Friends Forever

Friends Forever (4/?)

by Andrea

This will be a better chapter for those rooting for H/Hr. BTW, the character of Vanessa Sy is mine...

Chapter Four - Plots and Betrayal

"What sort of money are these?"

"They're play money - American dollars," Half-blood Slytherin Vanessa Sy explained for about the fiftieth time, snatching the colored dollar bills from Draco Malfoy's hands. Having been raised in the States for five years by a Muggle father, Vanessa brought three other Slytherins with her out to the Three Broomsticks to introduce them to the game of Monopoly. Despite being a pureblood, Draco had been intrigued by the idea of a game with buying all sorts of fancy property, so he relented. So did Pansy Parkinson - and, to Vanessa's surprise - Professor Snape.

Although they'd caught on quickly, the rules were not as simple as they thought they would be. For the past ten minutes, Draco had been driving Vanessa up the wall with questions about the money, the playing pieces, and how the houses and hotels looked like tiny Chinatowns. It was nothing short of a miracle that they had been able to start the game. While waiting for his turn, Draco was criticizing just about every point in the rule book.

"Like this one." Draco stabbed his forefinger at one of the paragraphs and read it out loud. "'A player can only build a hotel after having four houses on properties of the same color-group.' What the heck?" he scoffed, scrutinizing the miniature green and red structures with such distaste that one would think he was studying flobberworms. "It's not like a hotel is too expensive, anyway - reminds me of the time Father was looking for a cabin when we went on vacation to Hawaii - they were all different and Mother liked them all - we spent like the whole day trying to decide - "

"Knowing your father, Mr. Malfoy, he would have simply rented all of them," commented Snape dryly, after having erected another set of houses on Boardwalk and Park Place.

"He almost did, Professor, until Mother decided she wanted to go to Paris instead." Plucking up one of the houses, Draco held it up to his eye. "Come to think of it, one of the cabins there - Mother's twentieth choice - bears a striking resemblance to this..."

"All right, I get your point," Vanessa snapped irritably. She handed the dice to Draco. "Now shut it, it's your turn."

"If you throw a three you will be my first customer in Park Place," pointed out their House Head matter-of-factly. Unbelievably enough, Snape was fairing the best among them - he already had three little green structures standing on the dark blue color-group - all of them seemingly staring at Draco with bated breath.

Draco shook the dice, rattled it up and over his head, dangled it in front of Vanessa's nose, then shook it again, in an undisguised attempt to annoy her.

"Just throw it already!" she shrieked, attracting a few curious stares from the surrounding tables. Whipping out her wand, she aimed a spell at the dice in his hand and cause it to clatter onto the board.

After shooting her one of his patented smirks, Draco chanted as the dice rolled unsteadily. "Two, two, two, two..."

The first die lay with one dot face-up... then the second read two - oh, crap, add that up and you get -

"Three... oh wow, lucky Drackie gets to spend the night in Professor's houses," Pansy said in a singsong voice that earned her a venomous look from the person in question.

"Well, what do you know... my sincerest thanks, Mr. Malfoy..." With a triumphant, sardonic gleam in his dark eyes, the Potions Master planted the property card of Park Place in front of Draco and tapped his wand on the line that read the rent for three of those blasted houses... ironically, Snape knew something of the real-estate business as well, considering the amount of money he still had left and the number of houses standing not only on Boardwalk and Park Place, but also on the Kentucky Avenue and practically the entire green and orange group. Apparently, Severus Snape was not made head of the Slytherin house for nothing.

"Happy to oblige, Professor," Draco drawled, picking up the card, but not before he drew out his wand and prodded it, a mischievous glint in his silvery eyes. Then he handed a hundred-dollar bill to Snape.

"Excuse me? Mr. Malfoy, I may lack seriously in humor but certainly not in my arithmetic. I distinctly remember having read that the rent with three houses costs a thousand more than what you gave..."

Feigning surprise, Draco reread the property deed card, holding it about a centimeter from his nose. "Really? I don't know, Professor, the price is quite blurry... but I can make out a one... then a zero... then another zero..."

Snape merely raised an eyebrow that made Draco throw his hands up in defeat, gathering up his money and counting them off. "All right, all right... the teacher wins... but even if I gave you all my money I'll still be lacking two hundred!"

"Maybe not if you sell me Marvin Gardens and the houses on it?" suggested Snape helpfully.

