Play The Game

CHAPTER THREE

Draco lifted a book, testing its weight. Discarding it, he flipped open the cover of another.

"What's going on with you and Cien?" he asked Blaise mildly, taking a small pile of books to the counter.

"Nothing, as far as I know." Blaise shrugged, pulling a book down from the shelf he was stood next to and flicking to the back pages.

Draco rolled his eyes, tapping his foot impatiently. "What's NOT happening, then?"

"The same as what's not happening between you and Potter," Blaise said calmly, eyes scanning the back page.

"Ah," Draco said darkly, flushing and looking at the ceiling to cover it.

Blaise smirked and dropped the book he was holding onto a nearby table without much care. "You got what you need?"

"Yes," Draco said stiffly, walking with his head high out of the shop.

Blaise followed him out, re-wrapping his black scarf around his neck. "Where to next?"

"I'm tired and thirsty and I just saw Morgana and Cien go into the Three Broomsticks," Draco said, pointing through the light fog.

"You're moaning," Blaise pointed out. "You never moan."

"I'm not moaning, I'm commenting and thinking up an excuse to follow two of the best looking girls in our house."

Blaise laughed, the sound muffled by his scarf. "I'll come if you're going."

"I'm going," Draco said vehemently, sticking his hands in his pockets, the carrier bag banging against his leg, and walking briskly to the pub.

'Ah,' Blaise thought as he followed Draco into the pub, 'He's mad at me.'

Draco closed his eyes as he walked. It was a straight line after all. Why would Blaise persist in bringing up Potter all the time? Sometimes, Draco didn't feel like talking about it -- if 'sometimes' meant 'all the bloody time'. And the look Blaise gave him whenever he mentioned girls of any kind, like - 'What, you mean, not Potter?' It was really getting to Draco, so much so that he was determined to do something about it. He pushed the door wide and walked into the steamy warmth of the Three Broomsticks. Immediately, he spotted Cien and her best friend Morgana Ignis at a table in a corner. Draco walked up to them, smiling as warmly as he could. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Cien looked up as Draco entered the pub and nudged Morgana under the table with her elbow, a sign to move up. "Sure."

"Thanks," Draco smiled. He was about to move to sit next to Morgana, but then thought of Blaise and his annoying habits. A smile curled like a serpent about his lips, and he sat next to Cien. The Malfoy boy snapped his fingers at Madam Rosmerta and pointed at Cien's butterbeer then held up four fingers.

Blaise walked into the Three Broomsticks a little after Draco and pulled his scarf down, rubbing his hands together to get the circulation going in them again. Noticing Draco and whom he was sat next to at a table he strode over, trying not to say anything that was on his mind at the moment and sat down next to Morgana. "Hello, Morgi, Cien, Draco."

"Blaise, Draco," Morgana greeted them, smiling slightly and licking the foam from her top lip. "You're damp," she accused Blaise, running a finger down his sleeve, beaded with fog.

Blaise looked at Morgana's finger and raised an eyebrow. "It's winter."

"I'm still dry," Morgana smirked.

"It's her sense of humour and my sarcasm. Both can strip paint from driveways," Draco smiled fondly, reaching across the round table to coil a lock of Morgana's bronze hair around a finger.

Cien, catching Blaise's eye, turned away and tried not to laugh. "Yes, of course."

Morgana pouted and reached out to yank Cien's black hair. "Stop snorting and eye-catching with the wet guy. I'll show you his baby-pictures if you think he's cute now."

A tinge of dark red appeared on Blaise's cheeks and he turned to glare at Morgana. "And I, in turn, will show Draco your pics."

"I was a wonderful baby," Morgana said confidently, sticking her freckled nose in the air and laughing. "Draco can see whatever he wants of me."

Blaise continued to fight his blush, 'Stupid Morgi, being impossible to embarrass,' he thought darkly. "Oh can he now?"

"Yep."

Draco gave a wolfish grin and tipped his head forwards, letting his hair fall across his face. "I think I might take you up on that, Morgana Rae Valentine.... et cetera."

Cien poked Morgana in the side, slightly annoyed at being left out of the conversation. "Aren't you going out with Zack?"

"Huh?" Morgana frowned. "I think I was, but he's the sort of guy who'll tape every conversation you have and put it on Sonorus all round the school the next day. I don't trust him. Besides, I hold a torch for Draco." She slipped under the table and reappeared on Draco's side. He laughed and pulled her into his lap.

Draco opened his mouth to ask Morgana about Zack, and froze. A cold jet of air across his face distracted him, and he looked towards the door.

