Game of Emotion

Winter was approaching, and Hermione Granger was feeling a bit ill with a slightly disturbing headache and an accompanying cough. Of course, that put no damper on her general gleeful feeling these days: Harry was apparently winning the game he was playing with Pansy, which meant Hermione was winning her wager with Draco. Sure, it wasn't by very much, but it was still good.

It truly was beautiful.

However, there was one dark spot on her horizon of happiness. Ronald Weasley was no longer counted among her friends, and it was rather depressing to see him sitting pretty much alone at mealtimes and such.

Not that Hermione cared, oh no, she would never do that after his own actions towards her. Maybe one day she would get over it, but that day was not today.

Still, she was not going to let it ruin her morning. Nothing was going to ruin her morning, not even her slight headache during breakfast! She ran out into the Great Hall just in time to see something horrifying.

*

Harry Potter was irritatingly smug, Pansy decided. He had been smiling all morning, and it was time that someone taught him a lesson. And, since she was the opponent of the hour, it should very well be her.

Just because he had chased her through the castle the previous night, her heart in her throat and beating two hundred times a minute, for some unknown reason he thought he had won something over her.

Of course, it had been nice when he'd caught her and kissed her passionately, in a way that made the young girl in the painting next to her giggle. It had been nice, that was all. It was certainly no reason for him to be acting like a prat that morning.

On second thought, it was Harry Potter; he was always acting like a prat. Scratch that, he was always being a prat. Even more than Draco usually was to people.

Thinking of Draco... he had been acting rather different recently, spending a lot of time with that Granger girl. Granted, he was Head Boy, and she was Head Girl, but they really did not need to spend that much time together. And she kept on catching both of them observing her and Harry... Erm, Potter, at strange times.

Weasley's murderous glares had finally stopped, thankfully. Pansy did not think she could stand to have him staring at her much longer; it was just downright creepy; those wide, somewhat bloodshot eyes glaring at her across a crowded room. That was not the sort of things that good romances (or even great stories of lust) were made of.

Back to that Potter boy though...

Pansy rose from her seat and sauntered across the room to where Harry stood, talking to Seamus Finnigan.

Seamus was surprised when he saw Pansy Parkinson of all people, walking, no, sashaying across the floor towards him and Harry. He was even more surprised when she apologised to him, before spinning Harry around and kissing him rather passionately.

*

"Nooooo!" Hermione did not realise she had said it out loud, until a hand clamped down on her shoulder, and she turned to see her assailant.

Draco. Who else should be there to witness the moment of her horror?

She sighed. Damn. If he hadn't turned up, then she would be able to pretend it had never happened. Of course, that Zabini would have told him. Did the girl have no life at all?

"Malfoy," Hermione said resignedly "How are you today?"

Draco smiled a shark’s grin. "Pretty good, Granger. There's nothing better than knowing that the time when I win draws ever nearer..." He trailed off with a smug look.

The Gryffindor girl was horrified. "But we never set an end date for this contest!" She exclaimed, headache worsening, "You don't know when this will finish, because we never specified!" It was an awful thought that he might actually beat her at something. Surely that was a sign of the Apocalypse!

The Slytherin smirked even more at her, leaning closer "Oh, I wouldn't know about that." He said slyly in her ear, voice sending a shiver through her. "After all, Pansy is better at this game than Potter. She's been playing it for far longer. I've been thinking..." he began, voice taking on a playful tone "About my prize? I..."

Hermione spun around, furious at the prospect, her hand came up, and she made as if to hit Draco. He in turn grabbed her airborne hand, and then her other one as that also went to hit him.

They both glared at each other fiercely, neither noticing Neville walk out of the hall, look at them, whimper, and walk back in again. He could be later found whimpering in his dorm room and waiting for the 'scary situation' to die down.

Hermione and Draco however, were locked in a glaring contest, neither of them willing to back down. Until...

"Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy!" The amused tones of the Headmaster shocked the pair out of their deadlocked state.

Draco immediately let go of Hermione's wrists, and Hermione smoothed her skirt out in a practiced motion.

"Headmaster." They both said, as if they had not just been found in a bizarre situation.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I am glad to see that you both are into improving inter-house relations." He said jovially.

"Um... yes..." Hermione replied, casting a glance at Draco for his take on this rather surreal situation. He shrugged almost imperceptibly back; Dumbledore got weirder every time they met, so he had no idea either.

There was silence all round as Dumbledore beamed at them.

"Professor Dumbledore" Hermione began "Did you want us for something?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, still grinning, "I believe the First Years are waiting..."

Hermione shook her head as the harmonics in his voice began to sound strange. Her vision blurred, and the world began to twist. Suddenly, and without warning she collapsed.

Draco caught her moments before she hit the ground.

She woke up in her own bed, curtains shut, and from the muted light she was pretty sure it was either late or early morning. Realising she was still in her pyjamas, Hermione smiled. Maybe it had all been a dream after all.

Glancing to her left, the girl felt her heart sink. A note. Quickly she pulled it down from where it was pinned to the curtain.

"Granger," it began, somewhat ominously (at least in Hermione's opinion) "No, the events of this morning were not dreamed by you. Dumbledore says to go to the Infirmary later if you feel ill." She could practically feel him smirking at this point, and had to fight the urge to track him down and hex him severely. "Otherwise, Potter wants to see you. And for his sake, let Potter enter via your portrait hole and stop bothering me. That is the third time this week." Now it was Hermione's turn to smirk. It was signed simply "Draco." no flourishes of any sort.

