Several Relationships Develop

Author's Note: Yes, this will still be slash. Pansy's just ... moving things along a little. XD

Chapter Six:

Several Relationships Develop

That week, all of the arrogance that Malfoy had lost returned full force. Harry noticed that his features were a bit less pinched than they had been before, and the boy had taken to loudly boasting that he and his family were going to rise again. He sauntered through the halls, ordering Crabbe and Goyle around as if he were a king. Hermione commented that he hadn't been that bad since fourth year, and Harry had to agree.

"At least you don't have to sleep in the same dorm. It's terrible!" Harry exclaimed furiously.

It was nearing Friday when Malfoy realized that his father wasn't going to contact him.

Harry worked steadily alongside his classmates in Slughorn's Potions class, attempting to avoid his notice. Slughorn had kept an annoyingly close watch on Harry all term, and Harry was very glad that their Slug Club meetings had been postponed, for one reason or another, all year. Hermione was sick this particular day, and he was working alone, which meant that every once in a while Slughorn would nose his way over to Harry's station to see how he was doing. Every once in a while being far too often for Harry's liking.

"But I haven't talked to him since the escape. What's she on about anyway?" Malfoy was saying irritably over his and Blaise's work. Harry leaned forward in his desk, attempting to eavesdrop without being obvious.

"Try explaining that to her and see if she believes you. Somehow I doubt she'll listen."

"But doesn't she know that I have more important things to worry about?" Malfoy hissed.

"Look, if she doesn't, she can just fuck herself," said Blaise, his voice rising irritably. "All I'm saying is that I'm sick of being involved in your business. It's not like you give a consolation prize!"

Harry tried not to seem like he was listening. Malfoy, exasperated, broke into normal speech.

"Look, I'll try to talk to her, but I'm not making any promises! I'll only bring it up if the opportunity presents itself!"

The knife Blaise was using hit the table with a sharp thwack.

"Oh, is my request getting in the way of your ability to twist her knickers oh-so-deviously?" Blaise's voice was irritated, and Malfoy immediately jumped to his own defense.

"Definitely not!"

He shot a calculating look around the classroom and bent his head closer to Blaise. Harry groaned inwardly as Slughorn got up and started to head for Harry's desk. Slughorn clapped Harry on the back and made a rather loud, annoying comment about Harry's potion that seemed to fill the room. Harry felt himself blush, and all ability to listen in on the conversation in front of him was lost.

Once the bell had rung and all the potions had been cleaned up, Malfoy walked past Harry and out the door. He sneered at him, and Harry sneered right back.

**

"Oh, Draco, you can't mean that!"

Pansy's annoying wail was not the first thing Harry wanted to hear at the breakfast table in the morning. Resigned to a loud breakfast of Pansy and Malfoy fighting, Harry scooped some eggs onto his plate.

"Of course I mean it! Get off me!"

Pansy was clinging to Draco's arm, wailing about something he'd said. Harry rolled his eyes and thought that this had been coming for a while.

"But you love me!"

"Do you have any idea how annoying you are? Any at all? No? Then get away from me!"

Pansy's lip quivered, but to her credit, she didn't immediately start wailing. Instead, she tried to turn the quivering of her lip into an appealing pout. A group of third year girls started to giggle, but Pansy only muttered a few words under her breath. A moment later, they found their coffee had spilled over onto their robes and Pansy was storming away.

Harry sighed as he finished his own coffee and small breakfast. Throwing his bag over one shoulder and standing up, he started to follow the other students leaving for class.

"Harry! Wait for me!"

He stopped and turned, waiting up for Ginny as she tried to politely push through a group of fourth-year Hufflepuffs. He smiled, watching as she apologized quickly and caught up with him.

"Hello. How are you?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just trying to get some peace from Ron. He's in a towering mood over the Quidditch match on Saturday."

"Why? He's a fair Keeper."

Ginny shook her head.

"He can't get over his nerves, you know that."

