Disowned (Drarry/Pansmione)

Chapter Ten

AN: I've decided that instead of doing a perspective switch in the middle of the chapters, I'll have each chapter switch perspectives. This might mean that the chapters are a bit shorter, but I think it will be better in the long run. Hope you're still enjoying this!

"Draco Malfoy!" Pansy screeched.

Draco jumped and turned towards his old friend. "What?"

Pansy pulled him into a hug just like old times. "I heard about the troll. How could you be so stupid?!"

Draco smirked gently and hugged her back. "Nice to know you still care about my safety."

"Of course I do," Pansy responded, pulling back and looking Draco in the eyes. "You're still the same old Owlhead, even if we can't be friends anymore."

"But why not?" Draco argued. "Who decided that?"

Pansy shrugged, her expression turning colder. "Hell if I know. Now get lost, you bloody Gryffindor."

Draco stumbled back. "Pansy?"

"That's Parkinson to you, Black," Pansy sneered. "Peasant." Her short hair began to float and she let out a crazy scream unlike anything Draco had ever heard before as her feet lifted off the ground.

Draco woke up in a bad mood. He even ignored Harry's good morning and stormed into the bathroom.

"Draco? Are you okay?"

"Yes, Harry," Draco forced out. "Bad dream, that's all."

"Oh." Draco hoped that Harry would walk away, but he continued to talk. "I get those all the time. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Truthfully, Draco did, but not with Harry or Ron or even Hermione. He wanted to talk to Pansy. He wanted to make sure that she hadn't become the creature of his nightmares - the girl who could switch from friend to monster in seconds. This wasn't the first time he had had a dream like this, and they always had the same ending. Draco couldn't help but worry Pansy was never going to be his friend again. He didn't know why exactly she was turning into some demon-like creature, or how his subconscious came up with that. He couldn't remember any fairy tales with those creatures; though, if they existed, he had no doubt been told them at a very young age.

Draco met up with Hermione for breakfast ten minutes before the boys as usual. She seemed to notice his mood but decided not to comment on it, which Draco was grateful for. He didn't like being fussed over every time he was in a bad mood. He just wasn't used to it.

"Ready for the big match?" Hermione asked as they sat down to eat.

Draco groaned. "I forgot that was this week. Who are we even playing against?"

Hermione frowned. "You're the one on the team; you should be telling me."

Draco flapped a hand at her. He piled a few extra pancakes onto his plate and poured slightly too much syrup on them.

"Bad night?" Hermione guessed. Draco nodded and shoved a forkful into his mouth.

"Ihmarh," he said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you have better manners than that, being pureblood and all?"

Draco held up a finger until he swallowed. "I did," he explained. "But I think Ron has been rubbing off on me."

Hermione scoffed. "You're going to come back next year just as impolite as him, aren't you?"

"Ossiby," Draco smiled around his pancakes.