第3章 章節

y talk to one, and it’s obvious which Slytherin he should start with.

The summer before they’d all returned for eighth year, Pansy Parkinson had owled him a very stilted letter congratulating him on his defeat of the Dark Lord, expressing her gratitude for his service to Wizardkind, and burying an apology under layers and layers of semantic posturing. Harry had rolled his eyes and responded with a note which read, in its entirety: “Thanks. -H”

On Fridays, Draco and Pansy fill their plates in the Hall and then take their lunch outside; he’s seen them in the courtyard. He knows that Draco and Pansye from different classes—Draco from Astronomy; Harry doesn’t know what classes Pansy takes— and that Pansy always gets to the Great Hall before Draco.

Harry skulks outside the doors and waits for her. She doesn’t take a second look at him, almost passes him by, but he hisses her name and beckons her down the hallway.

“What’s this about, Potter?” she asks warily.

“I wanted to talk to you for a minute. It’ll be quick. Please,” he says. She looks around as if nervous to be seen with him and follows, just around a corner and into an empty classroom.

Pansy is one of those girls who hardly ever seem to look any older. Her sleek black hair is cut in a bob, the way she’s always worn it, with a green headband. Her thin lips are covered in a light pink gloss, which makes her look even younger, but she’s grown into her snub nose and doesn’t remind him so much of a pug anymore. She’s almost pretty.

Pretty enough for Draco? he wonders, and then banishes the thought. Pansy’s crush on Draco in third and fourth year had beenmon knowledge amongst the student body; even if she’d grown out of it, there was no way she wouldn’t give Draco a chance if he’d asked.

“Well?” she says, shutting the door behind her.

He has no idea what he wanted to say to her.

“Thank you for your letter,” he begins, awkwardly.

“You already said that,” she reminds him. He must look baffled, because she adds, “I got your note.”

Harry flushes, suddenly feeling very small and petty.

“Right, well, erm,” he says, “I wanted to say in person. That I appreciated it. And that I don’t…blame you.”

He doesn’t, either. He hasn’t thought much about Pansy either way in a long time, but he doesn’t hold it against her that she’d wanted to live.

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” she informs him. “That’s not why I wrote you.”

Advertisement

“Then why?”

mon fucking sense, Potter,” she says. “The Wizarding World is small, and you’re probably going to be one of its influencers, even if you don’t make Minister of Magic one day. Why would I want to be your enemy?” She tosses her head a little, flicking a stray strand of hair off her cheek. “That doesn’t mean I want to be your friend, either. Disinterested but courteous acquaintances, that’s the sweet spot. I’m sure you agree.”

“Sure,” Harry says, entirely out of his depth. “Right. Glad that’s sorted, then.”

She nods once, sharply, and reaches for the door.

“I’m sorry about Malfoy,