Harry's mouth formed a silent "Oh," and he looked away, not trusting himself to speak.

"Are you going to the Masquerade?"

The question took him completely by surprise, and he gaped at her.

"What?"

They stopped walking and Ginny blinked up at him innocently, hugging her books to her chest. Harry looked about for any answer that wouldn't incriminate him, and any answer that would let her know he didn't want to go with her – or Hermione, for that matter, as Harry remembered that Ginny was still with Dean. Oh God! She was trying to set him up?

"Er –"

"Of course he is, Weasley."

They both wheeled around to look at Pansy, who was leaning against a pillar close by and had obviously been listening in on their conversation.

"But I seriously doubt he'll be going with you." Pansy's smirk was more of a simper, really, but it was effective in an annoying way.

"How would you know that Harry was going if he wasn't even sure himself?" Ginny asked, an angry glint in her eyes.

"Why, Weasley, because he has asked me for dancing lessons."

"Dancing lessons?" Ginny asked, her eyes bugging out slightly.

"You heard me the first time. Now, if you will excuse us, we have Charms to get to."

And with that, Pansy grabbed his arm and forcibly yanked him down the hall.

"What are you playing at?" Harry hissed at her.

"Glad to see you've gained some form of intelligence. Bravo! You've surprised me." She giggled a little bit, her nose scrunching up. Harry gritted his teeth.

"Oh, surely it's not so bad," she cooed, her lips turning up at the corners and one hand snaking up to pinch Harry's cheek. He thrust it away angrily.

"Just answer my question."

"You know I won't, so you may as well not even ask."

He really hated her singsong voice, her round brown eyes, and her hand on his arm.

Harry inwardly counted to ten. He should have known she wouldn't give him a straight answer. They were right outside the Charms classroom, and Pansy pulled him into a seat right next to her, with Blaise on his other side.

All through that lesson Harry mulled it over. She was fighting with Malfoy. They'd been bickering for ages (actually, it almost seemed like that was a normal part of their relationship). Today had probably been Malfoy's last straw. He wondered what she had been doing to annoy him so thoroughly.

There must be something in it for her, he thought. Somehow he didn't want to think that this was just some ploy to get Malfoy's attention, though he had to admit it would do that.

It was as he was leaving his second class that he realized he was thinking from the wrong angle. He was halfway through his turkey sandwich when he realized he should be figuring out how to use this to his advantage. His conscience was quickly silenced when Malfoy left early. Too early. Conspicuously early.

The only way to get close to these people would be to use them. If he wanted to get close enough to them to find out what Malfoy was really up to, he would have to manipulate them, and he'd damn well have to do it soon.

**

He was so cold. His fingers crunched, brittle, in the frigid weather. His long hair was nearly frozen over with icicles that broke as he flung it over his shoulder. He slipped in half-formed patches of ice, breaking the thin shroud on top, his feet bathing in puddles of dirty rainwater. It had been sleeting for several days, and he'd run every blessed one of them.

Muggles leered at him as he ran past them. His crazed eyes caught every annoyed, disapproving glance as they shifted back and forth. If he could stand the Muggle filth for thirty more paces, he would be at the old building. He would see it, in front of him, just out of reach.

Finally! He was safe, he was home. The door was flung open by a balding man who looked slightly like a rat, and the light pooled out the door as he rounded the last step.

"Lucius."

**

The next morning was Saturday, and Harry woke with a headache. He rolled over lazily in bed, still half-asleep, though he knew that wasn't just because it was so early.

Last night he'd dreamed of Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, he clarified hurriedly. He tried to remember exact details of the dream, but that only made his headache worse. He curled around a pillow, trying to shield himself from awareness. Maybe if he didn't get up, he'd fall back asleep and wouldn't hurt anymore.

