Four

Chapter 4

"Mate, pass the juice."

"Ron, get up and get it yourself."

Ron scowled at Harry, then turned to Draco, his mouth open to speak.

"Weasley, I am most certainly not going to pass you the juice."

"Fine!" he grunted and pointed his wand at the bottle. "Accio!" It flew into his outstretched hand. "Thanks for nothing."

"Why should we give you the juice when you can just do that, Ron?" asked Harry, popping a peanut into his mouth.

"Because you're my friend. And I had to get my wand out of my pocket."

"Weasley, could you be more lazy?" said Draco, scoffing and tossing a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean into his mouth. Watermelon.

It was the perfect October night. There was not a cloud in the sky and only a thin sliver of the waxing moon, leaving the black velvet sky dotted with millions of tiny points of light. Draco had already located a few of his favorite constellations, including the one that shared his name.

Harry and Ron were over to show Draco what in the world was so fun about camping the Muggle way. During the war, the three of them occasionally had to make camp overnight, always using wizarding tents. After they became friends, Harry would go on and on about Muggle camping, saying that it was really camping, whereas the wizarding version was more like having a portable house. It wasn't the same thing at all.

Ron had pointed out that Harry had never actually been camping the Muggle way, and the two of them had made a pact to try it out first thing after the war. They'd bought all the gear, and Hermione had found them books on the subject. Then, because they didn't crack them for two months, she made brief 'need to know' notes from each one. Harry and Ron had fallen in love with camping after the first night and now tried to go as often as possible. They had invited Draco every time, but he had always declined, stating he would rather sleep in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor between rotting corpses than on the ground.

They had finally made a bet with him, and if he lost, he had to join them for one night. If he didn't fall as instantly in love with camping as they had, they would never ask him along again. Draco accepted the bet and lost, only to find out that Harry and Ron had been given information which gave them a distinct advantage. Draco had been so impressed at their devious work that he agreed to go camping, even though they had essentially cheated, feeling certain that he would not adore the activity and one night was worth the promise they would never ask him again. Besides, once they were asleep, he could Transfigure his sleeping bag into a mattress.

Harry and Ron had brought tents and sleeping bags, plus canned food and all the traditional accoutrements of camping. Now they were sitting around a campfire that Harry had started and built without magic in front of Draco's house, tents set up behind them, eating terrible food because that was what you ate when you went camping. Draco couldn't help but think longingly of the pot roast he had in the freezer only a few yards away.

Though he still could not fathom why someone would want to leave the comfort of his or her home and sleep on the ground, he had been forced to admit that up to that point, he was enjoying himself. He especially liked the fire, the way it kept him warm despite the chilly air around him. While that experience was nothing new, he had always seen outdoor fires used as either tools of destruction or a means to stay warm. He had never had the opportunity to simply sit and stare into the fire, watch the flames lick the air, moving, growing, and breathing.

Harry and Ron were presently roasting marshmallows...a white, puffy, and vile food...on long, thin wires in the fire to make what they had called 's'mores.' Draco had agreed to try one despite the funny name, since they both insisted the food was part of the camping ritual and it wouldn't be considered camping with them.

Harry had cooked their dinner over the fire, a bean dish and a can of corn, and they had consumed just enough mead and ale to be well on their way to not being able to feel the ground on which they were to sleep, which was quite fine with Draco.

Ron turned his marshmallow, and Harry gasped and quickly pulled his out.

"Bugger!" he said, blowing out the flames engulfing the white puffy thing.

"Is that not right?" Draco asked.

Harry glanced at him and sighed. "No. You want them to heat all the way through. If they catch fire, they'll just be black on the outside, but cold on the inside."

"Oh," he replied, though he had no idea what Harry meant.

Ron then pulled his out, a nice, medium brown on the outside. "See?" he said, holding it up for Draco to get a good look.

"Er ... that looks great. When may I try a s'more so I can get this part over with?"

"Now," said Ron, putting the confection together. He handed Draco a kind of sandwich with crackers, chocolate, and those marshmallow things. It was sticky and runny, but he tried it anyway and decided he had never tasted anything so delicious. He took a sip of ale to wash it down.

Ron cooked another marshmallow while Harry made himself a s'more. Ron glanced at Harry and then said, "You'll never guess who I ran into yesterday."

