The Society for the Admiration of Harry Potter

"Draco!" Colin called to him across the hall the next morning. "Meeting tonight!"

Draco pretended to ignore him. Colin was considered a dork even among his own housemates, and among Slytherins he was basically a running joke.

"What's Creevey doing talking to you?" Pansy asked. "What meeting is he talking about?"

Draco chewed his toast slowly. He had the full attention of the entire house by this point. Most weren't even pretending they weren't listening. Blaise had wedged himself between Vincent and Gregory in an attempt to hear.

"Erm...Gobstones Club?" Draco offered weakly. "Father wants me...involved in more extracurriculars. Looks good for the Ministry."

In truth, Draco was relieved to have some form of communication with any of the club members. He'd had the feeling they were ignoring him since the incident with Ginny and Corner.

Which, he found out that evening during the meeting, was completely true.

Ginny's eyes started watering the second he walked into the room. Millicent rubbed her back. "It's okay, Gin," she said. "It's okay."

"You," Colin said. "Are a bastard."

"I'm okay with that," said Draco.

"I'm never helping you with Ancient Runes again," said Padma.

"Not so much with that."

"What did he do, again?" asked Luna.

"He was completely heartless," Colin said viciously. "Really. This organization was formed on the basis of love and respect for our fellow human beings. Mainly for Harry Potter, but still."

Ginny looked up from Millicent's shoulder and marched up to Draco. "I ought to slap you," she said.

"Please don't." Draco had a bad history with women slapping him He had never really gotten over being hit by Hermione Granger two years ago--he still had nightmares about women with bushy hair.

"I'm not going to," she said, and took a deep breath. "Michael broke up with me," she said, and buried her face in his shoulder.

The assembled group looked at Draco expectantly. Fortunately, he had lots of experience with these types of situations. Pansy got like this, sometimes, when she and...whoever she was dating...had an off moment.

"Don't worry," he said. "There are other fish in the sea. And you have your life ahead of you. And he wasn't good enough for you. And you should eat lots of ice cream and get fat. And stuff."

Well. It always made Pansy feel better.

She hadn't stopped crying. Draco patted her shoulder awkwardly. "There, there," he said. "Don't cry, little Weasel," he said.

"Very good, Draco," Padma said approvingly.

"Will you help me with Runes?"

"Probably not."

"Damn."

Ginny pulled her face up from his shoulder, and blinking, wiped the back of her hand across her nose. Draco resisted the urge to check his robes for drool.

"Actually," she said, her voice only a little shaky. "I've been thinking. And I want to talk to you."

"Okay," Draco said. He was beginning to get a bit nervous, now. "Start talking." Talking, he had discovered, was rarely a good thing with girls.

She smiled cautiously. "Um. In the hall, maybe?"

Oh god. This was not going to be good.

The door shutting behind them had an oddly final sound. Draco wondered, suddenly, what it would be like being led off to his own execution. Which was ridiculous, but suddenly he noticed how very like her brothers Ginny looked--Ron's long nose, the twin's short frame, and those freckles that were everywhere.

"Listen," she said. "I guess you probably know what I'm thinking, right?"

Draco shook his head dumbly. Maybe if he ignored her she'd go away.

Of course, there was that stupid Gryffindor bravery to contend with. "Well," she said, after he said nothing. "I was actually wondering if you'd like to do something with me."

He kept his face perfectly blank.

"Like--a date?" she offered

Draco took a deep breath and shuffled his feet. Ginny smiled up at him expectantly.

"Well," Draco said. "Well, no."

Ginny's face instantly flared bright red. "Oh," she said. "Okay. I mean, it was just a thought."

"I'm a real bastard," Draco said comfortingly. "You know that."

"Well," Ginny said. "I mean, that makes sense. Okay."

"This is awkward," Draco said.

"Sorry I put you through this," Ginny said. "Let's go back inside."

And they did.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

In what was quickly becoming a bit of a routine, Draco went to the library the next afternoon to intercept Potter, Weasley, and Granger before they could take their favorite table. And, thinking ahead, he found an unfinished Transfiguration essay that he obviously would need help on. In the interest of building bridges. Naturally.

"I've talked to Angelina," Potter said, as soon as he saw Draco sitting alone in the library. "And she's scheduled some practices and booked the pitch. You Slytherins won't have it to yourselves for long."

Draco shrugged. It didn't really matter to him either way if the Gryffindors practiced in the snow--if anything, Draco thought playing in the snow was more of a hindrance than a help.

And there were some very painful training exercises that Draco would be more than happy to recommend. Just to help.

"You know," Draco suggested casually. "When we practice in the winter, we usually pack our broomtails with snow. We've found it helps with...balance. And you always seem to fly faster once it's gone, for some reason."

