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Pansy was sitting in her seat beside Potter. It was their makeup seventh year and the new Transfiguration teacher had given them assigned seats. Pansy far preferred McGonagall, but she had gone on to be Headmistress and they were stuck with Professor What’s His Name. She couldn’t be bothered to learn it. When the professor said he’d be seating them in interhouse pairs, she hoped she’d be lucky enough to sit next to Granger. She wasn’t. So instead she watched from afar.
Granger was copying notes from the board. Her body curled over the desk as if she were trying to encircle it. The position made her hair fall into her face. A curtain of dark frizz. Pansy wanted to brush it back for her--perhaps braid it or slick it into a ponytail--or at least offer her an elastic. Then the girl ran a flustered hand from her forehead to the nape of her neck, effectively flipping the bushy hair out of her way.
“Beautiful,” Pansy whispered under her breath.
“Huh?” Potter asked ever-so-eloquently, eyes flicking to Pansy from where they rested on Draco--Granger’s table partner. Draco was taking copious notes as well. Pansy could almost make out his calligraphic scrawl from her seat.
“The studious ones are always the easiest to fall for, aren’t they? And the hardest to get over,” Pansy said, cocking her head in the direction of the two attentive students.
Potter blinked. “I don’t have a crush on Hermione if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Pansy snorted. “That’s not at all what I’m getting at. And anyways, Granger’s gay.”
Potter went as red as his Gryffindor tie. “Don’t say that about her.”
“Cool it, Golden Boy. It wasn’t an insult. But maybe that internalized homophobia is why you can’t see you have a crush on Draco.”
“Malfoy? Are you bonkers? Just because you think he’s the greatest thing on Earth doesn’t mean I have to.”
Pansy laughed then. “Potter, if you were paying any attention you’d know it’s Granger I like. Draco has a sharp wit but the wrong equipment.”
Potter looked as if he’d been slapped. “What?”
“Oh, shut your mouth. Like it’s that shocking.” She knew, however, that it was shocking because every person she’d come out to had said, “you’re too pretty to be gay”. Bullshit. As if her looks had anything to do with her desire to fuck girls. Or cuddle with them. Or whisper sweet nothings into their ears. Or--
Pansy had found she turned into a Hufflepuff when she got too caught up in her fantasies, so she effectively shut them off. It wouldn’t do to have her reputation ruined--even internally.
Pansy brushed aside her ridiculous musings. “Potter, I have a proposition for you.”
His gaze darkened. “No thanks. I don’t take propositions from Slytherins.”
“And I thought we were getting on so well,” Pansy said sweetly before dropping the sugary expression. “Give it a rest, will you? The war’s over. And we weren’t all Death Eaters.”
“You tried to turn me in to Voldemort,” Potter pointed out.
Pansy swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat. “Details, details. Just hear me out. You’re good friends with Granger, and I’m good friends with Draco. What do you say we work together to woo our love interests?”
“I have no interest in dating Mal--”
“Potter, you haven’t taken your eyes off him since he sat down. Actually, you had your eyes on him as he sat down as well.”
“That’s because--”
“Because you were checking out his arse. And you’re blushing like crazy--”
“I am not!”
“--WHICH, may I note, you did not do when you thought I was talking about Granger.”
“Only because--”
“What if I told you he likes you, too?”
Potter shut his mouth. He ran a hand through his unruly hair. It wasn’t as cute as when Granger did it. He bit his lip. “Fine. We can work together. But you can’t tell anyone about this.”
“Potter, who in Merlin’s name would I want to tell? It’s not like I’m proud of allying with a bloody Gryffindor.”
“Whatever. Just...keep it quiet.”
“Same, Scarhead.” The bell rung and the two went their separate ways.
x*x*X*x*x
“I just can’t believe Professor Limp-Cabbage had the nerve to sit me next to Goyle!” Ron complained as he stepped out of the classroom.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ron, you know that’s not the Professor’s name. And anyways, at least you aren’t stuck with Malfoy.”
Harry was kind of zoning out but tuned back in at the name. “It looked like Malfoy was minding his own business, unlike Parkinson. I wouldn’t have minded being in your place.”
Ron’s jaw dropped. “Mate, did you just say you wanted to sit with Malfoy?”
“Not instead of you guys! Or a Gryffindor. Just, you know, instead of the other snakes.”
Hermione pursed her lips. “You know, Pansy’s not so bad.”
Ron gaped. “On a first name basis now? Are you two snogging the Slytherins?” He shook his head and kept walking, unaware of how badly his friends were blushing at the accusation.
Hermione cleared her throat, the red melting off her cheeks. “I’m going to stop by the library before Charms.”
“I’ll come with you,” Harry said quickly.
Ron nodded at them. “I’ll pass. See you guys soon.” If either Harry or Hermione had been in a state of sanity, they would have questioned his actions--even if Ron wasn’t a fan of the library, he usually went with them when it was just a quick trip before class--but they weren’t, so neither took notice of the odd behavior.
Harry followed Hermione down the halls. She seemed to be walking much quicker than necessary.
“Can you believe Ron would suggest such a thing?” she asked. “How ridiculous. Snogging the Slytherins.”