Ron was always running into interesting people; he played professional Quidditch for the Tornadoes.

"Who?" said Harry, sounding slightly too interested after Draco displayed his usual lack of attention whenever Ron told them they'd never guess something.

"Pansy."

Draco spat out the last sip of ale he'd taken. "Bugger!" He cleaned the mess off his shirt and poured himself another glass. Then he looked at Ron. "Pansy. Really."

"Yes."

"When? Where did you see her?"

"We played Marseilles last night and she lives there. After the match, she came by to say 'hi.'"

Pansy. She had been the closest thing to a friend Draco had before Harry and Ron. She had switched sides during the War too, not cut out for the grueling, demanding and gruesome life of a Death Eater...or daughter of one. She had changed alliances before Draco, but with nowhere else to go, she went to him. When she appeared in his bedroom one night, soaking wet and filthy, Draco took her in and hid her in his family's house. He hadn't yet made his decision to defect, but he had to take her in; they'd been playmates as children.

Then Draco switched and went to the Order. He had tried to convince Pansy to join as well, but she refused, claiming that she wanted no part of the war. He told her that the war would affect everyone, in some way, before the end. The confining lifestyle Pansy lived in Malfoy Manor eventually became too much for her, and a year before the Dark Lord fell, she left. Draco hadn't seen her since.

He shook his head at the memories. "How is she?"

"She's good," said Ron, glancing at Harry. "She asked about you." Both Harry and Ron watched him intensely, waiting for a reaction, and Draco got the feeling they'd talked about this already.

"And?" he said, taking another drink.

"I told her you were good." Ron paused.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fascinating." He popped another Every Flavour Bean...grass...blech. As he chewed, a nebulous idea tugged at the corner of his consciousness. He decided to follow the idea, see where it might lead. "She seeing anyone?" he asked conversationally, even though he already knew she wasn't.

"No, she's not."

"Didn't think so. She hasn't mentioned anyone lately."

Ron's jaw dropped. "You've seen her?"

"No. It's called owl post, Weasley. She lives in France, remember?"

"When's the last time you saw her?" he asked, taking a bite of his s'more.

Both he and Harry were acting strangely. Draco couldn't imagine what Ron was on about, unless ... unless Ron wanted to see Pansy again.

"Ron, just ask him already," said Harry.

Draco looked between his two friends. "Ask me what?"

Ron turned bright red, swallowed his bite, and blurted, "How do you feel about her?"

Draco frowned. "Who? Pansy? She ... is my friend, for lack of a better word; has been since we were very small. Why?"

"Do you, uh, have any deep-seated, repressed, unexpressed, or unrequited feelings for her?" Ron asked, shifting in his seat.

Draco laughed. "You're asking me if I'm secretly in love with her, aren't you?"

Ron grinned sheepishly and nodded.

Draco laughed harder. Harry and Ron exchanged another look, this one clearly telling Draco they thought his sanity had jumped off the cliff. "Oh, you were scaring me there for a minute."

"So ... that's a ... no, then?" said Ron.

"Merlin, yes. No, I'm not pining away for Pansy." He chuckled again. "Why?"

"You're sure? Completely sure?"

"Yes, Ron, I'm entirely sure. Any and all infatuation I might have had for the girl was gone before fifth year started." Draco crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, enjoying Ron's discomfort. "Now, tell me. Why do you ask?"

Ron seemed somehow more relaxed and more nervous than he had been. "I, well, we had a nice time."

Draco was pleased; listening to the niggling had yielded results. "You like her."

Ron squirmed. "Is that okay?"

Draco studied him. "Why ask me? Shouldn't you be asking her?"

"I plan on getting to that, but first I needed to know you wouldn't rip my arm out if I was interested in her."

"Well, I'm feeling generous right now. After all you made me a s'more. So I won't rip your arm out tonight." Draco paused. For some reason he couldn't identify, he liked the idea of Ron with Pansy. Ron was easy-going, Pansy a bit high strung. Ron was good natured and trustworthy, whereas Pansy was often too trusting with men. She jumped with both feet, never cautious enough. She needed someone who would catch her, keep her from falling flat on her face, and then jump with her.