"But they're the ones fetching the most rent!" Draco whined in a very un-seventh year tone as he received Snape's payment for his only property with a hotel. He peeled off two hundred-dollar bills and returned it, mumbling incoherently. This was really bad... not only had he lost his most valuable property but he was also left with almost nothing.

"Never underestimate a Slytherin mind, Malfoy," advised Vanessa wryly as she retrieved the dice and rolled it.

"Daddy will not be happy," added Pansy, pointing at Draco's remaining money.

"Don't remind me," he said shortly. "He's already mad because we're down to third place in Quidditch next to Hufflepuff. 'Hufflepuff, Draco! Hufflepuff! I can't believe you! Even your grandmother can fly better than that - gods - some Malfoy you are,'" he said in a perfect imitation of Lucius Malfoy not lacking the suggestively raised eyebrow and domineering sneer. Dropping the act, he leaned back on his chair. "I knew it was bad - Father never mentions Grandma unless someone pays him to."

Vanessa looked at him pointedly. "Well, it was humiliating, you know," she said plausibly in the annoyingly reasonable tone that distinctly reminded him of Granger. "Considering you were up against a third-year Seeker - a girl at that - bloody hell, Malfoy, we have to win against Ravenclaw by at least two hundred points to even qualify against Gryffindor."

"It wasn't just any third-year Seeker," Snape informed them. "It was a friend of Charlie Weasley's - that Muggle-born Alexandra." Unlike before, when Snape used to spit out the name Weasley like watermelon seeds, there was little left in his voice that suggested his dislike for the family. Alexandra Masters had the intelligence and charm Snape never saw in any Weasley, and was Snape's top student in Potions. Other than the fact that she was consistently giving Hufflepuff rare Quidditch victories, there was little to hate in her.

Draco released his breath, blowing against the blond strands on his forehead. "Yeah, her. Damn, she's good."

Raising an eyebrow, Pansy collected her salary for passing Go, tsk-tsking at Malfoy in the process. "Really pretty too. Sir, you should have told Malfoy that Alexandra was a babe - then he wouldn't've been staring at her all throughout the match."

"Not to mention when the Snitch was practically poking him in the eye," Vanessa put in.

"I do not fancy that Mudblood," Draco spat out as though the word left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Excuses, excuses."

All right - desperate times called for desperate measures - and even that was an understatement for Draco's situation now. And what he had was going to blow them all away, he thought, smiling shrewdly as he dug in his pocket for the rumpled piece of parchment he'd stuffed in there during Transfiguration.

If they wanted a solution to their Quidditch predicament, well then, here it was, jotted down about a million times in a scrap of paper he'd almost tossed carelessly out the window.

A sly, sneaky gleam glimmered in his eyes as he held the parchment up for them to see. "All right, blame me if you must. But don't go thanking me when I get Gryffindor to lose against Ravenclaw next week."

"The odds that Mr. Potter would lose against them are fairly small," Snape said ostensibly.

"Dearest Professor, have you no faith in me?" Draco asked melodramatically, clutching the paper to his chest as though Snape had stabbed him. He shook his head sorrowfully. "I didn't expect you'd find me incapable of getting them to trash the game."

Vanessa snorted.

"With what?" Pansy asked almost smugly. "That old bit of parchment? What're you going to do, blindfold Potter so that he wouldn't see the Snitch?"

"Scoff if you will," Draco returned haughtily. "But you'll be on your knees thanking me when this little baby does its job."

"Let's see it then," said Vanessa impatiently, not noticing that Snape had just passed her property without paying rent.

With a grin that could have seriously alarmed a Gryffindor, a Hufflepuff, or a Ravenclaw, Draco slowly and deliberately smoothened the parchment on the table so that the countless words were exposed. For a while, Draco thought they were already at the same wavelength as he was, until Vanessa and Pansy howled with laughter.

"Now I know why Malfoy doesn't want to sleep in Professor's property," Vanessa managed to choke out before cracking up again.

"I do not fancy her!"

"Malfoy and a Mudblood sitting on a tree," chanted Pansy and Vanessa in unison between fits of giggles. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."

"Grow up and shut it, will you?"