Actually, they'd ruined five school brooms trying to do that; and their beaters always flew slightly upward now. But that was beside the point.

Potter looked intrigued. He pursed his lips and ran a hand threw his hair. "I'll consider it," he said cautiously, and then, in a faux-casual voice: "So--what else do you do?"

"I read, I paint, and I sing. I'm a multitalented fellow."

Potter stared at him blankly for a moment; then chuckled reluctantly. Were all Gryffindors that slow to get a joke, or was it just Potter?

"No, really," Potter said. "We've never practiced in the snow before. Angelina was reluctant about the whole idea. So...if you have any advice?"

"Snowball fights are always good," Draco suggested. And they usually ended with at least one person plummeting twenty feet into the snow, but otherwise they were lovely.

Potter squinted at him cautiously, like he wasn't quite sure whether Draco was someone to be trusted. Draco smiled at him winningly.

"Thanks, Malfoy," Potter said grudgingly. "Here, let me see your essay. I probably won't be much help. You should have Hermione help you."

Draco resisted wrinkling his nose. A comment about Mudbloods probably wouldn't do much to get him in Potter's good graces.

The silence that fell was almost companionable. Potter's quill scratched away at Draco's essay; and Draco surveyed the scene, contented. He was getting his essay corrected, and he was being rewarded for it. Life was beautiful.

But he was; after all, being paid to get interesting tidbits on Potter's life.

"I heard you're going to Hogsmeade with Cho Chang tomorrow," Draco said.

Potter looked up with a genuine smile. "Yeah," he said. "I'm excited."

Draco could understand his excitement about Cho Chang; there really weren't very many negative things that could be said about her. She was pretty; older; smart--a Ravenclaw, which meant Draco would actually consider dating her. Though she was dating Potter--the girl obviously didn't have much taste.

"What are you two going to do?" Draco asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

Potter's smile faded slightly. "Erm, I'm not quite sure," he admitted. "There'll be--something good." He glared at Draco suspiciously. "It's not like you have much more experience, Malfoy," he said accusingly. "Name one girl who--"

"Ginny Weasley," Draco blurted.

Which of course was an entirely stupid thing to say.

He tried to cover it up. Draco liked to talk. "I mean, also my housemates!" he said. "Pansy and Blaise and Lisa and I know for a fact that Theo had a picture of me under his pillow in third year and...and..." Draco took a deep breath.

Perhaps all was not lost. Potter looked utterly torn.

Draco was an utterly intriguing and enigmatic person! Not even the Gryffindor could deny it!

"Wait," Potter said slowly. "Are you--you know. With, um. Boys?"

His face was so dark it was almost puce by the time he managed to stutter that painful statement, and he sounded like a mouse when he squeaked out the last word. Draco almost pitied him.

"Well, duh," Draco said condescendingly. "Are you thick, Potter? Free love, and all that."

Potter looked around and took a deep breath. He looked to be on the urge of saying something incriminating, for all that his eyes were darting back and forth. Draco got ready to remember everything for the SAPHAP.

At the last second, Potter sighed heavily and leaned his head into his hands. "What was that about Ginny Weasley?" he asked.

Draco was disappointed. He'd hoped he'd put Potter off of that particular trail. "She asked me out yesterday," he said matter-of-factly, hoping he could act as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Oh." Potter looked confused. "And what did you say?"

"No," Draco said. "I wouldn't want to go out with a--well, I just said no."

Potter seemed satisfied enough with that answer. "Anyway," he said. "I have a date tomorrow, and you don't. So."

"So what?" Draco wanted to say, but instead he just smiled and thought of all the Fever Fudge this would earn him.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

There was another SAPHAP meeting almost immediately after that. Draco noticed that he was almost looking forward to it, and wanted to shake himself. It was ridiculous, really.

For once, they were going to conduct "serious business" rather than just sitting around staring at pictures of Potter. "Serious business" for them consisted of planning Potter's birthday party, an apparently life-altering task left to them by Hermione Granger.

Draco didn't see why she couldn't just plan the party herself. It would have saved Draco, for one, a lot of trouble.

"So," Ginny said. "We need a list of Harry's interests. Anybody?"

"I bet he likes Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," Luna suggested, more to herself than to anybody else.

"I know he likes Cho Chang," Draco volunteered, much to the dismay of--well, pretty much everyone. "I suggest we carve a giant stone statue of her and give it to him."

"No," Millicent said firmly. "Draco, please don't be silly. This is serious."

"I've taken a bunch of pictures of him and his friends," Colin said bravely. "I could make a collage of them together."

"Good!" Padma said approvingly. "I know I can't help as much, but I can have my sister tell all the Gryffindors about the party so that they all show up and Harry doesn't find out."

"Oh, please," Draco snorted. "No Gyffindor will be able to keep a secret. And Potter won't find out even if it's right under his nose."