Harry Potter stepped into the Three Broomsticks with Ron by his side, looking across the room to see if he could see Dean or Seamus anywhere. His eyes landed on a familiar head of blond hair and a not-so-familiar bronze sat in his lap. He frowned as he tried to think of which expression could go with what he was feeling now and determinedly walked past the Slytherins sat at the table, Ron slightly behind him.

'I will not look at him, I will not look at him, I will-damn I'm looking. Sneer and walk off.' Harry, instead, looked at Draco with a confused expression before he was gone into the back of the pub to meet Seamus and Dean.

"Pot-head," Morgana sniffed. "I like his arse in those jeans, though. It's practically sticking out of the top."

Draco nodded blankly, filled with an icy self-hate. Potter had given him a confused look. 'Oh my God, Draco's got a girl on his lap. How on earth did that come about?'. Why does everyone think of me like that?

Cien blinked and raised a hand to her cheek where an angry purple bruise was forming from when Lavender had backhanded her. Was there something between Potter and Draco?

"Honey, are you alright?" Morgana asked, reaching out to touch the bruise with a black fingernail. "Stupid Gryffindor bint."

Cien scowled. "Yeah, I'm fine. Shame I didn't hit her back though."

"Ladies don't hit other ladies," Blaise murmured from Cien's other side.

Morgana smiled catching Blaise's eye. 'It's snowy outside,' she thought, hoping he would catch the point. 'I think someone needs a kiss.' Of course, he couldn't hear her, but they'd known each other so long that it seemed not to matter.

Draco tightened his arm around Morgana's waist as the look on Potter's face replayed through his head again and again. She squeaked as he started crushing her and turned around. "Sorry," he muttered. "Sorry."

Blaise looked back at Morgana with a thoughtful expression and took a sip from his butterbeer. "Draco, crushing Morgi might be a bad idea, you know."

"Well, that's a shame, isn't it?" Draco shrugged. He shifted Morgi further up his lap and put his hands behind him, leaning back.

Blaise turned his head to the side slightly, before getting up and holding a hand out to Cien. "I need to get back to the castle, want to come with?" She hesitated before taking his hand and following him out of the Three Broomsticks into the mild snowstorm.

Morgi whooped and slipped into Cien's seat. "Finally got them to go." She held out her palm to Draco, who high-fived it with a grin.

"Those two are just... dense," Draco said, after pondering for a word.

'Why do I listen to Morgana anyway?' Blaise wondered as he bent his head against the harsh wind blowing snowflakes, unconsciously holding Cien's hand tighter. Most of the time listening to his cousin just got him in worse trouble than in the first place. He scowled slightly and brushed some snowflakes out of his dark hair with a hand that was almost completely frozen into an ice cube.

He caught sight of Cien walking by his side, remembering something from a long time ago that she liked the snow. This fact was confirmed as she reached out a black gloved hand to catch some falling snowflakes, like a child fascinated by their first sighting of something amazing.

Moving his gaze up to her face he noticed the purple bruise on her cheek again, from where Lavender had slapped and then backhanded her. The hits hadn't fazed Cien, who had once been knocked unconscious by a Bludger, but they were going to leave a dark bruise that would last for some time.

He reached his free hand up to her cheek and they stopped, facing one another with the snow falling around.

"Blaise?" she asked quietly, trying not to wince as he ran a thumb gently over the mark on her cheek.

"She shouldn't have hit you," he replied, turning to look from her cheek to her dark grey eyes. He moved his hand slowly to her chin, and tilted it up as she closed her eyes slightly, a single snowflake falling onto her lips. "You're too precious to be hurt."

He leaned down and kissed her softly as the snow continued to fall, heavier than before, turning the surrounding scenery a brilliant white colour.

"Can you see them?" Morgana demanded urgently, pressing her cheek against the window.

Draco laughed. "What is it with you and matchmaking?"

"Well, I'm so useless with my own life that I take great pleasure in fixing up everyone else's," Morgana answered, casting a smile back at him. "I think he just kissed her!" she said excitedly.

"That's nice," Draco said quietly. He sat back and watched Morgi's childlike delight at making her cousin and Cien finally get together - or at least partly. She sat on the leather seat under the window, legs folded up and breath steaming against the glass as she struggled to see through the thickening blur of snow. 'Father thought it would be such a good idea for Morgana and I to get together,' he remembered. 'Nice, pure-blooded, rich, sensible, attractive, high-born wife for me,' he thought bitterly. 'I adore her, but...' Draco shook his head slightly. He would be lucky to marry Morgana, and the way Lucius and her father had been planning it, it also seemed very likely.

***

Draco shook himself. "How long have they been out there? They must be cold." He stood up, hardly knowing where he was going, and walked around their table to the door. He whipped his cloak from the coat-stand and it rocked slowly, falling with a crash onto the table next to it. Draco turned to say sorry, but his heart gave a leap as he saw it was Potter & Co.

