To Play with Fire

Disclaimer: I own only plot and the pleasure of writing. All hail J.K.Rowling!


Chapter 4

To Have Blood on Your Knuckles


Pansy was sulking. Her plan had backfired on her and it seemed that the only person benefiting was Hermione Granger and possibly Blaise. She gave out a high-pitched whine. The other girls in the room hurried to hug, pamper and mother her with anything and everything. Pansy was having her monthlies for the third day and all kinds of aches were wreaking her poor head and stomach. Her body hurt and her soul hurt and she was so, so miserable. If anyone knew how she suffered! Oh, poor, poor Pansy!


The day after Hogsmead

She had made it her goal to be the first to tell him. The next day after the first date she was constantly looking for a good opportunity. In the evening at about eight o'clock she decided to strike. It was a perfect moment - the common room was packed with third- and fifth-years, Draco was sitting behind his homework, Crabbe and Goyle were trying to do theirs, while munching at some muffins, Daphne was demonstrating her new skirt and shoes to the girls. The last ones were sure to spread the gossip after witnessing the drama that was about to happen.

“Hey, Drakey, you know what Blaise did yesterday?” She knew he didn't like it, when she called him that. He ignored her. She was expecting it and continued, “He got himself a girlfriend.”

“So?” His voice had been disinterested and he continued to write but Pansy knew that his interest was actually peaked because his hand had made a brief pause.

Pansy smiled and continued in a sing-song voice, “A Gryffindor and a mudblood.” She paused to gauge his reaction. Indeed, Draco's left eyebrow furrowed though he still persisted in filling his parchment. Pansy was quite sure he had no idea what he was writing. “They went to Madam Puddifoot's and he asked her there. Daphne saw her when they returned. She was so happy, her hair was even wilder than usually, wasn't it D?” Daphne gave an affirmative nod and stepped closer. She probably knew from Pansy's body language, that something potentially scandalous was going on.

Draco finally put the quill aside, “Spit it out, you know, you're dying to tell me who the poor girl is, Pans.”

Pansy blinked, he didn't sound agitated or jealous, he sounded impatient. So he didn't get it yet, did he? “It's your precious Granger, your project girl!” Pansy gave him a triumphant smile and was ready to plunge into a full daunting but Draco just shrugged.

“Really? What a funny taste he has,” Draco calmly took the quill and resumed writing.
Pansy was flabbergasted. She was so surprised that she suddenly couldn't think of anything to say.

The present


The whole ordeal had been for nothing! She had given up the opportunity to be with the most sought after Slytherin (actually he was the second after Draco Malfoy but the blond was beneath Pansy's notice now) for this and Draco refused to play along! She had been so sure, Draco would throw a fit! He always did when something was not to his liking and now no reaction at all!

He had been panting for the mudblood for days! How could he be so calm now? Unless he had already known... But how could that be, he clearly had not known anything when she had first started to talk about it. She must have misjudged the depth of his interest! Or maybe it had lasted only for a couple of days and had already been dissipated by the time she'd set her plan in motion.

How grossly she had miscalculated! It had been days now that she'd been trying to get a raise out of him again and again, but Draco remained unresponsive to her taunts. She'd been telling him where Blaise took Hermione, what they had been doing, where she or someone else had seen them and what they were doing at the time, so on and so on. Sometimes she had even made things up to make them look like a real pair, romantic and blissfully in love, but nothing worked.

Pansy gave up. Her aches forgotten she jumped off the bed in search for Blaise, leaving the girls who had just moments ago been fussing over her, huffing in indignation at such display of duplicity.


* * *


The feeling of walking into a trap was nagging at him but he squashed it.

He remembered that moment very well. It was in the library where it was still in his power to stop. To stop himself from liking her. She had asked him if he wanted to do a project with her. And he had said 'yes'.

He wished he could take it back. Damn it! Damn everything!

He slammed his fist into the headboard again. He wasn't quite sure why he was so angry, because nothing was really wrong, now was it? Hermione was with Blaise, so what? It wasn't like he was interested in her and he was not worried for her because Zabini was one hell of a player. Granger must have known, what she had gotten herself into.

But she was in love with him!

So? He nursed his aching fist. She would get over it. They'd play a little, get tired of each other and split. Right?

Wrong! Hermione didn't do casual relationships. Draco was sure of it.

He was now lying face down on the bed instead of sitting but felt no better. It had been a week since he had been before the Death Eater Council. A week since he'd decided to turn a new leaf and this was his award? Merlin! Pansy was one pain in the neck. He was sure she was being nasty to him on purpose even though Draco could not understand how she had found out about his personal lust-fest for Granger. Had he been so transparent, that the school's silliest girl had seen right through him? Who else knew then?