"Incidentally," Draco said, interrupting Harry and Ron's conversation. "Why do you like her?"

Ron exhaled nervously. "Uhm, I mean, I saw her last night, but we talked for about four hours after the game. We went to a coffee shop, and the hours just passed. She's funny and she laughs so easily."

Yeah, Draco knew about laughter.

"And she's beautiful," Ron added, a far-away look in his eye; Draco smiled. "She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He looked at Draco. "So, it's okay with you?"

"Weasley, two things. One, you don't need my permission to go after Pansy. The very idea is absurd. And two, even if for some reason you did need my permission, if I said no, you should have the guts to go for her anyway if you really like her." He wanted Ron to really like her. Because Pansy was a special girl and she deserved attention and affection from a decent bloke.

"Just say yes, please? I don't want you getting upset with me if you see us together and suddenly remember that you do love her."

"Ron, I don't like Pansy that way. I never will. I wish you all the best in your pursuit. Okay?"

"But – "

"You're not getting me to say those words. But understand this, Weasley. If you hurt her, then I will rip your arms off. And make you eat them. Clear?"

Ron nodded, and Harry smiled.

"Good. Now let me give you some advice about Pansy. Don't fall quickly." Both Ron and Harry looked at him with puzzled expressions. "You're right, Pansy is beautiful. And she knows people know it. Most guys are just in it for that. Don't be like that. Play hard to get, even. She's a smart girl, though you'd never know it because she doesn't need to be to get attention. But if you make her feel smart, and challenge her, and show her you actually care about her, you will win her faster than Hermione can look something up in a book." Draco popped another bean into his mouth. Day-old gum; ick. He spat it out, and then took a sip of his ale.

"That's really good advice, Malfoy," said Harry, eyeing him with something that surprisingly looked to Draco like suspicion. He shrugged, keeping his eyes locked on Harry's. "I thought you claimed to be unfit for such things, yet here you give Ron actual, real, useful, honest advice about a friend of yours. What gives?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Pansy is a family friend; I've known her most of my life, and though I wouldn't count her among my closest companions, she and I are close. We understand each other. She tells me about the things that happen in her life, including...sometimes to my frustration...every detail about every guy she's ever dated. Even through the War, she managed to find ways to get her heart trampled. And after she disappeared, I still heard from her, still heard about what she was up to. And I hate every single guy who's hurt her. I don't want to have to hate you, Weasley, after all those years of hating you."

Ron smiled. "Thanks, mate. I'll definitely remember that. Only ..." He frowned. "I don't know a thing about playing hard to get."

Draco laughed. "Just don't let her know right away that you're interested. And after you do let her know, only let her think you're a little interested. Slowly show your growing interest, and finally, if you fall for her, let her know. But treat her like she deserves. Merlin, I'd love to see her happy finally."

Ron glanced at Harry, then looked back at Draco, an entirely different expression on his face. He was no longer nervous and questioning, but determined. "She asked about you, you know."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, you mentioned that."

"She asked if you were seeing anybody."

He snorted. "That's a laugh."

"Is it?" asked Harry, a little too forcefully for casual conversation.

Draco frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What about Hermione?" Harry said.

Draco's heart dropped into his gut and started convulsing. Rapidly. Painfully almost. He had to blink to keep from blurting something out right away. Then he had to remember to breathe. Breathe, Draco, breathe.

"What about her?" he finally managed, sounding just a little bit too nonchalant for his own ears.

"You tell us," said Ron.

He mastered himself with great internal, invisible effort. "There's nothing to tell."

"You two have been spending an awful lot of time together over the last couple of months."

"Have not," Draco replied quickly.

"Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too," said Ron, joining the battle.

"Not."

"Too," said Ron.

"Yes, you have," said Harry, matter-of-factly. "I mean, we're around Hermione a lot. We know, you know. She talks about you all the time, about what you two do."

"Yeah, like you took her to a Quidditch game. Quidditch! Hermione! It's almost laughable, but she talks about it like it was the best thing in the world," supplied Ron.

"And she took you to the airport, and you both spent the entire day flying back and forth between London and Belfast," said Harry.

"And then you took her to see some Muggle shows. What was it, Harry? Opla? Ballbet?"

"Opera," corrected Draco absently. "And ballet."