Hermione sulked at the fact that she was losing. At the rate she was going, who knew what horrors she would face if Draco won? If he lost, though... she had begun to have rather great ambitions for the things he would have to do.

Of course, that was if Harry and Pansy finished before they all graduated. At the rate they were going, nothing would happen, and both her and Malfoy would lose. Damn. What a depressing thought.

That could not be allowed to happen! She would not lose to a Malfoy!

Even if she had to... fix her chances a little.

Nodding to herself, Hermione grinned. It looked like it would be marvelous after all.

And before she forgot... "Selene? Let Harry Potter in through the portrait if he wishes, and has the password. Only Harry, mind you. Not if he brings friends."

The Goddess in the painting nodded her assent.

It would be perfect.

Suddenly she had a disturbing though. If she was still in her pyjamas, and Draco had written the note...

Did that mean that he had dressed her in her pyjamas?

Hermione frowned. Merlin, she hoped not.

He'd talk about nothing but it for weeks.

*

Harry was suspicious. Very, very suspicious.

People had been whispering about him in the halls. Of course, people had always whispered about him at Hogwarts, for as long as he could remember. It went with the territory of having 'the Boy Who Lived' invisibly tattooed to his butt. Who had thought of that name anyway, Harry often found himself wondering. Wouldn't 'Vanquisher of Voldemort' be more appropriate?

This time, though, the rumours were different, much... meaner, and he was fairly sure that this web of lies and deceit would lead back to the lair of one Ronald Weasley.

Ron was a jealous sort, always refusing to believe that anyone would hate time in the spotlight when it was all he himself craved. Of course, the fact that Harry achieved it without effort and without wishing it just drove him completely wild.

Harry suspected Ron would do something stupid before the year was out.

And then of course, there was the other problem in his life.

Pansy Parkinson.

Now, she was an enigma if he'd ever seen one.

And he had the nagging feeling that she was winning their little 'game'. It was rather distressing to say the least.

He couldn't lose! Not to a Slytherin!

That would upset the order of nature.

Slytherin equals bad.

Bad always lose.

Harry equals good.

Good must win.

At this point, his thoughts were beginning to get rather egotistical, so he took himself down to the Quidditch Pitch for a bit of mindless flying.

*

Millicent was upset at Pansy. She had been watching the other girl's movements with that, that... Gryffindor. Gods, even the name was deserved to be thought in the most scathing tones possible.

How could she call herself a Slytherin the way she had been carrying on with one of their enemies?

Wait until the others hear about this!

Millicent did feel a bit guilty about informing the rest of her house about her treacherous friend’s antics, but it was for her own good; the sooner that she stopped associating with people best left unnamed - the better.

With a nod to herself, the Slytherin girl left to find Blaise Zabini.

All she really needed to do was make a slight reference to it, and the girl would be off on the scent of gossip like a bloodhound.

Maybe Millicent herself would be able to keep her own name out of it...

This would bear some more thinking. As such, Millicent paused in her purposeful stride.

Unless, of course, Pansy could be made to break it off of her own accord.

Then such drastic measures would not need to be taken.

Again, this would bear some hard thinking.

Millicent began to walk again, this time in a different direction.

The problem needed watching.

Pansy needed watching.

Once more, Millicent would follow the unwritten family rule.

'Never trust a Potter'. It was right up there with 'Do not run with scissors' and 'Gryffindors are not brave, they are stupid'.

And for once in her life, the House rules did not make Millicent feel safer.

Instead they made her wonder.

How on Earth she was going to keep Pansy away from that Potter boy?

*

Pansy really did not wish to be kept 'away from that Potter boy'. She was winning, and if everything went according to her plan she would win the wager by the night of the upcoming ball.

The problem was, things at Hogwarts often went awry.

Stupid castle.

It was hard to keep secrets when there were ghosts, paintings and statues everywhere that could listen to your words and repeat them to people who were not supposed to know.

Well, she'd have to be careful, that was all.

Nothing was going to stop her now.

There was someone else who did not want to be stopped in their chosen method of action; Draco was currently feeling superior, and it was such a nice feeling that he did not particularly wish it to stop.

He smirked a bit at Granger's probable reaction to his little note that he had left pinned next to her.

She would be furious.

This was proven by the very girl herself suddenly storming out into the Common Room and glaring at him.

Hermione didn't say anything, just continued to glare at him angrily.

"Granger, I know I'm hopelessly attractive, but can you stop staring at me?" His mocking words cut through her angry silence.

Her glare intensified.

Draco ignored her and turned back to his book. 'A Winner’s Guide to Acting Superior' by Alex Karenos. So far he already made half the requirements on his own merits.

He glanced up from his book to see that she still had not stopped with the glaring.

Idly he wondered if she was still paying attention. Very slowly he waved a hand in front of her face.

Due to the lack of response, he felt free to attempt his next action.

He tickled her.

"What are you doing, Malfoy!" She squealed, snapping out of her trance and trying to wriggle away from his questing fingers.

He gave her a rather wolfish look and grinned. "I should think you could figure that one out, Granger." He said, a trace of a smile on his lips.

Hmm, Hermione thought. Maybe I don't have to try so hard to make him lose. I can just... influence Harry. Yes, that's it.

With that thought firmly in mind, she counter-attacked.

Maybe if she kept him off balance, her chances would improve.

*

Professor Dumbledore sat in his office watching through his crystal ball.

He knew very well of the 'games' that were going on between Hermione and Draco, Pansy and Harry.

Really he had no problems with it.

They were improving inter-house relations, after all.

Ahh, they were all such good children.

He'd be interested how it all ended up turning out.

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