The Plan

While Harry was experiencing the joys of ice cream up in Gryffindor Tower, Draco Malfoy was trying to sneak into his dorm room without being seen. This task was not as easy as it sounds, however, and Draco gave a small groan of frustration as he was forced to duck into yet another classroom to avoid being seen by one of his dorm mates.

Draco refused to think about what had taken place in the strange room earlier. Instead, he worried about what he was going to say to explain his absence from his dorm, meals, and everything else for the past few days. According to his and Potter's agreement, he couldn't very well tell the truth...not that he would anyway.

Draco was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps of the person approaching him until it was too late. By the time he glanced up, he'd been spotted, and there was nothing he could do but stand there as Millicent Bulstrode walked up to him, one eyebrow quirked in amusement.

"And where have you been all weekend?" she demanded. Draco shook his head, and Millicent smirked at him. "Whatever it is, Pansy 's gonna kill you She's been freaking out all weekend, thinking that you were dead or some such nonsense. C'mon, better get the screeching over with," she said, gesturing for him to follow her. Draco shook his head again and stepped back.

"Nope. No way," he answered firmly. He'd seen Pansy in a rage before. It was not a pretty sight, and Draco had no desire to experience it a second time.

Millicent scowled. "Don't you for one second think that I'm going back there without you."

Draco shrugged. "So don't," he said carelessly, and began to walk away. He heard Millicent sigh, and that was all the warning he got before he was picked up and tossed unceremoniously over one of Millicent's meaty shoulders.

Letting out a loud, girly shriek, Draco immediately began struggling, legs flailing and fists pounding uselessly on Millicent's large back. Millicent grunted, and began to walk towards the Slytherin common room.

Realizing that his current attempt at escape was getting him nowhere, Draco decided to use his old standby: flinging insults in the hope that Millicent might put him down to take a swing at him, thereby giving Draco a chance to make a break for freedom.

"Put me down, you fat cow! You cretin! You diseased spawn of a blast-ended skrewt and a flobberworm! Put me down this instant!"

Millicent snorted. "Diseased spawn of a blast-ended skrewt and a flobberworm? That's a new one," she said. By now they'd reached the entrance to the common room, and Draco decided that a little hurt pride was a small price to pay when facing the Wrath of Pansy, and therefore resorted to the last possible option: begging shamelessly.

"Please. Millie, really, you don't want to see me torn apart, do you? I'll do anything, anything, if you just let me go."

Millicent stopped. "Anything?" she asked curiously, and Draco nodded eagerly.

"Anything," he replied, adding for good measure, "Please, Millie." He was so close to freedom. So close...

"Sorry, Draco," Millicent said, looking anything but, "as tempting as your offer is, I must say that it pales considerably beside the enjoyment of watching Pansy freak out on you. Riddle," she said, and the secret door in the wall slid open. Millicent marched into the common room with Draco whimpering piteously. Once inside, she dumped Draco to the floor ungently, and Draco just knew that there'd be bruises from that little fall.

"Look what I found skulking around outside the common room," Millicent announced, and nearly every head swiveled to look at Draco, who stood regally and glared at everyone. As he did so, a small sliver of relief shot through him. It didn't look as though Pansy was here, at least.

"DRACO MALFOY!" a voice shrieked from the entrance to the girl's dormitory, and Draco winced. It seemed Pansy was here, after all. Draco glanced up, wincing again as he saw Pansy coming towards him, the wrath of several gods on her face. Draco gulped and took an involuntary step backwards. Millicent laughed.

Pansy stopped within an inch of Draco and fixed him with her angriest glare. "Where were you all weekend?" she demanded, and Draco shook his head.

Blaise Zabini snickered from his spot on the couch. "He was getting laid," he called over, and as the occupants of the room burst into amused laughter Draco's eyes widened slightly.