"And what about the time she took you to a football game? A Muggle sport! She said you liked it!"

"Or when you took her to some Muggle ball for your business?"

"That was required. I had to take someone, and she was the most obvious choice," Draco said, getting annoyed but also panicky. Had they really done all those things? How had he missed that? Was he really getting attached to her? He didn't think he wanted to; in fact, he was quite sure the last time he'd thought about it, he refused to think about it. But when was that? He couldn't even remember the last time he refused to think about her. And when did all this start?

With the paint, came the voice in his head. Oh yeah. That day. He remembered holding her tightly to him, getting paint all over her. She hadn't looked up at him, but he could feel not just one, but two hearts pounding. Pounding like a bass drum he'd seen when he took her to the symphony.

After that day, things had just – moved. Neither of them talked about it, but they started doing things together. At first, they were little things. She showed him her favorite coffee shop; he took her to his favorite bench in the park downtown. She took him to her favorite ice cream parlor; he took her out to his favorite restaurant. Just because it was nearly 100 Galleons per plate didn't mean anything, it was still his favorite restaurant, and he was just reciprocating.

That's how it had started, and that's how it went. The things they shared had escalated into symphonies and airports, but it didn't mean anything else had escalated. There had been nothing to start with, he told himself. He tried to pound it into his brain every time he dropped her off at her place, every time their arms touched during a performance, or when she laughed that laugh when she watched him watch the airplanes take off and land. For hours.

He remembered the way she had patiently sat through that Quidditch game, trying, really trying to see what he saw. She had said she wanted to see it, and she'd tried before, but never saw it. After the game, the look on her face told him she didn't get her wish. Then she had dragged him to a "shopping center" and forced him to look at clothes in shops that were inside. He'd found it just plain bizarre, but kept his mouth shut, not wanting to ruin her obvious glee.

He had never once stopped to think about what it might look like to everyone else. He didn't want to think about how it looked, because he knew. When he was least expecting it...in the shower, at his desk, in a meeting...he'd get a shiver that ran all the way through him, and he would smile and think of her. He just couldn't think the words in his mind, couldn't form the sentence. If he did, he would be forced to try and do the honorable thing and push her away, to keep her at a respectable distance.

There was nothing else he could do; he knew himself. But he didn't want to do that, he didn't want to push her away. It was amazing to think that someone actually got him. And she did, she really did.

He also had never bothered to think about what it might look like to her. Because he knew she was smarter than that. He knew she wouldn't let herself become interested in him. Too smart. She would stop that train before it picked up too much steam. She wouldn't allow herself to think about him beyond what they were, because she would know that she would never let that happen. Ever. Draco was counting on her to keep the line between them bold and unchanging. Merlin knew, he didn't trust himself not to do something stupid.

" – and the time you sent her a box of sugar quills from Honeydukes."

Draco blinked, Harry's and Ron's voices breaking through his hazy thoughts. Were they still going on with this?

" – and the time she – "

"Stop it, all right?" Draco interjected. "I get it. I hear you. I understand what you're saying. But listen to me now. There is nothing going on between us. We are friends. I happen to like that we're friends. Okay?"

They exchanged a look that clearly said they weren't buying it. Not for one fraction of a second. "Malfoy, do we look stupid to you?"

He bit his tongue nearly to the point of bleeding to keep himself from answering that question. "Ow," he cried when he'd pressed too hard, and the temptation passed. "I don't really care what you believe. You asked. I'm telling. Do what you wish with the information."

Harry opened his mouth to say something more, but Draco cut him off. "End of discussion, Potter. Now. Let's get to this camping stuff, shall we?"

ooo

"Ready?" she asked.

He looked at the ridiculous contraption in front of him and swallowed hard. It was too late to back out now, though; he knew that. There was a strong bar across his legs and another one that came over his shoulders. And they'd left their wands in a locker so they wouldn't get broken. So there was no way out.

He knew that.

But as the sky loomed ever nearer every second, a small part of him remembered that he could still Apparate off this thing. He turned to Hermione to tell her of his revelation, but he saw that she had a ridiculously huge grin on her face and a definite sparkle in her eye. Then he saw her raise her hands over her head and shout with joy. Pure and utter joy.

