McLaggen from Gryffindor," answered Zabini.

"Oh yeah, his uncle's big in the Ministry," said Draco, recognizing the name.

"-- someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw --"

"Not him, he's a prat!" shrieked Pansy.

"-- and Longbottom, Potter, Quinn, and that Weasley girl," finished Zabini.

Draco sat up very suddenly, knocking Pansy's hand aside. Truthfully, his sudden movement was due to Blaise's saying "Quinn", but he knew that if he asked about her, they'd suspect things. So instead, he said:

"He invited Longbottom?"

"Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there," said Zabini indifferently.

"What's Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?"

Zabini shrugged.

"Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at 'the Chosen One,'" sneered Draco, investing himself in his rampage, "and Quinn, everyone thinks she's so special -- but that Weasley girl! What's so special about her?"

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy, watching Draco out of the corner of her eyes for his reaction. "Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

Draco wondered how Pansy could even think he'd find ginger-haired Weaselette attractive when he was so obviously in love with someone else, but then he remembered it wasn't obvious at all. He'd been keeping Emma a secret from all of them for years. Because she wasn't the only one with friends who would judge them being together. Not that they ever could be. Not after this summer.

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," said Zabini coldly, and Pansy looked pleased. Draco sank back across her lap and allowed her to resume the stroking of his hair.