Diffraction Patterns (I Don't Know How to Forget You)

Chapter 3: Entanglement

"Why are you so..." Pansy gestured towards him. "Cheerful? You hate mornings."

"Well, I finished that stupid Transfiguration paper." He pulled the basket of toast towards himself. "Pass me the butter, would you?"

Pansy gaped at him. "You haven't eaten breakfast all term."

"Studying works up my appetite." He shrugged. "Butter, please."

She relented, pushing the butter dish towards him as he stacked three pieces of toast onto his plate. "Are you coming down with something?"

"I feel fine."

Pansy pressed her hand against his forehead. "You're a bit warm," she said, frowning. "Maybe you should see Pomfrey."

Draco scoffed at her. "You're being ridiculous."

"Morning," Blaise said sleepily, coming to sit next to Pansy. "Paper's not arrived yet?"

"Blaise," Pansy said, still squinting at Draco. "Do you think Draco looks a bit peaky?"

Blaise leaned forward to study him. After a moment, he said, "No. He could use a haircut, though."

Draco snorted, tossing a napkin at him. It landed in Pansy's porridge.

"Draco!" she snapped, fishing it out. He and Blaise sniggered. "You two are so childish."

They were interrupted as the post arrived—a copy of the Prophet dropped neatly next to Pansy's plate. "Oh, look, Draco," Pansy said, smoothing out the front page. "Some of the Death—er, some of the defendants will be appealing next month."

"Mmm." Draco picked up a slice of toast with much less enthusiasm; he had suddenly lost his appetite.

"Blaise, stop staring!" Pansy hissed. "You look so desperate. You can't just throw yourself at him!"

But Blaise was still smiling in the direction of the Hufflepuff table. Looking up, Draco saw Kevin Whitby wave at them.

"I'm still surprised you're with a Hufflepuff, Blaise," he gently teased. "I didn't know they were your type."

"What? Haven't you heard?" Blaise smirked at him. "They're patient and hardworking. In all areas."

Pansy choked on her porridge. Laughing, Draco pounded her back. He watched as Blaise winked in Whitby's direction one last time.

***

In Potions, they were starting on anti-fungals. Not only were the effects rather dull, but the brewing process itself was tedious and complicated. Draco set up his cauldron as Slughorn reminded them to stir clockwise once, anti-clockwise twice, and then half a stir clockwise before two more stirs widdershins.

"And don't forget—alkaline water!" Slughorn called out, writing his directives on the blackboard. "You won't appreciate the mess in your cauldron otherwise, I fear..."

"I had a letter from my mother last night," Blaise said as he sharpened his knife. "You won't believe the old duffer she's been seeing. I met him once—ages ago, mind you—and he's one of the worst she's ever dated, I swear. I keep telling her, she needs to—"

Draco looked up as Blaise stopped speaking. He quickly realized why: Harry was standing in front of him, Potions kit in one hand, cauldron in the other.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Harry said. "Go ahead."

"What?" Blaise asked, gawking at him. The sneer that had been there a moment earlier was wiped off his face.

Harry motioned for him to continue. Baffled, Blaise shook his head. "Er...it's fine. It's nothing important. Can I help you?"

Harry grinned at him. "Do you mind if we swap?"