Fat chance. He'd only have more. Today was the Quidditch match, and he'd promised Hermione he would sit with her. He groaned and curled up tighter at the memory. Hermione seemed to think that things would get better if Harry sat with her, but Harry really doubted that. Funny looks and possible confrontation aside, he was pretty sure Pansy would come looking for him. She'd been hanging off him since they had allegedly "gotten together," and he was sick of it. If this was anything like having a girlfriend, Harry didn't want one.

"Ngh, fuck," Harry swore, sitting up and rubbing his head. He yanked open the curtains and got unsteadily to his feet. He stumbled over an open box and grabbed his glasses off the night stand.

When had everything gotten so dark? The light in this dorm was so muted, Harry could barely see where he was going. He dimly registered that Malfoy's curtains were open. He blinked and squinted into the darkness. His bed sheets had been yanked back, and his trunk was wide open. Some of the contents were strewn about in disarray, and he'd left his pajamas on the floor.

What the hell?

Crabbe and Goyle's beds were empty too. They normally slept in late on the weekend. So why the hell were they already gone by eight o' clock? Malfoy was no morning angel either, but Crabbe and Goyle were just pathetic.

The curtains around Blaise's bed were closed, but Harry couldn't feel the spark of a privacy spell radiating off them.

Harry nervously knocked on one of the posts.

He had watched Blaise stumble up to the dormitory from the common room last night with a sixth year Slytherin girl, so he was desperately hoping that he wasn't interrupting anything ... important. The girl had been giggling all night as she flirted shamelessly with Blaise. Harry had watched the two with annoyance and curiosity as the night wore on, and when he had retreated to bed, Blaise's curtains were muffled by a privacy spell.

The curtains quickly parted, and Blaise sat up, obviously irritated, but there was just something else about him that Harry couldn't quite place ... Blaise was half covered, his chest naked. When he saw Harry, he smirked languidly, and blinked slowly.

"Potter. What a pleasant surprise. How can I help you?"

His voice was practically purring with arrogant pride.

"Um – I – er, that is to say ..."

"Good lord, Potter! Pull yourself together! It's only sex."

Harry shook his head decidedly, once, and he desperately tried to remember his purpose.

"Have you seen Malfoy anywhere?"

"No, why?"

"Because he, Crabbe, and Goyle are missing, and I needed to ask him about our assignment. For Potions."

Harry knew his excuse didn't even sound like a remote truth.

"I wonder if Daphne's seen them. She's been up ... should be somewhere around here. Hang on."

Blaise stood up, covers no longer hiding his nudity. Harry quickly reminded himself not to look as Blaise walked along the bed and recovered his sleep pants. He put them on slowly and motioned for Harry to follow him. Harry could feel himself blushing as the red scratches on Blaise's back curled with each movement. Blaise stopped to knock at the bathroom door, staring down at his feet.

Daphne opened the door, in the process of putting on her lipstick and smiled at Blaise.

"Daphne, you haven't seen Draco lately, have you?" Blaise asked, wrapping his arms around her.

"No. Is Potter looking for him?" Her eyes glanced at Harry's beet-red blush, and she smiled prettily.

"Yeah, I am," Harry cut in, feeling more and more like a peeping Tom.

"Well, I certainly haven't seen anyone but you two since I got up. Maybe try the Great Hall?" The innocence in her voice belied the devilish glint in her eyes.

"Yeah, piss off," Blaise said, not taking his eyes off Daphne. "Silly thing, why are you even putting that on? It's only going to come off any way." He took the tube of lipstick from her hand and kissed her temple. She giggled as Harry turned around; whether from his embarrassment or Blaise's attentions, Harry couldn't say.

He quickly got dressed, not wanting to witness any more. His hair was wild, but it would only get worse, and Harry realized at the door that his shirt was on backwards. He quickly flipped it right-side forward and stumbled, slightly dizzy, out the door and into the dungeon hallway.

The bright morning light seared Harry's eyes as he made it to the main floor stretch of hallway. He weaved his way through the crowd, students' conversation bubbling around him. When he stepped into the Great Hall, he quickly decided against stopping by the Gryffindor table. Ron was sitting between Hermione, Ginny, and Neville, ashen-faced and hands trembling. He would only see it as a bad omen if Harry stopped by.

