Harry Potter - foresight reawakened - pt11: everybody knows
Foresight reawakened - (11) everybody knows
*
The kiss still firmly in his mind, Draco didn’t notice Pansy lounging on his bed until he sat on top of her. She squealed and shoved him onto the floor. “Ouch,” he said. “Cow. Sit on Blaise’s bed.”
“Someone looks love struck,” she teased, ignoring the barb and the order. “Who is it, Draco? Who’s caught your eye?”
Mouth, more like, and not even his. But Draco blushed all the same. “No one!”
“Tell me-I can keep a secret.”
“Pansy, you’re the hub of the Hogwarts rumor mill. What you know, everyone knows.”
She kicked at him as he stood and brushed himself off. He dodged. “I don’t spread everything, you know. I’ve never told a soul about your ghosts.”
“Visions.”
“Yes. See? So tell me-who is it you fancy?”
Draco sprawled beside her with a heavy sigh. “No one, Pansy. I don’t want anyone, not that way. It’s perfectly boring.”
“Aw, how sad,” she giggled. “Poor Draco’s all alone.” She crossed her arms over his chest and leaned over him, looking down at his face. “Anything I can do for you?”
He frowned. “Not really. Can you change the future?”
She smiled. “Everyone can change the future. C’mon, what’s really the matter?” She sat up, dragging him with her.
“Pansy…” Draco paused, wondering how to word the strange feeling he’d been having around his friend. “Why did you stop flirting with me?” he asked at length.
“I haven’t.” She slid closer. Her right leg was tucked under her, but her left bounced playfully off the side.
Draco sighed and pulled his legs up to sit facing her, cross-legged. “You have. You’re not serious when you do it.”
“I am.”
“You’re not. Why?”
At Draco’s earnest look Pansy dropped her coy innocence. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
She smiled softly. “Everyone knows, Draco, you don’t have to be afraid.”
“Knows what?”
“You…Potter…that thing you two have. Everyone in school knows. We just don’t say anything.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and Potter, Pansy. You know that-Merlin knows you know everything that goes on in this school, you should know when something’s a lie and when it isn’t. He put my father in prison, or have you forgotten?”
Pansy looked away.
Draco glared at her. They sat in silence.
“It could never happen,” Draco said at length.
Pansy lay down on her stomach, pulling one of Draco’s pillows under her and resting her chin in one hand. “Draco, it could. It will. Not yet, but it will.”
The words ‘not yet’ froze the next words on Draco’s tongue. He stared down at the bed, horrified.
“What? What’s wrong? Draco?”
“Nothing,” he said softly. Could he do nothing to change this future that he saw? He didn’t like Potter-he hated him. The man put his father in the same place Dementors were let loose! The boy was insufferable! He got away with everything and people still loved him! He’d killed Cedric Diggory-his father was there, he knew. Potter was a liar and a Gryffindor and entirely too self-righteous for Draco. To top it off, “His mother was a mudblood!”
“Draco.” He hadn’t realized he’s spoken aloud.
“What?”
Pansy slid a finger along the down comforter. She seemed worried. “Draco, it’s not-always-about blood. Sometimes, things…sometimes-”
Draco stared at her in shock. “Macha’s tits, Pansy, you have a thing for a low-born, don’t you?”
“No!” Pansy’s face told another story.
“You have-tell me! Who is it?”
Pansy sniffed. “I shan’t tell you. You’ll call him low-born, and he’s not. Well, he is…” A smile flit across her face. “But he’s more than that. He’s…”
Crabbe and Goyle suddenly lumbered in, laughing, arms full of food stolen from the kitchens. Blaise entered after them and quietly shut the door.
“Crabbe, Goyle, did you not see the tie on the door?” It was practically the universal sign for ‘do not enter-sex in session,’ and certainly the most prevalent marker used in the Slytherin dorms.
“Calm down, Draco, we knew you were only talking.”
Only Blaise, of the three, would have the audacity to talk back to Draco when he was angry. “We could have been having sex!”
“No you couldn’t’ve. Pansy’s got a boyfriend and everyone knows…well…” Blaise shifted uncomfortably at his desk. He finished putting his school supplies in their places in silence.
“What?”
No one spoke. Pansy tapped his knee. “See?” she said.
“What, so everyone knew this but me?”
Pansy smirked. “That’s about the size of it,” she answered when no one else would.
“Well this is bloody brilliant, that’s what this is.” Draco fumed. Pansy patted his knee. He swatted her hand and turned away from her, hands across his chest. “I hate this school.” None of them believed him, of course. They were the worst friends he’d never asked for. “And I hate you, too,” he added.
“Of course you do, Draco.” Pansy slid off the bed. “We’ll finish this later,” she said on her way out.
Draco scowled. He flopped down onto his bed. Did no one take him seriously?
“Cheer up, Draco,” Blaise said from the next bed. He held an open book in his hands. A parchment and quill sat on the little table beside him. “With all his skill on the quidditch field, he’s bound to be a good lay.”
Draco growled, dragged the pillow Pansy’d moved back to its rightful place, and mashed his head into it. He couldn’t wait till summer. No not-yets snogging with his face; no shite friends teasing him about a dreadful lie; and best of all, no Harry Potter.