Draco turned around to face the front. He really shouldn't have. Now all he saw was the sky and before he had time to think, they went over. Hermione was screaming beside him and he felt like he'd left his stomach at the top. The wind rushed past, and they went through loops, and spirals, and twists, and all manner of impossible moves, and in a mere 87 seconds it was over.

"Well?" she asked, pushing the now movable metal bars off her.

He was still catching his breath, unsure if he could trust his legs to support him, and slowly followed her example. Once on solid ground and convinced he could remain upright, he looked at the car they were just in, and the small track the car followed. Amazing, these Muggles.

"It was incredible," he said, grinning ridiculously now too.

"Yeah?" she said, excitedly. "Want to go again?"

"Is Trelawny a crazy bat?"

She hopped a little, gave a small clap, then reached out and grabbed his hand. She proceeded to drag him all the way out of the ride, then back to the long line where they would wait another 30 minutes for an 87 second ride.

"Your people are genius, I think," he said, sitting on the railing.

"My people?"

"Muggles. I mean, I've never seen anything like this thing, this – what did you call it?"

"Roller coaster."

"Yeah, right. Ruddy brilliant."

They rode the coaster a total of eight times, which took the entire afternoon. After the eighth time they both agreed that their stomachs refused to allow a ninth.

They collected their things from the locker and made their way to the exit. It was nice that they hadn't had to pay, since they only spent half a day in the park, and only rode one ride. Hermione always got a kick out of standing at ticket booths and waving her hand and saying, "You don't need our money. Move along." He didn't get it, but she was so adorable every time she giggled to herself after she was handed tickets that he didn't care.

As they walked through the mass of people, Hermione suddenly stopped and he almost ran in to her. "Ooh, stay here," she said.

Draco nodded and pointed to a bench nearby. Hermione grinned and then took off through the throng of people, and he lost sight of her. He found a bench near that spot to sit and wait and noticed that more than one girl looked him over with satisfaction. He merely smirked in return, silently wishing they would stay away, and they did, mostly, but one girl came over and sat right next to him.

She started flirting with him. Draco didn't say much at first, hoping the girl would get the hint and leave. She didn't; she even touched his arm...the flawed arm...and Draco winced. He had once been quite adept at the art of flirting and had to consciously avoid returning in kind. He had no desire to flirt with a girl he didn't even know...a girl who wasn't Hermione (even though he never flirted with her)...but it was like second nature, an almost automatic response. It was a lot like learning to ride a broom – you never really forget how. There was an entire gene in the Malfoy strand that was dedicated to wooing the opposite sex.

Then Hermione returned in a blur and sat on his lap, offering him a lick of her ice cream and smiling at him in a way she never had before. Like he was both in trouble and highly delicious at the same time. His blood went cold at that smile. The other girl glared at Hermione and left to rejoin her friends.

Without a word, Hermione moved to sit beside him on the bench and produced, as if by magic, a dish of ice cream for him. Chocolate chunk; his favorite. With chocolate syrup and sprinkles. Obscene amount of time indeed; she knew his most intimate ice cream preferences.

But she glared at him and took a bite of her own ice cream.

"Butterscotch?" he asked, taking a spoonful of his.

She frowned and nodded, and licked her spoon clean. He knew she was upset and refused to let himself think about the myriad possible reasons. She was smart, remember? She knew better than to ... well, she just did. He didn't need to think about it. She'd think about it enough for four of them. They ate their ice cream in a silence so full of nothing it seemed deafening.

Then they sat there. Draco knew she wanted to say something, and so did not force her into action. He figured she was deciding between biting his head off, sulking, or just leaving him there. He half hoped she'd just leave, so he could avoid her yelling at him. He was never good in actual fighting, especially with people he cared about. He usually found his tongue oddly tied.

"I don't think we should go to that concert tomorrow," Hermione finally said. "I have so much to do for work, and it's really been piling up because I've been neglecting it, and I could really use the time to get caught up."

He really wished she'd just left him sitting there. Probably torture would have been preferable. Even the Cruciatus. Probably.

He shrugged as if he didn't care. Because he didn't. Intellectually. "Okay," he said casually. She had done it, put the rapidly growing space between them. His first reaction was to widen the gulf, run into the corner and lick his wounds and snap at approaching fingers. And then to nail it down he said, "I'm sure I can find someone to go with. Maybe Pansy."