Harry kept an eye on the Gryffindor table all through his breakfast, attempting to ignore Pansy, who was prattling on beside him about absolutely nothing. When the Gryffindor team rose as one and left the hall, Harry excused himself and walked over to talk to Hermione.

She and Neville were in mid-conversation when he arrived, and Neville's eyes got very wide, but he didn't say anything.

"Hey, guys," Harry said, sitting down next to Hermione.

"Harry!" She gave him a quick hug, and Neville smiled hesitantly. "Oh, I'm so glad you came over. We haven't had a chance to talk to you much this week ..."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, glancing around nervously. Several Gryffindors were taking an interest in his presence and were craning their necks to stare obviously at him.

"Are you sitting with us at the match today?" Neville asked, eyes bright, and Harry heard a distinct note of – hope? – in his voice.

"Yeah, if anything to get away from Pansy for a few hours."

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"So it's true then?"

Harry's eyes glanced around the hall quickly, and he nodded.

"What's true?" Neville asked.

"Harry and Pansy. There've been rumors."

"Well, sort of ... it's not really romantic. She's just getting back at Malfoy for pissing her off."

Hermione's brow furrowed, and her lips pressed together disapprovingly, but she didn't say anything.

"W-we should probably get going," Neville stammered, glancing quickly between the two of them.

"Yeah," Harry said, and he got up to follow them.

Harry tried to force conversation, but since his confession to association with Pansy, Hermione had been shooting him disapproving glares. Neville was trying valiantly to play middle man, but Hermione seemed determined to let Harry know she wasn't happy with him.

Soon, Harry had other problems to think about. He'd managed to keep his head down in an emptying Great Hall, but now that he was following his two friends up into his old house's stands, it was hard to fend off the stares. Hermione was obviously starting to get over his confession and was even able to laugh at his jokes.

They settled in towards the top of the stands, but stayed cautiously close to the exit. It seemed that the three of them had an unspoken agreement; Harry might need to leave quickly, and so they should make retreat as easy as possible. Harry sat stiffly on his bench, completely uncomfortable in this territory. When Seamus clapped him on the shoulder from behind, he coughed in surprise, and shifted quickly so the boy wouldn't have to sit on him.

"Good to see you're still on our side!" the Irish boy guffawed, patting his back. Harry smiled.

"Good to see I've still got more than two good friends," Harry replied, and Seamus' jaw dropped.

"Did you honestly think that we'd leave you behind?" he asked incredulously.

"Uhm – well, it's happened before," Harry admitted sheepishly.

"We've been through too much to let that happen!" the Irish boy exclaimed.

Harry thought that was a bit rich, coming from Seamus, but he didn't say anything.

"But you know," Seamus said as he leaned in conspiratorially, "you're wearing the wrong color."

Hermione laughed as she saw Harry's expression, other Gryffindors he'd known filing in to seats next to him, a strangely evil glint in their eyes. Harry let out a shout of surprise when Seamus attacked him, red and yellow paint smeared on his fingers and seeming to get everywhere but onto Harry's face. He pulled two cans of paint out from under the bleachers, and soon all of the Gryffindors were joining in. They laughed lightheartedly as Seamus' last globs of paint were smeared all over the Slytherin crest on Harry's chest. Neville, laughing in that twisted little Neville way of his, helped Harry up and back onto the bench, hair spattered with flecks of red and gold.

The large painted handprint on the back of Harry's robes stood as a testament to their zealous friendship.

Harry cheered just as loudly as the rest of them when the teams marched out onto the field, and he pumped the air delightedly as the teams took off. Hermione took up a running commentary, much louder and more important than Zacharias Smith's drawling speech over the loudspeaker. She was filling Harry in (with much interruption) on the Gryffindor activities since the beginning of the year, every once in a while interjecting loud groans or cheers as the game was played out.