He thought of the night she had told him. He had been working on an essay when she had started chatting away at him. The moment she'd said 'a Gryffindor and a mudblood' he had known. The world had started going round and round and all he could do, was to stay as still as he could, quill moving on the parchment of it's own volition, taking down Merlin knew what. Then the whirling stopped, the world came into focus and he had asked her to spit it out. Just say it, please, say it! He had managed not to say it that way though. He was thanking his father now, for the harsh lessons in proper behaviour. Feelings were a weakness not to be displayed.

Pansy had been torturing him constantly since then. And it was not only her, it seemed that other people were constantly discussing the pair too. He heard at least twice a day about where they had been spotted snogging and some kept even bets running where would be the next sighting of the hot couple... coupling. Draco even saw them himself a once or twice, and he did make it a point, not to wander too much around the castle these days.

The thought of them together made him see red every time. Literally. Damn Zabini! Sodding... sodding... Granger! Draco slammed his fist into the side of the bed this time.

“Ow!”

The wood was as hard there as the headboard's. He was sure he'd be able to conquer this silly feeling if he weren't reminded constantly about it. He wanted to throttle her. Pansy or Hermione, he wasn't sure which. Probably both.

He tossed around and ended up on his back. The ceiling of the post bed wasn't much more interesting this time than it was the last he'd been staring at it. He didn't understand what he was so upset about. It wasn't as if he were ever going to make a move on her. He fancied her a little bit, sure, he was ready to admit that, but he had never taken it seriously. It was normal for him to crush on a random girl from time to time. So what if it was one Hermione Granger? A mud... a muggle-born? So what if until recently a mere like would have been impossible. Things changed.

Oh boy, how quickly things changed! In the course of two weeks he had stopped being an obedient little Malfoy for his father and a blind puppet on a string for The Dark Lord. Instead, he had become a blood traitor to most of his social circle. Draco suddenly felt lonely. He sighed and buried his face in his hands.

Still, he felt as if had done the right decision by changing sides - albeit he was the only one who knew. Of course, it was also a frightening thing to have done – what if they found out, what if he was captured or worse, what if they got his parents? He hoped that he could somehow get his mother to safety before his alliance would be revealed. He would write to her shortly.

Draco's beaten hand started to shake. He took his wand and tried a healing spell. He should be able to do it, he knew. He'd done it plenty of times before, but no, he was not successful. Damn! He nursed the fist to his chest. He would not go to the hospital wing if at all possible, it would have to heal naturally. Because what would he say? 'I fought with my bed and lost'? Maybe he'd wait after the next Quidditch practice.

He looked at his time-piece - it was three in the morning and he had yet to fall asleep. Well, no surprise visit from a dream fairy tonight, huh? He had the full day of lectures ahead of him and Runes and Potions in the afternoon were both challenging classes. Hermione would be there and he would not be in his top form... Draco felt defeated.


* * *


Harry did not like Potions. He liked Snape the least of the whole wizarding, and probably even human, population but even with another teacher the subject would still be too Slytherin for him. Harry liked things straightforward, like DADA, and Potions seemed to be kind of too disingenuous to him. Well except when it was making healing potions, of course, but the “ensnaring the senses” and “bewitching the mind” part did not capture his fancy at all. For him there was an air of calculated malice about it. No wonder Malfoy was so good at the subject.

Which reminded him, that he'd promised himself to observe the git. At the moment the blond was hissing at Goyle, who was his Potions partner. It never ceased to amaze Harry that the oaf (and the other poor sod, Crabbe, too) usually took Malfoy's scolding as his due. Probably they deserved it for the most part and now Goyle at least tried to chop the greens as directed. Harry smirked.

All this sudden change from being an Evil Lucius Clone to a decent bloke (for a Slytherin) seemed highly suspicious to Harry. Hermione seemed to agree outwardly but he was still worried. Harry hadn't seen them together a lot but what he had seen made him think that Hermione might actually like the ferret on some level. So Harry was strangely relieved when Hermione started dating Zabini. It was surprising though, that a Slytherin would want to date her.

On the other hand Blaise was generally liked by representatives of all houses and didn’t seem to be as single-minded as most Slytherins. If Harry himself had done the sorting he’d actually have placed Blaise in Ravenclaw. Maybe it had been a close call for The Hat? Though even as a Ravenclaw Blaise wouldn't have been Harry's first choice for Hermione and the “if you hurt her...” speech was duly given by Ron and himself early on. But it wasn't the worse choice she could have made either.