She offered no visible reaction, which annoyed him to no end. It was supposed to be her turn to poke and needle.

He was surprised at how quickly his anger had materialized. One moment they were walking through the park, their arms brushing when one of them was jostled by the pressing crowd sending heat shooting through his arm. The next, she was breaking off something they were supposed to do together. She had never done that in all the months they'd been... whatever they were. So it told him something. She was upset...very upset. It couldn't have been only because she'd seen him flirting. It couldn't.

Then she looked at him, peered searchingly into his eyes, and he was nearly undone. Nearly, but she looked away just in time.

"She'd like it," Hermione said, taking a careful bite of ice cream. "But I doubt Ron will let her out of his sight on a Friday night."

Draco smirked, because he knew better. Ron wouldn't want to let her go, but he would. Ron was falling for Pansy, but he'd taken Draco's advice and hadn't let on about it. Ron wouldn't be overly possessive; therefore, Draco would be free to go with Pansy. If he wanted to, which he still hadn't decided. Maybe a date with a gallon of Ogden's Finest was more in order.

At least Pansy's letters were much happier now, though she only occasionally mentioned Ron. That pleased Draco. It meant Pansy was falling too, and Ron really was treating her right.

"He will," he said. "It's me, after all."

She muttered something that sounded like "insufferable git," but maybe he misheard her.

"Sorry?" he said innocently. "I missed that." There must have been a special switch when it came to her. He was sniping at her like he hadn't done in years.

"Well, have fun," she said, trying hard not to show her annoyance.

"I will. I mean, I'm going for the music, after all." Twist. He knew she would make the connection that would imply he hadn't asked her to go because he wanted her to go. Just someone. And he really couldn't answer why he wanted to hurt her just then. Except, maybe it was because she'd hurt him ... she'd hurt him, he hurt her ... it all evened out.

Her jaw tightened, but she didn't respond.

"Well, it's nearly dinner. And I have guests coming." He stood, anxious to get away from Hermione and that look she kept sending him, like he was less than scum. And honestly, what had he done to deserve that? If she wasn't going to tell him, which obviously she wasn't, he saw no reason to be pleasant. She knew that he knew that she was upset. So it was all on her right now, because she also knew he wouldn't ask about it.

She stood too and huffed. "Of course. Wouldn't want you to be late to your precious dinner." They walked in that odd silence to an empty, out-of-the-way spot, and then with only a look exchanged, Disapparated.

ooo

Draco woke the next morning with that feeling in the pit of his gut. He was growing increasingly familiar with the feeling that compelled him to jump. He didn't fight it.

It was a grey morning at the cliff, and he knew it would probably storm. He loved watching a storm blow in from the sea, a wild, tempestuous, yet orderly natural phenomenon.

A cool wind blew, and he heard his mother's words.

"... change your world ... love a witch ... I won't see you marry ... I love you, son ..."

He missed their few moments together and wished she were there to talk to him now, to help him through this mess. Then again, this mess was largely her fault. Narcissa had put her into his mind, and his thoughts. And then she had wiggled her way into his life and his heart. Then turned and stomped on it as if it were a bug.

He shivered as a sharp wind blew through his hair. Better go now, before it rains.

So he did.

He waited three seconds before setting his broom under him. He'd set his wand again and it took over half a second to stop falling. Crucial. His calculations had suggested it would take nearly one full second to completely stop if he waited six seconds to right himself, which would result in his untimely death. Five and a half seconds was the maximum time he could wait before getting on his broom.

And none of this accounted for him calling his broom to him. That would take time too. And more figuring. He'd get to that once he'd fallen for the full five and a half seconds. One thing at a time. He didn't feel the burst of life he usually felt when he jumped, and he decided it was because of Hermione. Because he wouldn't be seeing her today. And if his theory held true of their up and down relationship, he wouldn't see her for awhile.

ooo

"Hey, kid."

"Draco!" Pansy stood from her chair and flung her arms around him tightly.

He hugged her back and then pulled away, pushing her chair in for her when she sat. He took the place opposite her.

"Hi, Pansy."