"Wow. When did Ron get to be such a good player?" Harry asked as he watched Ron make a particularly good save.

"That's what I've been wondering," Hermione said, replaying the save through her omnioculars.

"I've been sitting in on practices." Lavender leaned in close to Harry's ear. "He's been really passionate this year. Couldn't tell you why, but it's just like it clicks."

"Huh."

Harry watched Ron's form as he triumphantly pumped the air. The teams were all rushing toward the center of the pitch, their robes and hair flying out behind them. Harry missed Smith's commentary, his attention fixated on Ron.

"What happened?" he asked, jumping to his feet as the Gryffindors cheered wildly.

"Ginny caught the Snitch! It came out of nowhere!" Hermione screamed over the crowd, her cheeks pink with excitement.

The players came down off the field, and Hermione tugged on Harry's arm. He laughed, jumping out of his seat and rushing out to meet the players.

When the two of them stepped out onto the pitch, Harry heard a high-pitched squeal as Ginny came running toward them.

"You came! You came!" she shrieked as she jumped into his arms.

"How could I miss it?" Harry laughed, giving her a huge hug.

"Oh! You're even sporting the right colors!" She giggled, spotting the flecks of paint Seamus had gotten all over him.

"Yeah, and they're all over you now, too." Harry grinned mischievously, but Ginny just waved him off.

Harry's eyes were drawn past her to Ron, who was scowling at them and ignoring Hermione's pleas to stay. Ron turned abruptly on his heel and left, broom over his shoulder, to the changing rooms.

"Oh, no," Harry said, but Ginny was already talking to Dean, and no one seemed to have noticed Ron.

"Harry, are you coming up for the party?" Dean asked, his arm around Ginny and a bright smile on his face. He looked incredibly fit in his Quidditch robes.

"No, no, there's something I have to do."

Dean shrugged.

"Fine, suit yourself."

Harry lagged behind as people started to clear the pitch, and once all the players were in the showers, and all the fans headed back to their common rooms, Harry sat down outside the door to wait for Ron.

**

Two hours later, Harry was tired of waiting.

"Ron!" he shouted, fist pounding on the door and blood rushing in his ears. "Ron! I know you're in there! Ginny told me you were hiding!"

"Piss off!"

"If you don't let me in right now, I'm coming in on my own!"

There was a muffled shriek from inside.

"Hang on a minute!"

Harry heard rustling coming from behind the door, and soon Ron stuck his head out.

Harry immediately felt guilty. He was very pale, and had a strange look in his eyes, one that he had seen once before, after the first task his fourth year ... He looked like a scared little boy.

Shocked to see the effect he'd had on his best friend, the paranoia that danced in those hurt blue eyes, all the rage spilled out of Harry, and he completely forgot what he was going to say.

"I'm sorry." The words left him before he'd realized what he'd said. "I – is now a bad time?"

"That depends on why you're here," Ron snarled, but it couldn't cover up the fear Harry had already seen.

"I just wanted to ... er, congratulate you. You flew really well today."

Ron's mouth dropped open, but he didn't say anything.

"I've – missed you."

Harry knew the words were lame, but he couldn't get anything else out. Harry cursed inwardly, not knowing what to say in this sort of situation ...

"I guess I'll just go, then ..." Harry tentatively turned around, but what happened next stopped him in his tracks.

"I've missed you too."

Ron blurted it out, as if he had no control over what he was saying. Harry wondered if Ron had even admitted that to himself yet. Harry turned to face the other boy, who was finally coming out of the locker room.

"What happened to you? Luna's lion hat get sick all over your robes?" Ron muttered under his breath, but there was a little smile around the edges of his lips.

Harry laughed.

"No, Seamus happened."

"Oh," Ron said, smiling. "So that's what that paint was for ..."

Harry smirked, and without warning Ron ran for the castle.

"Race you back to the castle!" Ron shouted back to Harry, who ran, laughing, behind him.