"Oh, that too mild?" Vanessa cleared her throat and nodded at Pansy, who was grinning fiendishly. "Malfoy and Granger sitting on a tree... F-U-"

"Shut up!" Draco yelled, looking ready to pummel them to the floor if it weren't for Snape clearing his throat for silence. At the sound of their House Head, all three of them quieted down instantly. Draco shot them one last poisonous glare, which they returned sweetly, before turning back to the professor.

"As I was saying before you two so rudely interrupted," Draco began, retrieving the parchment from the floor and flattening it face-up. "This isn't mine - I found it during our Transfiguration class under Potter's desk."

"So your big discovery is that Potter fancies Granger," Pansy cut in. "That's old news, Malfoy. Why don't you just knock him off his broom on Monday and get it done?"

Are Snape and I the only ones who aren't slow on uptake? Tempering simmering under his cool exterior, Draco looked at her meaningfully. "Because, my dear," he said patiently. " - a cunning warrior attacks not the body, not the mind - but the heart." And if that explanation wasn't enough for them to figure it out, he was going to jump off Hogwarts' nearest staircase.

Which he couldn't do. He wasn't going to die out before he made maximum use of what he saw what Weasley and Granger were getting at in the shadows of their common room. Their gullible hyperactive portrait had its uses after all...

"That was pretty lame," Vanessa said bluntly.

"Cliché as that sounded," Draco said smoothly. "It's going to win us the Cup and Potter off his high horse."

"You're going to kill her?"

"Don't be an idiot," he snapped. He took a deep breath to stop himself from screaming out for the whole pub to here just what he was planning to do. Didn't they see it? Potter was nuts about the Mudblood, and she and Weasley were taking their sweet time in the common room. Put those two together and shove it up Potter's Head Boy ass and he'd be running off screaming.

A true blue Slytherin plan, was what it was. "I'll tell you one more thing," Draco said mysteriously, leaning across the table. "I went up to the Gryffindor Tower to give Potter his precious little parchment - and maybe do some blackmail in the process - when I saw both of them. Weasley. Granger. And you'll never guess what they were doing." He paused, leaving them to fill in the blanks.

Vanessa seemed to be doing some thinking - at last. "Weasley has a thing for Granger, too, doesn't he? Wait a minute." Her pale blue eyes narrowed, then she snapped her fingers. "They weren't snogging, were they?"

"Touché."

Eyes sparkling, Vanessa's face spread into a wide grin. "Well... that clinches it. If Potter sees them at it - "

"Then he's gonna hit the roof! We'll be golden!" Pansy finished triumphantly.

Finally! "By golly, did it take you long enough to figure it out!" Draco said gleefully, nearly prancing with delight. Everything was falling into place - within hours, Potter would be in pieces and the Quidditch Cup was as good as theirs. Mentally congratulating himself for cooking up such a brilliant scheme, Draco leaned back against his chair, pleased. It was sheer brilliance.

Even Snape had nothing bad to say for it, yet nothing good either. "My opinion is impartial as long as your little plan breaks no school rule."

"It won't," Draco said confidently. He checked his watch. "Now all we need is for Potter to show up and lead him right into our mouse trap."

"Speak of the devil," Vanessa whispered, pointing discreetly at the entrance of the Three Broomsticks. "Now's our chance. Step on it, Malfoy!"

All three of them sat up unusually straighter and crowded over the board game pretending to be completely immersed in it. Only Snape looked relatively the same - composed and unruffled - as Draco looked up as though he had just noticed Harry enter. "Hey, Potter!" he called, waving from their table.

Wearing the expression he'd worn when he, Granger, and Weasley lost a hundred and fifty points for Gryffindor during their first year, Harry looked up. "What is it?"

"Vanessa here is teaching us this fascinating Muggle game, and we still have room for two," Draco answered brightly, kicking Pansy sharply under the table after she giggled. "The more the merrier, right? Call Granger or that Weasel and join us!"

"Thanks, but no thanks," muttered Harry, paying for a bottle of butterbeer and turning to leave.

For a while, Draco considered calling him by his first name, but he knew better. Naive as Potter was, he was not that stupid not to suspect that something was up. "Come now, Potter, don't be such a spoilsport!" Draco persisted. "Join us - it's Saturday tomorrow, anyway. Besides," he was struck by a sudden inspiration. " - the Quidditch Finals are coming soon, you won't be able to relax during your practices, will you?"

Pansy and Vanessa nodded enthusiastically. Snape simply raised his eyebrows in agreement, obviously not jumping over the idea that Potter and his Gryffindor friends would be joining in.