Besides, the Italian might know things - he moved in the Death Eater circles and was actually friendly with Malfoy. But on the other hand, these were the same reasons Blaise could also be distrusted for. Harry glanced behind him where Zabini was working with Parkinson and frowned. Pansy was giggling and Blaise was smiling as if... The more Harry saw the less he liked it. It seemed as if Pansy was actually flirting – didn't she know Zabini was taken? The whole pity he felt towards her, after the poor treatment she had received on Malfoy's hands, dissipated.

The soft clink was heard on his left, so Harry turned to see what had happened.

“Ouch, sorry, Draco, I'm so sorry!” Draco was clutching his left forearm with his right hand and Goyle was apologising in a low voice.

“Shut your gob, idiot!” Malfoy said in a quiet and dull voice. His face was revealing absolutely nothing but his hand was still shaking.

“Sorry, I didn't think I slammed it so hard.” Greg was holding a middle-sized iron scales in his hand.

“You didn't.” Harry saw Draco hid his hand into his pocket, “Don't worry about it.” His voice was still quiet as if he wanted the incident to attract as little attention as possible.

How odd, Harry thought. Malfoy was in habit of milking all his injuries for what it was worth and then some. Then it hit him – Malfoy was clutching his left hand! In fact, he was holding it where the mark would be if he had one. He does have one! It would have to be quite fresh to hurt like that. Since the Hogsmead day maybe? Unless... Harry glanced around the room to find Snape but he was probably in the back room at the moment.

A minute later the professor strode in back into the room, sat behind his table and took some parchments out of the drawer. Presumably students' papers to be checked. He looked at them for some seconds and then spoke up, “Mr. Malfoy, would you come here, please?”

Harry tried desperately to listen in but the voices were hushed and students in front of Harry decided to start an argument about the correct sequence of the ingredients at the same moment. Both Slytherins looked serious but calm. Very soon Malfoy went back to his desk and resumed working on his potion. Thankfully Goyle had managed fine on his own. Harry was anxious to see if Snape and Draco would find an excuse to leave the class – in case Voldemort had been summoning them – but nothing interesting happened.

Harry had even trailed to the dungeons behind Malfoy to see if he would try to leave the castle. Later Malfoy went to the library and as Hermione went there too, Harry supposed that it was their project time. He spied after the Slytherin via the Marauder’s Map, until he fell asleep at about one am.


* * *


Draco entered the library again. He had not really wanted to come. He always looked forward to the meeting right until about half an hour before the appointed time when he started to resent it. And then he saw Hermione which changed everything. He was her sitting there, behind the table, reading a book, or coming in through the library doors, seeing him and smiling at him. Then he felt these butterflies start in his stomach and the wave of pure happiness run straight through him. Right until he saw the Italian Beauty trailing behind her, holding her hand or sitting beside her, his arm around her waist. And just like that all the light-headedness fled him and the already familiar feeling of angst began anew.

He looked around the library, she was not there yet. Draco sighed and headed for the shelf he knew he'd find the right book. When he got everything he needed, he sat down but he could not stay in one place for long. As he was alone in the room, he started pacing.

For a while now as he was feeling these confusing emotions, he kept telling himself that he was upset and anxious simply because he lusted after her. That was all there was to it. Now pacing in the mostly empty library he realised that the explanation did not hold a grain of truth. Nothing about his “lust” was simple. The butterflies and the heaviness alternated in a way that did finally register with him as a rather aggravating crush.

Bloody hell!

He stopped pacing. It might be even more serious than a crush. He recognised the symptoms. It might actually constitute as The Crush. He had had one of those two years ago. A beautiful, petite French girl in a picturesque Marseilles... Funny it had been Blaise that time too... It had been a pain to get over it. He had to admit it to himself – the cage door had shut so quietly, he hadn't even noticed and now he was trapped.

Draco sat behind the desk and opened a book. Hermione didn't need to know how anxious he was to see her. He was anxious, sad and excited – all at the same time. He was pathetic! Draco exhaled loudly.

Blaise dating Hermione had also ruined his Second Plan (the first was conjured to fulfil The Task from The Dark... from Voldemort, which was now abandoned). Because of the sodding Italian, he could not come out to The Trio. Most likely Hermione would tell everything to Blaise and he couldn't risk it.

No one knew what side The Git was on. Probably he wasn't an outright enemy, they had known each other for quite some time and spent several summers together. Besides, Zabinis were known to be on their own side for the most part but it also meant that Draco could be sold out at the first convenience. Theoretically. He had always trusted Zabini before...

No one but himself, and his mother maybe, would care if he were eviscerated and quartered. Zabini might not care too. Draco had contemplated going to the Headmaster for a moment but dismissed the idea. The old fool was rumoured to truly trust Snape still, so that was out of the question too. No, he was by himself. So what could he do to help the good guys win?

Why, the answer was pretty obvious – he'd have to share what he knew by allowing Hermione to spy on him, of course!


TBC