When Parkinson originally told him about Hermione, Harry was sure she was wrong. Now he was almost certain of the opposite. Hermione was still ranting when they wandered deep into the library. Harry coughed when a cloud of dust billowed around his face.
“Hermione, why did you break things off with Ron?”
She looked up in surprise. “Because he’s immature, and I see him too much like a brother.” The response was robotic. Practiced.
Harry took a breath. “So it’s not because you’re gay?”
Hermione sputtered. “I--no--of course not--why would you--”
“The way you spoke of Parkinson. It’s the same way I talk about Malfoy.”
Hermione’s mouth snapped shut. “You mean...?” When Harry nodded, she slapped him on the arm. “Harry! You’re supposed to be the oblivious one.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Sorry, ‘Mione.”
And then she was grinning too. “You know, you always were a little obsessive when it came to Malfoy.”
“I know. I just didn’t realize why until now.”
Hermione nodded, biting her lip. “Do you think maybe we could keep this from Ron for a little while?”
Harry smiled. “That’s probably a good idea.”
Hermione squeezed his arm lightly. “Come on. Let’s get to class.”
x*x*X*x*x
“It worked,” Pansy told Draco as they exited the classroom. Draco was organizing his notes.
“Hmm?” he said disinterestedly.
“Potter,” Pansy drawled, grinning when Draco’s gaze snapped up, “took the bargain.”
The blond froze. “What?”
Pansy smiled sweetly, rocking on the balls of her feet. “You can thank me later.”
Draco wrapped her in a hug and spun her around. “I’ll thank you now. Pansy, this is--you’re serious?” He was grinning wider than she’d seen since before the war, and it warmed her heart. Draco was her best friend, and it was so hard watching him draw into himself and throw everything he had into his studies. He was blocking out the world, and that smile was like taking it all back in. She couldn’t help but smile just as brightly.
“I told you he likes you.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course you had to give me an ‘I told you so’.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
“You couldn’t just settle for a ‘you’re welcome’?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” she asked, looking aghast at the notion. “You’re going to ask him out tonight.” When there was no response, she whined, “Draco, I didn’t go through all this effort for you to chicken out at the end. Don’t be a coward--”
Draco’s jaw clenched, and his smile disappeared. “I am not a coward,” he said with vehement.
She realized the error in her words. “Draco, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”
They all had scars from the war. McGonagall had enrolled the students in counseling, but most of them were nearly as broken as they were after the battle. Pansy could feel her lips burn with the curses she’d thrown at her classmates to appease the Carrows. She could see that betrayed stares from everyone when she offered Harry Potter to the Dark Lord. Sometimes it kept her up all night. Draco, on the other hand, was plagued with nightmares about becoming his father. Certain trigger words were to be avoided at all costs, and Pansy hadn’t followed that rule.
She wanted to apologize, but the words died on her tongue. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she repeated lamely.
Draco shrugged it off, but his smile didn’t return. “I’ll think about asking him tonight.”
“Good.”
Draco nodded at her once again before walking off down the corridor. Pansy watched him go with her stomach twisted in knots.
x*x*X*x*x
The eighth year common room was quieter than Slytherin. Draco liked that it allowed him time to think, but it also made it more difficult to have private conversations. As he stepped into the room, he sought out a pair of familiar green eyes. Potter was sitting next to Granger glaring at what was probably his Potions essay. Draco had finished it a week ago. He took a deep breath and started on his way over.
Potter glanced up. His eyes met Draco’s and he knocked over his inkwell. As he fumbled to clean up the mess, Draco thought back to all his experiences with those eyes.
When they first met, Draco loved them. They were bright and full of hope and kindness. Later, he hated them. Because they would never again look at him that way. He hated them as the Sorting Hat was lifted off of Potter’s head and it became clear they wouldn’t be paired with an emerald tie. He hated them as they met his own in the mirror in sixth year. He hated them more than nearly anything else--
Because he’d never love anything more.
When Potter had undone his mess, those eyes locked on him again. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
“A word, if you will.” Draco’s heart pounded in his chest. What if this was a mistake? What if Potter only agreed to Pansy’s bargain as some sort of cruel joke? But then Potter was following him out of the common room, and there was no way to back out.
“What did you want to say?” Potter asked, arms crossed.
“Where’s the Weasel?” Draco asked instead of answering, stalling for time. “I thought he was sort of a pet of yours.”
Potter glared. “If you only called me out here to make fun of my friends, you can shut the fuck up. I have better things to do with my time.”
“Shit,” Draco muttered. “I’m sorry. I was--I was trying to make friendly conversation. I guess I’m worse at this than I thought.”
Potter blinked. “Did you just apologize? And say you were trying to be friendly?”
Draco growled. “Well, I did, but if you’re going to mock me for it--”
“Fuck, Malfoy. I wasn’t mocking you. I was just surprised is all. We’ve kind of been sworn enemies for a while.”
Draco snorted. They sat in silence for a few moments. It was nice not fighting. Perfect. Or it would be if Draco could force his question out and Potter said yes. Draco opened his mouth. No words emerged. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know what he would do if he was denied again after all these years. And the denial would be far more humiliating than when he was eleven.
