Inter-House Cooperation

Chapter Three - Pain, Woe, and Suffering

By the time the Slytherins got out of Charms that afternoon, Pansy had managed to organise them into at least a vague set of committees to prepare for the party. So far she had planned food, decorations, music, and brainwashing for the first-years. It probably would have worked, too, if everything had gone well.

Unfortunately, she had since been beset with cramps and had to retire to a couch in the common room. She was lying there now, with a heating pad on her stomach, eating Every-Flavour Ibuprofen in ludicrous amounts. Usually when this happened she could get Theodore Nott to help her with a Relaxing Charm, but since she had appropriated his supply of chocolate earlier that morning, that method was out.

In the meantime, everyone else had retreated to the far corners of the common room, knowing that Pansy when in pain was a far less sympathetic creature that her usual self. Blaise, however, seemed completely oblivious to this fact.

"My life is full of woe," he announced, flopping down on the couch opposite.

"Shut up, you bastard, I'm suffering," Pansy snapped. The Slytherins, as a whole, drew in their breath. Quietly, Morag MacDougal opening a betting pool in the corner of the room; odds stood in Pansy's favour to win in the short term, but Blaise's if you were going for the ability to inflict guilt later. No Slytherin ever missed an opportunity to make money.

Blaise began with a pout. "You might at least shower me with sympathy and chocolate."

"Lost at the start," whispered Morag, shaking her head. "A Galleon says he faints within ten minutes. She'll do anything to protect her chocolate in this mood." Sure enough-

"No!" Pansy shrieked, clutching her hard-won chocolate to her chest. "I need this! How dare you so encroach upon feminine confectionary!"

"There's nothing feminine about my confectionary," said Theodore, but no-one listened.

"You're always so mean," said Blaise, casting Pansy a look of spite. "You don't care about anyone but yourself. You've never done anything for me, in all the years we've been friends. Stupid cow."

"Oh, that's rich," Pansy retorted. "Selfish pig."

Blaise burst into tears--("Real," Morag judged, "the crybaby")--and flung a pillow at her. "I hate you," he sobbed.

"Millicent, attack," ordered Pansy.

Something rather significant happened at this point, but it went unnoticed beneath Blaise's screams as Millicent sat on him. Draco, who had been sulking regally by the fire, gave up in frustration and stalked out the door. He missed the really exciting part- and a chance to make a lot of money as Blaise unexpectedly did not faint or even pretend to- but he encountered something equally interesting: Potter, lurking by the door, his Invisibility Cloak having slid to his feet.

Draco killed him.

Well, at least he tried to kill him, and he would have succeeded had it not been for certain extenuating circumstances which, of course, were far too complex to explain to anyone in the necessary detail. However, he felt this was acceptable, given that he had severely bruised and maimed Potter, and that this was more than enough to make up for his own black eye, split lip, and possibly broken rib. Unfortunately, he was unable to exult over this until he finished glaring at Potter. And also until he got his breath back.

He noticed, uneasily, that his archenemy was looking unusually murderous this evening.

"You bastard," said Potter. "I'll tell Dumbledore you've been attacking innocent people in the corridors and he'll get you sent to Azkaban. Like your father. Ha."

Draco reflected that the idiot probably thought he was being clever, and tried to kill him again, this time merely for aesthetic purposes.

This time he knew his rib was broken.

Damn. Now, not only could he not move, but he had failed to get in a biting remark at the appropriate time. And- he delicately tried to squint about and see what was happening--oh, damn.

"Tell me your secret and nefarious plans, Malfoy," said Potter, holding his wand to Draco's throat.

Draco thought quickly. The situation was bad, he knew, but he was fairly certain he had won the glaring contest, and thereby damaged Potter's pride. Perhaps he could use that as a bargaining tool. Yes. He chose his next words carefully--

"Die," he said, his voice bursting with malice. "Or at least go away." The wand dug into his throat.

"You're not co-operating, Malfoy. That's a bad idea."

"Really?" Draco drawled, with only slightly less elegance than usual. "I thought I was co-operating by having stopped trying to kill you."

"I told you to tell me your secret and nefarious plans," said Potter. Then, with inspiration, he added, "I'm not afraid to use the Cruciatus Curse." That was, of course, a very interesting development of Potter's character, which Draco would analyse at length later, but in the meantime it was also a threat. It didn't frighten him, naturally, but he did feel he might have to exercise some caution.

"Good for you," said Draco--not too flippantly, he was being careful, but-

"I'm warning you, Malfoy."

"Oh, let's see..." New tactic. Maybe if he stalled enough Potter would go away. "Well, I suppose it all depends on what you mean by nefarious..."

"Cr-"

"Pansy is holding a fundraiser for evil, and pamphlets are being distributed in the common room," he finished hurriedly. Potter blinked.

"What, that's the only evil plan you have?"

"Yes."

"Nothing else at all?" For some reason, he seemed surprised.

"Um," said Draco. "Blaise has a plan to seduce Zacharias Smith, but that's not really secret, nor does it benefit the Dark Lord in any way, except possibly by amusing him. So, yeah, that's it. You bespectacled worm," he added, for good measure.

"You're lying," said Potter.

"Well, the worm bit was a metaphor, but you really are bespectacled. Honestly, Potter. I thought you would have got the hang of insults by now."

"I meant," he said through his teeth, "about the evil plans."

"Oh," said Draco, waving an airy hand. "You're still on about those."

"Tell me the truth, Malfoy!" Potter demanded. "I know your evil plans must be ridiculously complex and symbolic!"

"No, actually, those were real. If I were lying, I would have come up with something much less boring." How could Potter so doubt his creative ability? After all, he was speaking to the artist who had created such gems as Weasley is our King!

The boy looked disappointed. "I did think evil plans would be more interesting."

"Mmm," said Draco sympathetically. "You can't always get what you want," and then he took advantage of the moment to steal Potter's wand and hit him with a Cactus Curse. Ha! That would show him! "I can, though," he added with glee. And quick as a flash, he grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and dashed back into the common room. "I almost killed Harry Potter," he told Pansy triumphantly.

He was very surprised when she hit him with a box of chocolates, and he fell to the floor.