"Oh hell, you again?" he drawled nastily, pulling his cloak about his shoulders.

Harry jumped slightly as the coat-stand landed on his table and shot around to see Malfoy. "Jesus Malfoy, what was that for?"

"Draco Malfoy, actually. It was an accident," he snapped, not feeling in the mood to bargain with Potter.

"What? Did your big head hit it accidentally?" Seamus asked, putting his butterbeer down and rubbing his nose.

"Yes, probably. Did your big mouth accidentally catch on Potter's dick to make him so sickeningly happy?"

Harry choked slightly and put a hand to his mouth, glaring at Draco. "So what if he has?"

Draco raised his eyebrows mildly. "I'm saying nothing. Have you caught your equally big mouth on his?"

"There is someone else I'd prefer to kiss instead," is what Harry wanted to say. What came out instead was - "Sod off, Malfoy."

"Gladly. Not really my plan to stay and chat anyway."

"So why didn't you just leave?" Ron demanded shrilly. "You could just leave outright!"

"But then I wouldn't be provided with the entertainment of mocking you lot," Draco said simply. He felt arms slide around his waist and tensed, then smelt Morgana's scent.

Seamus wrinkled his nose. "Yes, the same thing you have been doing for the past what, six years while the rest of us have been maturing? That gets old, Malfoy."

"You, maturing?" Morgana sniffed. "Little boys who still play with themselves should not talk of maturing."

"Morgi..." Draco said quietly, turning his lips to her ear.

She nodded. "I'm off." She kissed his cheek and took her cloak and scarf from the rail, pulling it upright again and walking out into the snow.

"She can leave, why can't you?" Seamus asked.

"Because I knocked over a hat-stand onto your table," Draco answered truthfully, walking out.

"Git." Seamus picked up his butterbeer and began to drink it again; eyes narrowed at the door Draco had just left through.

Draco stuck his hands in his pockets before stepping out from under the porch of the Three Broomsticks and into the softly falling snow. It settled on his lashes and in his hair, brushing his forehead and cheekbones. Draco felt like a young child again, and kicked snow up as he walked over to the black bundle in the whiteness that was Cien and Blaise.

Blaise pulled back from Cien slightly and brushed some black hair from her forehead. He looked over his shoulder as a cold wind blew, remembering the whole reason he was in Hogsmeade: to shop with Draco. The guy that just so happened to be coming out of the Three Broomsticks now towards them.

Draco ducked his head and shook some snow from his hair. He blinked heavily.

"Are you ready?" he asked Blaise, nodding to Cien.

Blaise smiled slightly, arms still around Cien who was looking at Draco with narrowed eyes. "I guess so. You don't mind if I go?" he asked Cien.

She shook her head slightly, "Not at all." Standing up on tiptoes she kissed him softly before leaving to head back to the castle. Blaise watched her leave then turned to Draco, "Shall we?"

"Yes, please. I'm getting a cold nose," Draco confessed. "Did it feel like taking a dump after eating curry?" he asked curiously after a moment's silence.

Blaise looked - for probably the first time in his life - completely confused, dark eyebrows knitted together and pale lips raised slightly at one corner. "What?"

"Was it a bloody relief to finally kiss the girl?" Draco exploded, spreading his arms wide and grinning.

"Naturally," Blaise replied as he smiled at Draco, whose hair was the same colour as the snow they were stood on.

"It was like shitting a pineapple watching you two," Draco drawled. "Did you see which way Morgana went?"

"Not that you've ever shat a pineapple." Blaise looked from the snow to Draco's hair to the Three Broomsticks and back at Draco. "Not since I left with Cien."

"Alright then," Draco shrugged. "And when you're as offensive as me, people cast some vicious curses on you." He shuddered.

"You're in a random mood." Blaise stamped his feet on the snow and began to walk from the grass and onto the path back to Hogsmeade.

"I'm in a good mood," Draco protested, squinting up at the sky. "I love the snow."

"So does Cien," Blaise replied, shivering slightly against the cold. "Where did you want to go again?"

"How about Dervish and Banges?"

"Can we stop at Perfect Petals on the way? I need to get Morgi and Cien something for Christmas."

"Good point," Draco said, snapping his fingers. "It's before Dervish's, right?"

"Yeah, across from Scrivenshaft's," Blaise reminded him as he continued to stamp his feet on the path. "Can we go? I'm going to freeze."

"All right," Draco nodded, shaking his head again before setting off. "Do you think I should send Potter a black rose?"

"That would be interesting to say the least." Blaise tried to imagine Potter's face when he received a black rose off a secret admirer. "Maybe a white one?" he suggested. "He is pure after all."

