Weakness in Me (How Cliche)

~-*-~

Lucy doesn't love you

Not like you want her to.

Some dreams don't come true.

Lucy doesn't love you.

No she doesn't love you.

- "Lucy Doesn't Love You" Ivy

~-*-~

Matters were becoming desperate and frantic for the three teenage boys. Despite any of their best, but more often mediocre efforts, Hermione was still persistent in her attachment to the reviling reptile of a Slytherin named Draco Malfoy. Or often, Ron would say in a high-pitched imitation of Hermione, with a breathy coo, and wistful look "Dracoooo." It was a despondent time, and it was hard to admit that either of the three of them believed in much hope within the mission at hand. However, through this, they still plotted, still schemed, and still talked Quidditch more often than not.

It all seemed rather chummy now that Blaise looked back on it. Weeks ago he would have shuddered at the thought of being chummy with really any person besides a saved few. However, with Malfoy being an annoying git, and Hermione now the object of his anti-social, teenage angst affections, that left him with Potter and Weasley. He sighed and admitted, it could have been worse. It could have been Millicent Bulstrode. And at least they talked Quidditch.

They talked Quidditch a lot actually. They talked Quidditch when they should have been plotting, and scheming. But it all seemed for not these days. Especially after Harry had come to a thoughtful conclusion one day as they milled around the Quidditch field during lunch. Ever spying upon the disgusting, and disgustingly sappy couple that they were supposed to be breaking up, not watching.

In between making glares and sneers in the general direction of the aforementioned couple, Harry made some inane comment along the lines of "It won't really matter in a month anyway."

Blaise and Ron looked at him questionably, and Harry suddenly felt a rush of power at being the purveyor of knowledge among the uneducated ranks of his operation. And of course he was being dorky, because there were no "ranks" to his supposed "operation." But, well, he was a boy.

"What do you mean Potter?" No matter how often they talked Quidditch however, some basic rules, such as referring to each other by their last names, remained among the formerly wary nemeses. It was a rule right up there with Newton's Laws of Motion.

Shrugging, nonchalantly, he leaned back with his hands behind his head onto the wet grass and stared up at the spring-time sky. "In a month, our Hogwarts careers are over. All sense of normalcy we have become accustomed to over the past seven years will be gone."

"Meaning?" Ron interjected at the pause in Harry's speech.

Blaise, however, continued for him. "That we won't see each other as often as usual. Hardly ever for some of us."

"Right," Harry replied. "And with the direction in which Hermione and Malfoy are pursuing, I would bet the so-called 'relationship' will be over in a short time."

Ron however, the dear, sweet, dense boy that he was, wasn't exactly clear on the whole subject. "Why? Where's Malfoy going after we're out of here?"

Blaise smiled sinisterly at the idea. "Daddy-dearest is shipping him to a Wizarding University in Germany."

Ron smiled at the epiphany of a romance doomed to fail. However, Blaise wasn't so sure. Malfoy had a way of getting out of things with his father if he tried real hard, and bought enough gifts for the Y chromosome contributor of his parents.

Realizing they were speaking to him, he snapped to the speaker. "What Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I asked what you're doing after graduation."

Blaise shrugged and smiled a bit. "Uni of course. The one down in Oxford. Long, industrious legacy of my family supposedly."

The Gryffindors nodded, even if the pureblood, Slytherin aspect of it irked them just the tiniest bit. And they were going to avoid telling him that's where Hermione was headed there as well. They didn't care for her to be with any Slytherins, no matter how good a chum Zabini had become recently. That didn't change the fact that he was a Slytherin after all.

"What about you two?" Zabini ventured bravely into the unknown territory of fact-finding conversation about his two newest chums.

The two looked at each other and smiled then looked to him and shrugged. Harry spoke first.

"I was offered a spot on the Edinburgh Elite Quidditch team as seeker. Not sure though."

Blaise stared at him as if he'd grown breasts. "What could you not be sure about? It's the bloody Edinburgh Elite for chrissake." Bloody daft that one, was the instantaneous judgment Blaise produced.