Harry sighed, and Draco mentally pumped his fist in silent victory. "All right," Harry said. "You win." He headed towards the door, but not before he asked over his shoulder. "And by the way, you wouldn't know where Ron would be, would you?"

Oh, you bet I do, he thought wickedly. This was the turning point - Draco could almost see the Cup dancing before his eyes. Lips spreading slowly into a smile, Draco nodded politely. "Of course, Potter," he said sweetly. "They're in your common room."

"Thanks." With that he disappeared.

When Harry was safely out of earshot, all of them burst out laughing.

"That was the best bit of acting I've ever seen you do, Malfoy," remarked Vanessa between laughs, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Bloody brilliant - didn't even recognize you there."

Even Snape was chuckling. "I may have underestimated these - abilities of yours, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "I must admit - it was quite impressing." Then his face became stern again. "Although I am expecting results from this just as much as you are, I advise you not to let winning the Quidditch Cup cloud your otherwise already incisive judgment."

"You can count on it, Professor," replied Draco with an roguish wink behind his retreating back. He turned his attention back to their unfinished game. "So, whose turn is it?"

***

Harry left the Three Broomsticks, his cloak flying after him and a bottle of butterbeer clutched in his hand, surprised, if not suspicious, of Malfoy's sudden enthusiasm in inviting him to play with them. They're all planning something, he thought as he ascended the steps to the Gryffindor Tower. The wide smiles on their faces, with the exception of Snape, who was perpetually impassive, gave him the immediate impression of three grinning Cheshire cats.

Then again, Malfoy had a point. The Quidditch Finals were drawing near, and so were their N.E.W.T.'s, and by then they'd have less and less time to do anything else. Despite the distrust he'd always harbored for Malfoy, he was a bit grateful for the break. Pacing around mulling about Hermione and the meeting - if it wasn't already canceled - they were supposed to have that night was not his ideal way of spending an otherwise perfectly good Friday afternoon.

Her accusing voice rang in his ears again, blaming him for being self-righteous and a dictator. Harry pondered on their argument more seriously. Maybe he had been overly paranoid - it wasn't anything new that Ron and Hermione went to the Three Broomsticks together, just as he and Ron sometimes went without her. Only her unwillingness to let Harry know had told him that more had gone on during their drink than what Hermione's reluctant explanation had allotted to.

I have to go apologize to her, he resolved. She's under so much stress - I can't give her another problem to deal with. He decided to find her in the common room, ask for her forgiveness, and then he and Ron could go down and join the Slytherins for Monopoly.

Still, he couldn't help but be a little skeptical. Playing with three Slytherins - not to mention their House Head - required the same wariness one would need when entering the Forbidden Forest. Fortunately for him, he had vaguely heard of the game Monopoly from the years he'd spent with the Dursleys, and found playing it with Dudley just as tricky as playing with seventh-year Slytherins.

He reached the portrait hole bearing the painting of Lord Chandonier, Sir Cadogan's overly feisty second cousin and gave the ludicrously complicated password the painting had come up with yesterday. Lord Chandonier and his stallion were prancing ecstatically as though bursting to divulge classified information. He slid off his horse and brandished his sword at Harry's face, cackling insanely before jumping on and trotting off again.

"Are you going to let me in or not?" Harry asked him huffily.

Lord Chandonier put a finger to his lips, looking dreadfully serious albeit bearing an uncanny resemblance to Peeves the Poltergeist. "Nope. Not yet," he replied in a mysteriously low voice.

Harry, however, was in no mood for games. "I gave you the password," he justified as patiently as he could. Honestly, he would take Sir Cadogan - or even Peeves - any day in exchange for this - this lunatic!

"You're better off staying out here, Mister Head Boy, until they're finished," answered Lord Chandonier happily, gesturing at something behind him with his sword.

"They?"

"Right - they've been at it for three minutes and thirty-six seconds already - I've been counting." He pointed at the grandfather clock somewhere in the background of the painting and cheerfully turned his back on a very pissed Harry again.

"Who?"

"Not telling!" he returned, obviously enjoying yanking Harry's chain.