"White rose... That's better." Draco grinned evilly at Blaise. "You're good at this. I can get my quill in Scrivenshaft's too."

"I guess adding blood would be a bit much?" Blaise asked with an innocent smile. "Zonko's is only one down, I'm sure they'd have some fake blood or something of the like."

Draco looked puzzled. "If I want to put blood on it, I'll use my own." He sounded affronted.

"How romantic in an 'I love you so much I cut myself' kind of way," Blaise commented.

"I didn't mean it to be romantic," Draco snapped, taking a small flight of stone steps two at a time and stopping at the top. "It's a family tradition... I thought that was what you meant. If you want to tell someone you hate him or her, you send them a rose. If you want to tell them how much it hurts you to hate them, you put blood on it. The blood's part of a challenge and a bonding between the two people. If the recipient touches the blood, then they're linked to you until your hatred is resolved. That is, one of the two dies or they make friends." Draco flushed slightly, turning to push the door of Perfect Petals open and walking inside with his head down.

"Your family has interesting traditions." Blaise ducked his head as he walked into Perfect Petals, the door shutting behind him quietly as the overwhelming smell of flowers attacked him.

"It's more than just my family. We're related to most of the Purebloods in the country, so it's probably in your family code too," Draco said reasonably, sniffing a carnation with a slight sneer.

"And the Weasleys?" Blaise asked with distaste colouring his voice.

"Not them," Draco said languidly, taking a lollipop from his pocket and unwrapping it. "Somehow, they've managed to avoid our family completely." He put the lollipop into his mouth and sucked it as he ran his hands over the smooth outsides of a display of peace lilies.

Blaise walked over to some bright yellow daffodils. "I'm hopeless with flowers," he said to Draco as he stroked one of the petals. "Do you think Morgi would like these?"

"No," Draco said, without looking. He pointed at a display of steel-blue snapdragons. "She likes those."

He looked askance at Blaise. "I thought you were her cousin."

"I told you before, I'm hopeless with flowers." He moved over to the snapdragons and got an assistant to get him a bunch, walking away from Draco to the counter to get them wrapped and priced up.

Draco shrugged and walked over to a display of white flowers. He smiled slightly as he fingered the petals of a white rose. The boy glanced round at Blaise before picking the rose up and clasping it in his hands to breathe deeply of its scent. He gasped as a needle-sharp thorn pierced his finger and blood welled up, running down his finger with surprising speed. He dropped the rose and lifted his finger to look at it curiously. Were there arteries in fingers, he wondered. There was a gentle spattering as blood ran from his wrist onto the rose petals, and Draco swapped his lollipop for his finger, sucking the blood away.

He wiped his hand clean with his cloak and went over to the counter. "You ready to go?" he asked Blaise, sucking his own finger.

"Yeah, come on." Blaise, now carrying two bunches of flowers, opened the door open for Draco and walked out into the snow.

Harry Potter stood in the shadow of one of the displays of flowers for Christmas, watching Draco and Blaise and ignoring Ron who was fretting over which kind of flowers to buy Ginny. He stepped forward and bent down, picking up the white rose, now splattered with Draco's blood. Carefully, not really understanding why, he reached out two fingers and touched the blood on the soft petals delicately. Lifting his thumb and forefinger up to his eyes he frowned slightly, rubbing them together then dropping the rose to his side as he looked at the now closed door.

"So, do you think pink flowers are good?" Ron was asking loudly. He marched over to Harry. "Oh, nice roses... Did you cut yourself?" he asked, looking at the bloody rose and Harry's fingers.

"No, I'm fine," Harry said quietly as he finally looked away from the door, still holding the rose in his hand.

"Oh, some poor bugger cut their finger instead," Ron guessed. "Harry.... Harry?"

"Mm?" Harry replied distractedly, running a thumb over the rose.

"Are you alright? Did Cho just leave or something?" Ron asked, half-joking, half very concerned.

"No, no. It's... nothing." Harry walked over to the door. "I think Ginny will like pink flowers," he said helpfully before leaving.

"Pink... Okay," Ron frowned, grabbing a bunch randomly and dumping them on the counter.

Harry walked out of the door and stood in the cold air, swaying slightly, and staring at the dried blood on his finger and thumb, the rose still clutched in his right hand.

"Do you think I should get that one?" Draco asked Blaise, pointing to a green, viciously sharp quill in the Scrivenshaft's window display.

Blaise wrinkled his nose in distaste and placed a hand on the door, preparing to walk into the shop.

"What's wrong with it?" Draco demanded, spreading his arms as he was left alone in the snow. He flicked his scarf over his shoulder and scowled. The blond boy realised he was being watched, and his head snapped around to see Potter at the top of the steps to Perfect Petals, a bloody white rose in his hand.