Harry smiled. "I was thinking auror perhaps. Though, neither are conducive for a family." Blaise almost groaned at the revelation of Potter's true aspirations in life- being a housewife.

Looking over to the redhead, Blaise raised an eyebrow. "You Weasley?"

Waving his hand nonchalantly, Ron replied. "I'm going to go into my brothers' business." Of course, he didn't have to refer to which supposed business it was.

"Doing what per se?" Blaise asked.

Ron shrugged (a common teenage boy trait it seemed). "Marketing, accounting, product packaging." He grinned here. "And of course, testing."

Blaise chuckled in a good-natured manner. Leave it to a Weasley to feel masochism to be a suitable job.

The time passed in silence for a few minutes, and all three found themselves side-by-side, on their backs in the wet grass, admiring the blue sky and white clouds.

"Oh, that one looks like McGonagall." Blaise broke out with the statement, and pointed to the infamous cloud.

The three cocked their heads to the right.

"No, I'd say it's really more of a disfigured Snape with a big tumor on his head."

More contemplation. "Now it's looking disturbingly like a hippogriff."

Thankfully, before the conversation could degrade further, they had to leave for afternoon classes.

~-*-~

Walking the next morning into Potions, Harry, Ron and Blaise were careful to avoid any overt actions of eavesdropping. Eavesdropping, that is, upon the excited, but hushed whispers of Lavender and Parvati and they giggled from the back of the class moments before it was to commence.

However, none of the three young men spoke fluent Giggly and Squeaky Teenage Girl, so they were at a loss.

Though, it did seem rather apparent as Hermione walked into the room flushed, hair splayed in all directions, and brow furrowed in a manner common to that of an angry mongoose. Sitting down, she immediately opened her bag and set to organizing her supplies for the day's lesson. Minutes later, Malfoy walked in with a glare no one dared meet. Except for Zabini. But that's just because he's a bit of a slow boy.

Draco hissed in contempt at the fellow Slytherin. "Have a problem Zabini?" Blaise raised an eyebrow and wondered if this was the level of anger Malfoy must reach before all of his sarcasm and wit was worth not.

Blaise smirked a smug, smarmy smirk, and held up his hands defensively. "Just wondering when it would happen."

Draco's brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. Voice lowering dangerously, the Malfoy of ages before reappeared before everyone's eyes, and stared a poisonous glare toward the Greek boy. "And what Zabini," slapping his bag down loudly and in a pronounced way upon the table, so much so that everyone cringed. Except for Blaise. Whose smile just became wider and smarmier with the passing action. "Would that be?"

Blaise shrugged and crossed his arms. "That Hermione got tired of bad sex and decided she needed someone that wasn't a woman on the weekends."

Silence filled the room only interrupted by the heavy sound of Malfoy breathing on an intake before he yelled obscenities and jumped towards Zabini. Both ended up on the floor, punching, and kicking, and all those silly things silly boys do when fighting. And of course the silly boys of Harry and Ron were saying silly and unhelpful things in favor of Zabini.

Such as: "No, Zabini, go for the jugular!"

"That's right, just in the stomach!"

"Show him what your mama gave you!"

That last one, of course, hardly made sense, but the excitement of the crowd and the exasperated, uncaring demeanor of the woman they fought over made for a very weird atmosphere.

Finally, getting to their feet Blaise's nose was bleeding and his eye was swollen. Malfoy, however, was favoring his left leg, and had a few scratches on the right cheek below a quickly developing black eye. Both looked murderous of course, and neither looked ready to back down, no matter how close they were to running back to their dorms and having a good cry.

"Just couldn't stand it, could you Zabini?" Draco breathed heavily and was hardly able to ring himself to form a full glare in the direction of his opponent.

Blaise hardly managed to raise an eyebrow in his direction, courtesy of the swelling. He seemed to get the sentiment across however, and Draco continued.

"That you couldn't get anything of mine, no matter how hard you tried. That's how it's always been, you scraping for my sloppy seconds." Draco sniffed an arrogant sniff.