They met in Diagon Alley at an upscale café for lunch. Pansy had recently 'been moved to give England another try,' and had taken a room with the Potters until she found somewhere suitable to live. It was the first chance he'd had to see her.

She gave him a giant smile. "I've missed you."

He smirked. "Can't get enough of me. I knew my incredible wit and these stunning good looks were really a curse."

"Oh, stop it. You're terrible. And quite full of yourself." She gave him a heartfelt smile. "It's good to see that some things don't change."

"How are you?"

"I'm wonderful," she said happily. "I simply must tell you. I'm crazy for someone."

He rolled his eyes. "Already? I haven't even opened the menu. Can't this wait until we've got our food?"

She dismissed his comments with a flourish of her hand. "Of course not. This could take a while."

"Naturally," he said with a grin.

The waiter came then and took their orders.

"So, who is he? Who am I going to have to beat to a pulp now?"

"Draco! Be nice! With any luck you won't have to feel violent thoughts toward this one."

"Okay, you're right. Go on, please."

She looked at him nervously, fidgeting with her napkin. "Ron Weasley."

He arched an eyebrow. "Weasley? Really? I mean, I knew you two saw each other here and there, but you really like him?"

"Oh, Draco, I do!" she said. And it was just the way she said it, but it reminded him of Pansy as a little girl, when she'd gotten her first 'grown-up' party dress. She was ten, and innocent, and her eyes full of wonder at the world. The years full of blood and death and hate had taken it away from her, but he saw it again, then.

"He's unlike anyone else I've ever known," she continued. "He's sweet, and kind, and everything I've never had."

Draco took a sip of water and looked at her pointedly. "And does he feel the same?"

She squirmed in her seat. "I don't actually know."

He smiled. "Pansy, my dear, this will be a good thing for you."

She smiled like a million Galleons and then proceeded to talk about Ron for the entire meal. Draco listened, laughed, and smiled as he was supposed to, but very little of her news was actually new. He'd heard a lot of it from Ron, but enjoyed hearing her side too. She provided infinitely more details...a drawback offset by her glowing smile. It was nice to know she was enjoying being with Ron just as much as Ron was enjoying being with her.

When the waiter cleared their plates, Draco thought he was free, that Pansy had somehow, miraculously, forgotten to ask anything about him. Then she wanted dessert. He should have known.

Halfway through, she looked about to burst.

"What is it?" Draco asked with a resigned sigh.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, Pansy."

"What are you up to these days?"

"Oh, business as usual."

Her eyes sparkled as she reached the crux of her inquiries. "Any significant witches in your life?"

"Just you, love," he said so quickly it sounded rehearsed. As if he'd been anticipating her question.

She giggled, but her gaze remained firmly set on him. "How was your concert two weeks ago?" she asked, casually taking a bite of her cake.

Bugger. She knew something. And she was fishing.

"Didn't go," he said indifferently.

"What? Why not? I thought you loved that group."

He shrugged. "Lost interest."

She took another bite and peered at him over her empty fork. "I saw Hermione yesterday."

He blinked.

Bugger. She knew his blinks, and she only raised one eyebrow. She either knew something, or wanted something, or both.

"And?" he said.

"She asked about some concert," Pansy said, taking a bite of her Crème Brule. "Only she was shocked to learn I knew nothing about it. Do tell, Draco. What happened?"

He knew she wouldn't rest until she got an answer she deemed satisfactory, and he also knew just how long her patience could last. He exhaled sharply. "She got mad at me for some reason and said she didn't want to go with me after all. I told her I'd ask you, but then I didn't want to go anymore."

"What did you do?" she asked in an accusing tone, frowning severely.

"Me?" he said incredulously. "I ... have an idea, but it's just that, and it's absurd."

She studied him for a moment, then resumed eating. "You could try and find it out."

"Why bother? You know I'm not going to apologize, or try and fix things."

"Why not?"

"Because I know I didn't do anything. Not worthy of the silent treatment she's been giving me for over two weeks. I am capable of knowing when I've done something wrong, and I didn't do anything wrong here. So I won't need to apologize once I learn why she got all bent out of shape. She should apologize for getting angry."

She gave him a look that clearly said that she didn't believe him for half a second, but she didn't say anything right away. When she spoke it was very casual, yet probing. "What's going on with you two?"