Maybe he could just insult Potter and say this whole thing was a joke. They’d go back to being enemies, but at least Draco would salvage his pride--
“Draco, will you go out with me?”
He froze. Draco couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Because Potter was looking at him like he did when they first made eye contact in Madam Malkin’s--with bright eyes and hope.
So Draco kissed him. It was a soft kiss, hesitant and slow. When he pulled away, those green eyes were the brightest he’d ever seen them.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
x*x*X*x*x
Pansy was sitting in a chair beside the fireplace. She liked that one best, as her feet were nearly always numb. She watched as Draco entered the common room and winked at her. Potter entered seconds later, a glow on his face. He caught her eye across the room and mouthed, ‘thank you’. Then he flicked his head in Granger’s direction, shooting Pansy a thumbs up. She suddenly couldn’t remember how to breathe. Potter’s grin told her it showed.
And with that, Pansy pulled herself out of the chair and made her way over to Granger, cold feet be damned. The girl didn’t look up. She was too involved in whatever she was writing. And Salazar, was that a turn-on. Smart girls would be the death of her.
“Hermione,” she said, only realizing after the word left her mouth that she had used Granger’s first name.
Hermione looked up in surprise. “Pansy! I didn’t see you there. What is it?”
The Slytherin swallowed. “You look really nice today. And I was, um, wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me.” Real smooth, Parkinson. It was never this difficult to ask guys out. Then again, she supposed things were always easier when you didn’t care about the result. And Merlin, did she care about this one.
Hermione was gaping at her. “With you? As in, on a date?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “That’s the idea, yes.”
“I’d, um,” Hermione said, blushing profusely, “like that a lot.”
Pansy smiled. “Great. Because I like you a lot.” She really was becoming a Hufflepuff. Maybe she’d curse a few first years later to keep herself from going soft.
Apparently, it was the right thing to say, however, because Hermione’s face lit up like a Lumos charm. She set her books carefully on the side table and kissed Pansy softly. She smelled of old parchment and something flowery.
When Hermione spoke, her lips danced against Pansy’s. “I like you a lot, too.”
“You’d be a fool not to,” Pansy said with a smirk. “And you, Hermione Granger, are anything but a fool.”
Hermione raised a brow. “I’m glad you think so.”
And then they kissed again. It was fucking brilliant.
x*x*X*x*x
“Hey, um, Ron?” Harry asked as they sat at the breakfast table. It was the morning of the Hogsmeade visit, and Harry was full of more nerves than he was before a Quidditch match.
“Yeah, mate?”
“Hermione and I were just wondering if you minded going to Hogsmeade on your own.”
Ron spoke around a mouthful of toast. “Sure, what’s up?”
Hermione fumbled with her fork. “We’re kind of, um, going on a date.”
“Together?” he clarified, looking between the two of them.
“Yes.” She felt terrible for the near-lie. They were going on a date, and they would be together. It was just that their dates were a bit more Slytherin than, well, each other.
Ron nodded. “Okay, I can make other plans. Have fun, you two.” And then he got up from the table, looking both distracted and a bit excited.
Hermione frowned. “Is it just me, or did he take that almost too well?”
“He did. I suppose that’s not something to complain about, though,” Harry said brightly.
Hermione nodded, chewing on her cheek in thought. “I guess you’re right. Come on, Pansy and Draco will be waiting for us.”
x*x*X*x*x
They arrived at the Hog’s Head after the Slytherins. This location was decided upon because far fewer students visited, and they were less likely to be spotted. It wasn’t that anyone in the party was opposed to people knowing about their relationships, but it was a bit unconventional, and they all decided it would be better if things were less public in the beginning. Harry sat in the booth beside Draco, and Hermione slid in next to Pansy. The girls fell into conversation quickly, so Harry turned his attention to Draco.
“You took your time, Scarhead.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be nice now that we’re dating?”
Draco scoffed. “Please. I’m never nice.”
Harry grinned, finally answering the question. “We had to come up with a cover to tell Ron before we left.”
Draco’s brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t you tell him the truth?”
Harry sighed. “We’re not exactly sure he’d like the idea of us dating Slytherins. If you knew Ron, you’d understand.”
Draco laughed aloud, a couple of snorts escaping in the process.
“What?”
Draco wiped at his eye, still grinning like a maniac. “Potter, Weasley’s been seeing Blaise Zabini for a month.”
Harry blinked. “You’re joking.”
Draco pointed to the corner. There, Ron and Blaise sat laughing together over a pair of butterbeers.
“Well, what do you know.”
Draco smirked. “Slytherins are just sexier. It’s a known fact.”
Harry rolled his eyes and shoved Draco lightly. “Oh, sod off.”
“What happened to being nice?”
“We’ve never really done nice very well, have we?”
Draco raised a brow. “I suppose you’re right. What does that mean for our relationship?”
Harry grinned. “This is a relationship now, is it?”
“Prat.”
“Git.”
“Ponce.”
“Wanker.”
Despite the fact that this wasn’t at all how he thought his eighth year would turn out, Harry couldn’t have been happier.