Pansy's own eyes widened as she took in Draco's reaction to Blaise's remark, and without another word she grabbed his hand and dragged him to a secluded corner of the room, where no one would hear their conversation. There was a small murmur of disapproval, but eventually the other Slytherins turned back to what they'd been doing before Millicent had carried Draco in.

Once everyone had stopped watching them, Pansy turned back to Draco with an expectant look on her face. "Okay, spill it," she demanded. Draco didn't answer and Pansy's expectant look melted into a scowl. "Tell, or I'll have Millicent beat it out of you," she threatened, her voice rising. Millicent looked up at them hopefully, and Draco shuddered.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth, looking down and taking a deep breath for courage. When he looked back up at Pansy he let it out in a rush.

"Potterkidnappedmeandtoldmehelikedmewemadeatruceandthenhadsexnow here I am and boy am I glad I got that off of my chest. Bye now." He stood to leave, but Pansy grabbed him by his robes and pulled him back down.

"What?" she said, eyes wide, and Draco knew that somehow she had understood him. How, he would never know, but that was hardly important. What was important was that now Draco had some explaining to do.

"You heard me. Potter kidnapped me, locked me in a strange room with him, and confessed to liking me. Eventually, he wrung a truce out of me, and we kinda became friends...or something like it. He promised to let me go today, and he did...after I slept with him. And now, here I am, and I think that there may be something seriously wrong with me."

Pansy was visibly stunned, but she collected herself enough to ask, "Why do you think that?"

Draco sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, all weekend all I wanted was to get out of that blasted room. All I could think about was getting as far away from Ha-Potter as possible. But then when he unlocked the door, I didn't want to go. I had to force myself to leave. I think I may have developed that problem...you know, the one where the prisoner starts to sympathize with the captor...what's it called? Stuckhan Syndrome?"

Pansy smiled. "I believe it's called Stockholm syndrome," she said, and Draco nodded, relieved that she understood.

"Yeah that. So what do you think?" he asked.

Pansy smirked. "Could be," she said, and Draco relaxed. But then she continued, "...or you could just have the hots for Potter."

Draco gaped at Pansy, who's smirk grew wider as she dropped the bomb. "You know, I've always suspected that you fancied boys, and Potter in particular."

"What?" Draco hissed, and Pansy nodded smugly.

"It's true," she said, and Draco, quite predictably, freaked.

"I am not gay," he said, keeping his voice down by a large effort of will. Pansy gave him a skeptical look. "I'm not," Draco insisted. "I think I'd know if I was."

Pansy shook her head. "You're in denial," she informed him, and Draco laughed incredulously.

"Denial?" he said. "Please. I'm not in denial, and you're just pissed because you cant back up your ridiculous theories."

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "I can so prove them," she said, and Draco snorted in disbelief.

"Okay then," he said, crossing his arms and fixing Pansy with a challenging glare. "Prove it."

Pansy raised her eyebrows and began to list the reasons she thought Draco fancied boys and Potter in particular, ticking them off on her fingers as she went along.

"You've never been on a date with a girl--"

"I went to the Yule Ball with you fourth year!"

Pansy waved this off. "Doesn't count. I asked you and you only said yes to avoid looking as pathetic as Crabbe and Goyle. Besides," she added as Draco spluttered, "you ditched me as soon as Potter left the dance."

Draco was horrified. "I did no such--" he started, but Pansy cut him off.

"Yes you did, but no matter. Dates aside, you never even look at girls. The only girl you looked at for more than two seconds was Cho Chang, and that was only to inform us of what bad taste Potter has."

Draco opened his mouth to say something along the lines of, "Well, he does," when he realized that since Potter liked him, to say such a thing would be to insult himself as well. He shut his mouth with a snap. Pansy sent him a smirk, then continued.

"You're always going on and on about Potter--"

"Hello! We're enemies! That's the sort of thing that enemies do!" Draco screeched, startling a couple of first years, who looked up at him with wide eyes. "What are you looking at?" he barked, and was gratified to see the fear in their faces before they scurried off to do whatever it was that first years did these days.