Blaise's hands balled into fists and was hardly able to give Draco another black eye and broken nose. "So, that's all Hermione is to you? Sloppy seconds to dance around in front of me and somehow act out all your internalized teenage angst because you weren't hugged enough as a child?" Crossing his arms, Blaise turned his nose up at Draco regally.

Draco seethed. "That is exactly not it you smarmy little bastard."

Blaise rolled his eyes extravagantly, just before Malfoy lunged at his throat. Minutes later, after many punches thrown, kicks dealt to the ribs and generally and higher quotient of bruises and broken bones administered, Snape decided to be useful for once in his life.

Bellowing at the students before him, they scattered quickly. However, Blaise and Draco were lost in the little world of their own anger and fighting for male dominance. Took a full five minutes to break them up. Even then, Snape had to employ the unwilling services of the other males of the class. The general consensus as each was sent with a separate prefect up to Dumbledore was that of disappointment at missing such a great bit of gossip.

Hermione watched them leave through narrowed brown eyes, her lip curled slightly in distaste, and went back to preparing her notes. Class continued in a much quieter state after Lavender and Parvati managed to hush their hurried gossip while under Snape's glare and scrutiny (not to mention the copious amount of points Gryffindor Snape was just itching to take in his bad mood).

Harry and Ron couldn't stop smiling however. And Hermione was just tormented to smack those smiles off their faces.

~-*-~

Later that night, scrubbing the trophy room, Blaise and Draco took great pains to insult each other. However, it was a common thought that they were best chums after all. Even if Malfoy was being insufferable.

Sighing irritably, Blaise spoke. "You know what Malfoy?"

You could hear the palpable sneer in Draco's voice. "Don't enlighten me with you imbecilic monkey banter you agent of All Things Smarmy and Lacking Fashion Sense."

Blaise unconsciously looked down at his robes, and rolled his eyes moments later. "We'll look back at this in years to come and laugh at it." Thoughtful pause. "When of course, you're over the Hermione's and my house for Christmas, because you have no wife of your own after I cleverly stole any chance you had at a normal relationship from you."

Draco patently ignored Blaise's statement, and hummed cheerfully, loudly, and annoyingly. Some annoying muggle song he had heard Parkinson singing along to while she thought no one was listening.

Many more minutes of the mindless scrubbing, buffing and waxing. The humming ever more annoying. Until of course, Potter and Weasley decided to scare the wits out of Zabini by appearing out of thin air. Draco looked on impassively as if he was begging some unnamed pagan deity to take him as the sacrificial lamb (just to save him the pain of his current situation).

The two Gryffindors smiled down upon their newly acquired chum. And then each gave him a knowing, sympathetic look.

"Sorry you had to get stuck with that thing." Ron spoke first, but didn't even give Malfoy the courtesy of nodding in his direction.

Harry made a noise of affirmation. "Though, you truly proved yourself Gryffindor in the process."

Blaise looked pained, and Draco managed a sardonic laugh. "Gryffindork more like it."

All three glared his way, and then took no more notice of him.

"Yes, truly a chum now Zabini." Ron slapped his shoulder in a very manly, chummy way.

Draco sniggered again.

"Yes, even Hermione's talking about how very brave, and noble you were." Harry said with a sidelong glance to Malfoy, who instantly stiffened and had the sensibility to flush. Before once again rubbing furiously upon the one and only trophy of Hufflepuff winning the House Cup in 1967 (all the Gryffindors and Slytherins were too stoned to put up a good fight, while the Ravenclaws were being political activists).

Ron looked positively evil as he said the next bit. "Yes, even said she never knew what she was thinking dating that smarmy git Malfoy, instead of you."

Blaise was particularly chuffed, even if he knew it wasn't true. Chuffed more about rubbing his best mate's nose in his failure than actually winning the object of his teenage paramour.

Draco seethed and pointedly tried his hardest to ignore the triad of Annoying Smarmy Dicks to his left. It didn't work very well as they continued. Somehow, it wasn't right to be the subject of taunting; he was supposed to be the one to do the taunting. Not the other way around.