*
The kiss still firmly in his mind, Draco didn’t notice Pansy lounging on his bed until he sat on top of her. She squealed and shoved him onto the floor. “Ouch,” he said. “Cow. Sit on Blaise’s bed.”
“Someone looks love struck,” she teased, ignoring the barb and the order. “Who is it, Draco? Who’s caught your eye?”
Mouth, more like, and not even his. But Draco blushed all the same. “No one!”
“Tell me-I can keep a secret.”
“Pansy, you’re the hub of the Hogwarts rumor mill. What you know, everyone knows.”
She kicked at him as he stood and brushed himself off. He dodged. “I don’t spread everything, you know. I’ve never told a soul about your ghosts.”
“Visions.”
“Yes. See? So tell me-who is it you fancy?”
Draco sprawled beside her with a heavy sigh. “No one, Pansy. I don’t want anyone, not that way. It’s perfectly boring.”
“Aw, how sad,” she giggled. “Poor Draco’s all alone.” She crossed her arms over his chest and leaned over him, looking down at his face. “Anything I can do for you?”
He frowned. “Not really. Can you change the future?”
She smiled. “Everyone can change the future. C’mon, what’s really the matter?” She sat up, dragging him with her.
“Pansy…” Draco paused, wondering how to word the strange feeling he’d been having around his friend. “Why did you stop flirting with me?” he asked at length.
“I haven’t.” She slid closer. Her right leg was tucked under her, but her left bounced playfully off the side.
Draco sighed and pulled his legs up to sit facing her, cross-legged. “You have. You’re not serious when you do it.”
“I am.”
“You’re not. Why?”
At Draco’s earnest look Pansy dropped her coy innocence. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
She smiled softly. “Everyone knows, Draco, you don’t have to be afraid.”
“Knows what?”
“You…Potter…that thing you two have. Everyone in school knows. We just don’t say anything.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and Potter, Pansy. You know that-Merlin knows you know everything that goes on in this school, you should know when something’s a lie and when it isn’t. He put my father in prison, or have you forgotten?”
Pansy looked away.
Draco glared at her. They sat in silence.
“It could never happen,” Draco said at length.
Pansy lay down on her stomach, pulling one of Draco’s pillows under her and resting her chin in one hand. “Draco, it could. It will. Not yet, but it will.”
The words ‘not yet’ froze the next words on Draco’s tongue. He stared down at the bed, horrified.
“What? What’s wrong? Draco?”
“Nothing,” he said softly. Could he do nothing to change this future that he saw? He didn’t like Potter-he hated him. The man put his father in the same place Dementors were let loose! The boy was insufferable! He got away with everything and people still loved him! He’d killed Cedric Diggory-his father was there, he knew. Potter was a liar and a Gryffindor and entirely too self-righteous for Draco. To top it off, “His mother was a mudblood!”
“Draco.” He hadn’t realized he’s spoken aloud.
“What?”
Pansy slid a finger along the down comforter. She seemed worried. “Draco, it’s not-always-about blood. Sometimes, things…sometimes-”
Draco stared at her in shock. “Macha’s tits, Pansy, you have a thing for a low-born, don’t you?”
“No!” Pansy’s face told another story.
“You have-tell me! Who is it?”
Pansy sniffed. “I shan’t tell you. You’ll call him low-born, and he’s not. Well, he is…” A smile flit across her face. “But he’s more than that. He’s…”
Crabbe and Goyle suddenly lumbered in, laughing, arms full of food stolen from the kitchens. Blaise entered after them and quietly shut the door.
“Crabbe, Goyle, did you not see the tie on the door?” It was practically the universal sign for ‘do not enter-sex in session,’ and certainly the most prevalent marker used in the Slytherin dorms.
“Calm down, Draco, we knew you were only talking.”
Only Blaise, of the three, would have the audacity to talk back to Draco when he was angry. “We could have been having sex!”
“No you couldn’t’ve. Pansy’s got a boyfriend and everyone knows…well…” Blaise shifted uncomfortably at his desk. He finished putting his school supplies in their places in silence.
“What?”
No one spoke. Pansy tapped his knee. “See?” she said.
“What, so everyone knew this but me?”
Pansy smirked. “That’s about the size of it,” she answered when no one else would.
“Well this is bloody brilliant, that’s what this is.” Draco fumed. Pansy patted his knee. He swatted her hand and turned away from her, hands across his chest. “I hate this school.” None of them believed him, of course. They were the worst friends he’d never asked for. “And I hate you, too,” he added.
“Of course you do, Draco.” Pansy slid off the bed. “We’ll finish this later,” she said on her way out.
Draco scowled. He flopped down onto his bed. Did no one take him seriously?
“Cheer up, Draco,” Blaise said from the next bed. He held an open book in his hands. A parchment and quill sat on the little table beside him. “With all his skill on the quidditch field, he’s bound to be a good lay.”
Draco growled, dragged the pillow Pansy’d moved back to its rightful place, and mashed his head into it. He couldn’t wait till summer. No not-yets snogging with his face; no shite friends teasing him about a dreadful lie; and best of all, no Harry Potter.