Somewhat calmed by the knowledge that he could still terrify the masses, Draco turned back to Pansy, only to find her laughing at him. He scowled at her. "What's so funny?"

Pansy wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. "So that's what enemies do," she said through her laughter. "Silly old me, thinking that two people who hated each other would want to spend as much time apart as possible." Pansy rolled her eyes and her voice became bitingly sarcastic. "Now I see the error of my ways. I suppose all bitter rivals and archenemies go out of their way to see each other--"

"I do not--" Draco started, but Pansy's voice cut across his easily.

"I suppose enemies always find themselves locked up in mysterious rooms, shagging like bunnies. ("Bunnies?" Draco spluttered. "I hardly think one time qualifies.") I suppose it's perfectly normal for one enemy to ogle the other's arse in Potions--"

"Okay, that's it. That's the last straw. I don't, I repeat, do not ogle Harry Potter's arse!"

The room went quiet as everyone looked at Draco and Pansy. Draco felt himself blush and ducked his head. Pansy laughed. "Go back to your lives, people," she said with a wave of her hand. "Draco's just denying his true feelings for Potter."

Draco had never seen so many raised eyebrows in one place before. Completely mortified, Draco stood, snarled, "Not a word," and promptly fled the common room, the sound of his housemates' laughter following him as he went into the hall. Once out of the presence of his House, Draco slid to the floor. Resting his head against the stone wall, he closed his eyes and added another item to a mental list entitled 'Why I Should Never Tell Pansy Anything Remotely Serious.'

Of course, knowing that he shouldn't tell Pansy anything serious hadn't stopped him from doing just that in the past; so when Pansy came out of the common room soon after, Draco had no qualms about picking up the conversation where it had left off.

"I don't stare at Potter's arse," he said petulantly, and Pansy laughed.

"I never said you did," she said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.

Draco frowned. "I don't," he repeated stubbornly. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"I know that, you git," she said exasperatedly.

Draco's head shot up in surprise. "What?" he demanded, and Pansy sighed.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" she told him almost smugly. Draco glared. Pansy grinned. "Well you are," she repeated, moving to sit beside him. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you've pretty much been considered Potter's Property since the beginning of the year."

Draco gaped at Pansy in shock. "Potter's Property?" he repeated. "Since the beginning of the year?" Pansy nodded.

"Since he deigned to inform us plebes of his sexuality," she replied, adding, "And since he was caught staring at you several times afterwards," almost as an afterthought.

But Draco hardly heard what the girl was saying. He was still focused on what she'd revealed earlier. "Potter's Property?" he nearly shrieked. "I'll show them who the property around here is, alright. Potter's Property indeed." Furious, Draco stood, fully prepared storm back into the common room and give everyone present a piece of his mind, when Pansy grabbed hold of his arm. Draco snarled at her and tried to yank his arm out of her grasp, but she had quite a tight grip on him and didn't let go.

"Look, don't blame them, okay?" she asked, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "It's just that when we figured out Potter had a thing for you, everyone just sort of gave up. He is Harry Potter, after all, and the Golden Boy always gets what he wants."

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? The whole reason why Draco had made himself leave Potter sprawled on the bed, naked and alone, instead of staying with him like he'd so desperately wanted to. Potter had wanted Draco, and Draco had given in and let Potter have what he wanted; now the other boy had no need for him.

Furious at himself for the pain that accompanied this thought, Draco ripped his arm from Pansy's grasp, panting harshly. Turning away from the girl for a moment, Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath, composing himself. When he turned back to Pansy, his face was once again the cold mask that he'd perfected over the years, and his voice when he spoke was tinged with bitterness.

"Well, then, this was no different than usual, was it? I gave Wonder Boy what he wanted, and now he has no use for me. How typical."

Draco brushed past Pansy and walked briskly down the hall, ignoring her when she called for him to come back. He didn't want to deal with her right now. Right now, all he wanted was to be as far away from anything connected to Harry Potter as he could get.