"So then Malfoy," Ron stood in front of the perturbed teenage boy, and pointedly leaned down to look him in the eye. "What was it that you did you upset Hermie?"

"Just talk I would suppose." Potter cut in an unhelpful tone and the three other boys sniggered.

Draco had to quell the urge to condescend and rolled his eyes. Raising his lip in a snarl, he spoke back. "Nothing of your concern Weasel. And at least I actually have a girl to talk to Pothead. But oh wait, I forgot. You're The Cake Boy Who Lived, and are having a brilliant love affair with Weasel." Not his best vitriolic comment, but it would have to do.

And it somehow, did not have the desired effect and instead just made Potter and Weasley smile smarmily, while Blaise sniggered quietly over a trophy of something or other.

"Come on now, Malfoy, just tell us and when the eventuality of us killing you for breaking her heart comes along, we'll promise we won't make you suffer- much."

Draco rolled his eyes once again (he was starting to get a headache from doing that). "Such a brilliant threat Weasel. And if you think I'll tell you anything about my love life, of which you obviously lack your own and thus need to hear about mine for some sick, perverted satisfaction of your own, you are a delusional young person." Thoughtful pause. "And a sick, sick pervert."

The three looked back at him in amusement and Draco realized it to be a losing battle. Somehow, somewhere the tide had turned, and with Blaise on their side, it all somehow seemed to be a big joke these days rather than a proper taunting and verbal tirade. Gosh he missed the good old days where they would insult each other, possibly be involved in some sort of fist fight, and then be done by dinner.

Sighing in a resigned-to-his-fate sort of way, Draco looked once again between the three Scourges of His Existence. "It's all her fault I tell you."

~-*-~

"Wow," Ron said finally after Malfoy finished explaining. "I didn't know Hermione had it in her."

Draco hiccuped pitifully. "Yeah, she's great like that."

The two male members of the Dream Team eyed him like the daft bugger he was. "She broke your heart and you're still pining after her?"

He nodded and sighed wistfully, taking another drink of the smuggled Ogden's Fire Whiskey Ron had stolen from Seamus, and just coincidentally seemed to have stashed in his robes.

Blaise looked stricken. "And to think, I was going to ask her out."

Draco eyed him with a deadly glare. "I knew it, you smarmy bastard you." Another hiccup, and a few moments to regain his breath. "I told her you were a smarmy bastard. But did she listen to me? No. And now look. Look!" He slammed his hand down upon the desk, and his words slurred. "I'm pitiful, and pining after the little tart."

"Hey now, don't call her a tart." Ron said evenly, and attempted to secret away the whiskey back into his robes.

Draco snatched it greedily and chugged another few gulps. They sat in silence for a few more moments, listening to the hiccups and pitiful sniffs of Draco.

The three moderately sober boys looked to one another, to the sad sight of a degraded Malfoy, and back to one another again. Blaise sighed. "Look, Malfoy, I'm sure it's really just some sort of misunderstanding."

He eyed his best mate warily. "Think so?"

Blaise nodded somewhat against his own will. "Sure." He gulped, and mentally smacked himself against what he was going to say next. Somewhere in the back of his mind, and voice was screaming No, don't do it Zabini! This is the perfect chance for you!

And then he spoke back with the nasty little thing called a conscience. Just look at him. It was a pretty dispirited, painful sight to behold. I mean, it has to be the right thing to do.

Right thing to do? The voice answered in a shriek. You're a bloody Slytherin, you're evil, smarmy, and smug. You don't do the Right Thing! You hardly ever even consider doing the Decent Tinged with Evil Thing.

Blaise mentally sighed.

"I'll talk to her if you want."

No!

The voice shrieked and made painful gasping and coughing noises before he had the faint idea that his Last Shred of Slytherin Decency died when he said that.

Draco hiccupped again. "Thanks man," he sniffed. "You always were my best mate." He looked to the Gryffindorks. "And you two, well, I still hate you two."

They shrugged simultaneously. "Fair enough. We still hate you too."

~-*-~