Ginny glared at him. "It's not as if you've made any real contributions, Malfoy."

So it was back to 'Malfoy' with her.

"Something with Quidditch, then," Draco suggested impatiently. "He's an obsessive freak about that, of course. And maybe--I don't know--he was raised as a Mudblood, right?" Colin Creevey winced. Draco didn't notice. "So we could play some real Wizarding party games."

"Like what?" asked Padma.

Luna smiled. "My father and I like to make different colors of fire."

Draco shuddered, and spoke before anyone else had the chance. "No, you know," he said. "I mean like Veritaserum or Water, Polyjuice Mixup--that kind of thing."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Those are illegal, Malfoy," she said tersely.

"Yes, well, that's what we played at my parties," Draco sulked.

"I think he has a real point," Padma interjected. "Harry never got to do that kind of thing--Ginny, everyone plays those games, even if they are illegal. I bet you did."

Ginny pinked, but didn't deny it.

"I agree," Colin spoke up. "Nice one, Draco!"

He didn't like these people. None of them. Not. At. All.

But that didn't mean it wasn't nice to hear a little praise, once in a while.

Later that evening, as everyone was preparing to leave in their little groups--Ginny, Colin, and Millicent; Padma and Luna--and Draco was preparing to slink off to Slytherin alone--Colin stopped him.

"Walk back up with us, Draco!" he chirped. Millicent smiled grudgingly--she was happy her friends were getting along so well.

"It'll be fun," she said.

"Actually," Ginny said, speaking very fast. "I was planning on inviting you in, Millie, to play Exploding Snap with me and Colin afterwards. Obviously, Malfoy--I mean, he can't come. My brothers will kill him. Harry will kill him."

Actually, Draco was fairly chummy with Potter.

"So," she concluded. "Sorry, Malfoy, but tonight isn't going to work. Sorry."

Obviously, she didn't like him anymore. He couldn't blame her. If someone shot him down (not that that was likely to happen), he would ignore them for All Eternity. But she must have known what she was setting herself up for. It wasn't as if he'd had a complete character transplant.

He'd just developed a new liking for--well--a new liking for extra-curriculars.

And, maybe--Harry Potter.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

The next morning, as he was eating breakfast, Hermione Granger came up behind him and tapped his shoulder nervously. His housemates were remarkably unperturbed--they were used to random Gryffindors assaulting him at breakfast, which said nothing good about Draco's social life. Pansy glowered at a boiled egg, and Blaise chortled into his pumpkin juice--nothing Draco couldn't handle.

"What do you want, Granger?" he asked. Weasley, standing beside her, clenched his fists.

Granger took a deep breath. "Well," she said. "This afternoon Harry and Ron and I are going to catch a drink in the Three Broomsticks once Harry's date is over. We were wondering if...if you'd like to join us?"

Weasley was so red he was almost radioactive.

"Not the whole time," Granger added hastily. "Just for a while. I mean...inter-house relationships?" For a Gryffindor, she looked awfully terrified of the way Pansy was glaring at her.

He wished she'd asked him any other time. He did not need his housemates knowing he associated with Mudbloods and Weasleys. And yet--he found himself, against his will, almost wanting to go. Which was stupid and illogical, and he wanted to talk to Potter.

"Okay," he said, before he could get a hold of himself and say NO.

Blaise dropped a goblet.

Granger gave a sigh of relief. "We'll see you at four," she said, and hurried away before Draco could comment on how utterly pathetic Potter was to have a date with a scheduled end.

Now his housemates were glaring at him.

"I'll make them miserable," Draco said cheerfully.

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

That didn't save him from being interrogated as he was trying to get his things together to leave.

"I'm worried about you, Draco," Pansy confided. "All these Gryffindors...and you're so secretive lately, it seems. Is there something wrong?"

Draco gulped. "No, Pansy," he said, as he tried to find his scarf.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "Whatever you say, Draco. I bet," he said confidentially. "He's got a boyfriend in Gryffindor."

"Or girlfriend," Pansy said defensively, before sticking out her tongue. "Ew, what am I saying? Draco, honey, there are plenty of lovely Slytherins you can choose from. Don't desert us!"

Vincent stirred on his bed. "Draco wouldn't," he said.

"Course not," Gregory echoed.

Draco snapped his gloves on.

"Absolutely," he said. "I'm friends with you all," he said.

Pansy looked uncertain. Draco grabbed her shoulder and locked eyes with her.

"Pansy. Don't worry."

XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

Draco was the first one at the Three Broomsticks. He pulled out a book that he had in his bag, ordered a firewhiskey, grabbed a corner table, and tried not to look conspicuous.

Potter and his friends didn't arrive for about another twenty minutes. Granger and Weasley walked about ten paces ahead, walking very close together and arguing very loudly. Potter, behind them, looked dejected; he hung his head miserably, and kept tugging on a lock of hair just behind his own ear.