Harry made a low, guttural sound somewhere in the vicinity of his throat that sounded unmistakably like cursing. "Fine - have it your way then," he sneered at Lord Chandonier's flouncing figure. "I'll be going - got to have a little chat with Sir Cadogan - don't worry, it'll only take a minute - "

The mention of his second cousin worked like magic, Harry noticed, pleased, as the taunting grin on Lord Chandonier's face shattered like glass as though Sir Cadogan's name pierced it with lasers. Apparently, even if in front of the likes of McGonagall he still managed to find some harebrained wisecrack, one of his few fears was his two-dimensional second cousin. He called at Harry's retreating back instantly. "All right, your lordship, get on in - just don't say I didn't warn you - "

Tossing him a flashy grin, Harry stepped through the portrait hole as Lord Chandonier bowed with a silly flourish.

"Crazy git," muttered Harry under his breath as he passed the empty common room - or so he thought - until the soft rustle of the couch cushion got his attention.

What he saw made his heart stand still. Ron was there, all right - and so was Hermione. Neither of them noticed his arrival - for reasons that justified Malfoy's sudden invitation to playing Monopoly and Lord Chandonier's refusal to let him into the common room.

All thoughts of playing Monopoly, Malfoy, and Lord Chandonier fled his mind - nothing was left except the horrifying image before him - of lips against lips, fingers entwined, and the sigh that could only be described as passionate - from the two people whom he'd spent almost seven full years with.

Betrayal sank in with its painful, freezing jaws - that is, until Harry finally found the strength to speak.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something."

***

Those who cannot tell what they desire or expect, still sigh and struggle with indefinite thoughts and vast wishes.

-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

His kiss was like wildfire, successfully sending her emotions on an untamed tailspin.

Hermione's eyes, which had widened for a split second, fluttered close as Ron, hesitantly at first, closed the distance between their faces, mounting desire only too evident in his soulful expression. The tears she had shed seemed to fade away - as so did everything in the room - until all that was left was the two of them, their rapid heartbeats thundering in unison across the silence of the room, locked in another universe.

So many disagreements had sparked up during that week that she couldn't find the strength to resist and fight back the growing temptation to succumb to the deliciously intimate warmth he was all too willing to offer her.

Somewhere along the line, she unconsciously responded, her mind hardly able to process the excited squeals Lord Chandonier was emitting.

Amidst the strange, unfulfilled bliss, however, incited an odd sensation that caused her eyes to fly open, and, for a second, she saw a scar jaggedly tracing the outline of a thunderbolt and a pair of emerald green eyes flash over Ron's features, so distinct that she'd only seen them on one person.

Harry?

And then it was over. The flames that had coursed through her blood and very soul extinguished, the pounding of her heart slowed, and her entire world exploded in a myriad of color, until everything was at rest. The electricity flickered and vanished, leaving her lips an icy cold. Suddenly, all she wanted was for Harry to come and they would work as the head students of the school as they always did before...

Something in her conscious was murmuring his name in an urgent need, followed by a single whisper... a thought that flitted by as fast as it came.

I need you.

Coming to a decision, she prepared to break away, thank him for his concern, and let him down. Nicely, of course. After all, it was nearing six o' clock and she had a promise - a meeting - to fulfill.

She raised her hands and rested them on his shoulders to push him away gently when footsteps resounded inside the room. The owner cast long shadows too distinct for Hermione not to recognize. The tall build, the patent untidiness of the hair... that could only be -

"I hope I'm not interrupting something," the owner of the shadow said before Hermione could utter his name in surprise. His gaze was specifically locked on Hermione's hands, which were still resting on Ron's shoulders, obviously misinterpreting her intentions. As though burned, Hermione yanked her hands away and rose from the couch.

"Harry!" gasped Ron, getting to his feet as well.

Harry made no effort to hide the bitterness in his voice as he spoke to them, dripping with sarcasm. "Enjoying it, weren't you? I'd better get out, you two might want some privacy - ?"

"Listen, Harry, you don't understand - I can explain - " Hermione began, trying not to sound too guilty when her heart was shriveling in shame. How long had Harry been in there? How much had he heard? Difficult as it was to admit, a part of her savored the kiss, and, having assumed that the common room was empty, hadn't exactly been too discreet about it...

"You don't have to - I understand a lot better than you think," he interrupted sourly, putting up a hand to stop her flow of words.

"Harry, please, it was an accident - "

"An accident?" he repeated with much disbelief. "An accident that lasted almost five minutes, you mean...?"