Which was pretty ironic, actually, considering that his feet lead him to the library, second home to none other than Hermione Granger, mudblood extraordinaire and best friend of the one person Draco really, really didn't want to think about.

Once Draco realized where he was headed, he immediately turned the other way, but as luck would have it, said Granger was exiting the library just as Draco turned away, and she was in the mood for a confrontation.

"Hey Malfoy," she called, heading towards him. Draco considered his options. He could act like he hadn't heard her and keep walking...but he'd paused, so she'd know he was faking. He could abandon all sense of pride and make a break for it...but then she'd think that he was afraid of her, which simply was not on. Besides, something in him recoiled sharply at the thought of running away. There was no hope for it; Draco would have to face her. Groaning mentally, he turned around to do just that, and was startled to find that she was already level with him.

Refusing to let her see how she had already gotten to him, Draco gave her his most disdainful smirk and drawled, "You want something, mudblood?"

Granger glared at him. "You're an asshole, Malfoy," she told him, and Draco's smirk grew wider.

"Gee, I do believe I might cry. Your opinion means so very much to me, you know." Rolling his eyes, Draco turned to leave, but Granger grabbed hold of his arm--what was with girls doing this lately? He wondered--and spun him 'round to face her.

She was livid. Her eyes burned brightly with anger, and two spots of bright red streaked her cheekbones, which was the only color in an otherwise pale face. Her bushy hair looked wilder than ever, and Draco found himself a bit intimidated, much to his dismay.

"You listen here, Malfoy," she told him, gripping his arm tightly in case he should try to escape once again. "You listen, and listen well, because I wont be repeating myself. You are a prick. I hate you. Ron hates you. By all rights Harry should hate you as well. But he doesn't. Quite the opposite, actually. You don't deserve him, but--"

"Fuck him," Draco said, trying to rip his suddenly shaking arm from Granger's grasp and failing miserably. Wrong thing to say.

Granger's eyes narrowed and she hissed, "From what I understand, Malfoy, you were the one getting fucked, so why don't you just shut up and let me finish?" Stunned, Draco didn't reply, and Granger nodded, satisfied.

"As I was saying," she continued, "despite all reasons to the contrary, you're what Harry wants, and perhaps if he can look past everything you've done, so can we." Granger didn't look as though she believed what she was saying, and Draco didn't blame her. He didn't believe her himself. But that was neither here nor there at the moment, because Draco was stuck on an earlier statement, per usual.

"I don't bloody care what Potter wants," he yelled, finally succeeding in wrenching his arm out of Granger's death grip. "He can go get what he wants from someone else, because he's never getting it from me." That said, Draco turned his back on the interfering little mudblood and started away, repeating, "Never again" under his breath as he went. No way. He knew that if he gave in now, he would lose, and not just his pride. So he didn't turn back, not even when Granger called out to him.

"You know, Draco," she began, and Draco froze. "You don't lose if it's what you want, too. No one loses if both parties want the same thing." There was a pause in which Draco refused to acknowledge that he had heard or understood what she'd said, and Granger sighed. "Just think about it," she advised, and then there was the sound of her footsteps as she walked away from him.

Draco allowed his own feet to carry him wherever they pleased as he pondered what Granger had told him. Could he give Potter what he wanted and not lose himself in the process? More importantly, did he want to?

"Lost, boy?" the voice broke through his thoughts, and Draco looked up into the face of Bartleby the Barmy, troll ballet forgotten for the moment as he peered at Draco in concern. Draco didn't answer; rather he looked to where the door to the mysterious room had been just that morning, only to find a blank wall. And with the dart of pain that sliced through him as he looked at the wall, Draco knew the answers to his questions, and better yet, how to get what he himself wanted.

But first he needed to find out a few things. Turning to Bartleby, who was still looking at him worriedly, Draco asked, "So, how exactly does this room here work?"