For all that Weasley and Granger had looked ready to strangle each other, Granger, at least, looked in a fairly good mood when they sat down. Her face was flushed and her eyes were bright. "Hello, Malfoy," she said cheerfully. "Good to see you."

Draco blinked. "Er. Is it, now?"

She shrugged. "Well, Harry's been telling us about you. He says you aren't so bad. And anyway, you made an effort to reach out, which is more than I can say of some people," she finished loudly, glaring at Weasley.

Weasley, for his part, had slunk into the chair beside Granger and not said a word. His arms were crossed, and his ears were as red as his hair.

Potter shrugged apologetically. What can you do? he seemed to be saying.

Honestly. Draco wondered what Potter had been telling them about him. It wasn't as if they were suddenly great friends, or anything--they'd just had a few conversations about Quidditch. That was all.

And yet, Draco was the one who had agreed to come to this little get-together.

An awkward silence fell. Draco wasn't sure he felt quite comfortable talking around Weasley and Granger. But over the past few weeks, he'd spent so much time talking about or watching Potter that he felt he almost knew him. And from the harried way Potter's eyes kept darting about, it was clear he wasn't sure in the slightest how to bridge the gap between his friends and--well, his friends and Draco.

Weasley coughed into his sleeve.

"We'd like three firewhiskeys!" Granger called, waving her napkin in the air and sounding quite desperate. Rosmerta nodded--the pub was busy today; it would take her at least fifteen minutes to get to them.

Granger tapped her fingers on the edge of the table and looked longingly in the direction of the jukebox.

"I think I'll play a song," she said. "Would anyone like to dance?" Draco noticed her gaze lingering particularly on Weasley. "Please?" she asked, sounding horribly pitiful. Draco would have danced with her himself, maybe, if Weasley hadn't spoken up.

Weasley yawned. "I was just--er, I was going to stretch my legs."

Granger's face fell comically. "Oh," she said. "Well, that's okay. Harry?"

Weasley stood up before Harry had the chance to answer. "No!" he said. "I mean...I guess a dance would be just as good as stretching my legs. If you want to, I mean."

Granger turned a deep crimson and grinned happily. "Let's go, Ron," she said, and pulled him towards the jukebox.

Draco was left alone with Potter. He raised an eyebrow in Granger and Weasley's direction, and Potter sighed. "Yes, I know," Potter said irritably. "They've been like this for ages...can I have a sip of your firewhiskey?"

A month ago, Draco would have been afraid of getting Gryffindor cooties. But now, Potter looked so pitiful, so miserable, that all Draco could do was nod.

"How was your date?" he asked, once Potter swallowed.

Potter's face took on a pinched look. "Not good," he confessed glumly.

Well, Draco probably could have guessed that on his own--they'd scheduled a time for it to end, for god's sake--but he winced sympathetically and pushed his firewhiskey in Potter's direction. Potter gratefully took another large swig. He'd begun to look a little red and dazed, now--clearly couldn't hold his liquor; even the cheap, kiddy firewhiskey that Rosmerta served to underage students from Hogwarts.

"I'm wondering," Potter said philosophically. "If there isn't something that just makes Cho and I completely incompatible. As human beings. You know?"

Draco nodded sagely. Music began to play, and, across the room, Granger was leaning her head on Weasley's shoulder.

"I just," Potter said. "I just don't think that I'll ever like Cho. I mean I like. She's nice and pretty and funny. She's just too...um. You know. She's too..." Even on the brink of being inebriated, Potter was a bit of a prude. He leaned forward and whispered his next word. "Female."

Immediately afterwards, his face took on a horrified appearance. "Oh, god," he moaned. "Did I just say that? Really? To you?"

Draco nodded primly and took a sip of firewhiskey, trying to conceal his excitement. This would earn him a lifetime supply of Skiving Snackboxes!

"I didn't mean to say that," Potter said pitifully. "Please don't tell anybody."

That, of course, was what Draco had been planning on doing ever since Potter opened his mouth at the beginning of his rambling speech. The Saphaprodites would be heartbroken of course--except for Colin--but it was the kind of thing they wanted to know.

But now--scared and pleading as he was--Potter looked strangely endearing. His tousled black hair was falling over his ears, and even his glasses, which sat crookedly on his face. His eyes, Draco noticed for the first time, were green; and now they were cloudy and worried. He was disheveled and messy and horrid; and Draco felt a strange affection for him.

"Malfoy?" Potter asked, worried when Draco was silent.

"I won't tell," Draco said finally, and meant it.

Granger and Weasley sat down a few minutes later, hands linked together and both smiling shyly.

"Hello, Harry, Malfoy," Granger said brightly. "Did we miss anything?"