Her heart sank at the obvious truth in Harry's accusation, pounding mercilessly against her ribcage. Hermione bit her lip. Had it really lasted that long? It was funny, how time worked. It was going at an alarmingly fast rate now, but it had seemed non-existent when Ron had swept her in his arms, murmuring her name in passion and reverence... Guilt swelled in her for the second time that day.

"No, Harry, don't take it that way..." she faltered, her voice trailing off as she glanced sideways at Ron, whose head was bowed ruefully.

Damn you! she cursed him silently. He was the one responsible for getting her into this mess in the first place, yet he couldn't even utter a word in their defense. Well, she wasn't going to pick up the pieces of his irresponsibility. Not anymore.

"What way should I take it, then?" said Harry almost indignantly. "That both of you just thought all of a sudden 'I've got to go kiss someone'? If that madness is true, I'm going to jump off the nearest bridge. I'm not stupid, you know." He paused, staring at them as though they were strangers inside Ron and Hermione's shells. "And the Hermione and Ron I know aren't, either."

Despite the undeniable accusation, the remark had stung. "Are you saying that I go kissing any guy whenever I feel like it?" Hermione asked, her voice rising. "You don't own me, you don't have a say in what I do or how I do it. Think about what you're saying!"

"All I'm saying is that I've seen enough to prove why you guys didn't want me to come along yesterday," Harry said coldly. "I should probably leave the common room too if you don't want me here as well." He swept past them and disappeared into the boys' dormitory.

Staggering slightly, Hermione fell backward onto the couch, staring blankly at the closed door leading to Harry's room with wide, tear-brimmed eyes. A soft click told her that he had locked the door, as though wanting to shut them out completely. He had made up his mind... the trust he'd always kept for her shattering into pieces like a crystal vase, one which Hermione had no idea if she could still put together again. She and Harry rarely fought... she wasn't about to start now...

She was so suffused in her hundred different emotions ravaging inside her that she leaped back when Ron touched her arm gently. "There's nothing you can really do about him," he said softly.

Wrenching herself away from his touch, Hermione shrank into the opposite end of the couch, recoiling as if he'd burned her. How dare he speak in such a way, like it was her responsibility to patch things up when he had stood there idly while she desperately tried to explain? How dare he...

Rage crashed in like a tide. She did the only thing her mind could process right now. She lashed out at him, unmindful of the number of students slowly entering the common room.

"There's nothing I can do? Nothing at all, after I stood there trying to let him understand while you just acted like nothing happened? It's always me who always has to take care of everything, isn't it?"

He took a step backward once he realized the full extent of her temper. "I - I'm sorry - "

"Sorry?" she repeated, spitting the word out dripping with disdain. "All of this is your fault, and you're sorry? I've just lost one of my best friends, Ron, you of all people should know that sorry is not going to get him back."

"I just - don't understand how - "

"Damn right you don't," she said fiercely, glaring at him stonily through eyes severely glittering with anger. "And I don't think we should still speak to each other until you do." Trembling with rage, she rose to her feet and stormed up the stairs to the dormitory, every bit of her anger punctuated with her sharp footsteps, wishing the ground would simply open and swallow her up.

The enormity was setting in, and all she wanted to do was curl up on her bed and never wake up again.

***

Simultaneously, Lord Chandonier was glaring crossly at the three people pressed against his precious painting. "What exactly are you three up to anyway?" he demanded. The head of his white horse bobbed up and down in agreement, whinnying at them irritably.

"Shut it, jackass, we're getting to the best part!" snapped Vanessa, scooting closer to Pansy and Draco, who had their ears pressed against the portrait.

Lord Chandonier snorted. "Ol' Snapey's gonna here about this, mind."

"So will Sir Cadogan is you don't clam up!" retorted Draco. Muttering something that sounded like "annoying brats" and "blabbermouths", Lord Chandonier and the stallion trotted away.

Seconds later, an infuriated shriek came from inside the room that was unmistakably Hermione, followed by loud, stomping steps, indicating that she'd left the room in a huff.

Silence.

"Did you hear what I just think I heard?" whispered Pansy, positively writhing with restrained delight.

"I think so," replied Vanessa in a hushed voice just as awed.

And so did he. With a grin of smug satisfaction, Draco withdrew his ear away from the portrait, having heard exactly what he had expected. The mixed twinges of disbelief, betrayal, and jealousy in Harry's voice had been priceless. Watch out, Gryffindors, he thought slyly.

[Let the games begin...]

***