He freaking blinked again. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Is that the problem, then?"

He looked at her, deflated. "No, Pansy."

"Do you like her?"

Ah, the sixty-four thousand Galleon question. He liked her so much he couldn't stand her. Or himself. He could spend every single day ranting about why he didn't like her, but at the end of the day, her smile would melt him. Burn him. Inside out. And since today didn't work, he would just have to try and convince himself tomorrow. Lather; rinse; repeat.

Only he didn't want to like her. And despite all the changes in his life, despite turning to the light side, he was still and always would be a Malfoy. He couldn't get new blood. Or a new life. Or a different childhood. All he got was a second chance at the hand he'd been dealt. But he was still himself. And his mother had twisted his mind with her knowing eyes and seemingly harmless words. Or maybe, he'd twisted his own mind over her words.

He could pretend that the three months he'd spent with Hermione, seeing her nearly every single day, hadn't affected him. That knowing her, and knowing she really got him, didn't matter. Of course, he had been affected, and it did matter. More than anything. But he'd be declared a holy saint before he went willingly. No, it would be screaming, and ranting, and kicking, biting, pinching, and twisting that would finally win him to her. After that, he'd be all hers. If she wanted him, of course.

She was making it easy on him now, avoiding him and openly hating him. He didn't have to kick and scream and push her away; she wasn't pulling. He didn't want her anyway.

Except that he did.

So much so that now it was painful. When she had cancelled on him, he'd known it was the start of something new; he just hadn't known it was the end of whatever they had.

Draco's mind was in a state of constant warfare. One side wanted him to give up the fight and admit his feelings; the other side completely refused to even think about it. That side understood that he wasn't cut out for a relationship...not at this point in his life, anyway. That side also understood that Hermione deserved absolutely the best he could offer...the best anyone could possibly hope to give...and he couldn't give that to her. He wasn't even sure what his best was.

In the latest battle, she had cast the final blow, inflicting a grievous wound and causing the opposing sides of his mind to temporarily band together. And the ultimate loser, the lightning part of his heart, was waiting to be healed, begging for him to make things right with her. He wasn't helping it; he wasn't anxious for the healing.

The pain meant that he could feel, something he'd wondered about since he was sixteen, and it was good to know he could, even if he only felt pain. Because the pain was from the loss of the warmth she put into his life.

"No," he said solidly, firmly, meeting her gaze and holding it. He didn't like her because he chose not to. When she was light-years away, after essentially rejecting him, he could easily choose not to like her.

"Really?" Pansy asked, obviously surprised.

"Really."

"She's the only girl who'll have you, you know."

He scowled. "Thanks, Pansy. Really nice," he said sarcastically.

"I mean it, Draco. No one else would put up with your – oddities – like she would. No one else will call you out when you're spouting rubbish. No one else will make you as angry but also as happy as she will." Almost on the breeze, he heard what she didn't say. She'll change your world.

He suddenly felt heavy. Like his mother was speaking through Pansy, only he didn't want to listen, couldn't listen.

"Pansy," he started.

"Draco, I think it's time you fell hopelessly and madly in love with someone. Just imagine the odd extremes you'd go to, the things you would do for her. Almost makes me wish it were me." She smiled at his shocked expression. "Almost. Something tells me Ron will treat me better than you ever could. He feels with every part of him. So nauseatingly Gryffindor of him, but alarmingly wonderful at the same time. You should try it, Draco. Really."

"Uh-huh." He sighed. "I can't, Pansy. I can't – do that. Fall in love. Any of that."

"Why not? Why not take the plunge? Fall in love with someone, Draco! It doesn't even have to be Hermione. Just someone. You've been alone for so long."

"I'm not ready."

"Sure you are!"

"I ... I know I won't...can't...fall in love with anyone except Hermione."

Pansy gasped and her eyes went wide.

He grimaced and gave Pansy a defeated look. "And I'm not ready to fall hopelessly, madly in love with the only girl who'll have me."

ooo

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This is all for fun.

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience and for reading! Oodles of thanks to my betas, Z, and eilonwy. Endless thanks and appreciation for helping to make this story so much better!

As always, the beautiful banner was made by the lovely moonjameskitten!