Harry Potter One Shots

'Fantasising With The Enemy'

"I wonder what Harry Potter is doing right now" Draco says, leaning back in his seat and twirling his near-empty glass. It's not much of a question, but she answers anyway, her words accompanied by an eye-roll and another swig of her drink. "Probably fucking his girlfriend into the mattress," She gestures out with her hands, still holding her drink but none of it sloshes over the edge, to the untrained eye this would seem like luck, but Draco knows this is a practised manoeuvre, and one of her favourites, "Isn't that what most committed, attractive, straight men do on a Friday night?"

"Salazar," Draco grimaced, scrunching up his nose in obvious disgust, "I did not need that mental image." Pansy laughs and swirls her drink "You love that mental image."

He grimaces further and she nods her head "Minus the Weaselette, of course." He raises an eyebrow at her and she bursts out laughing - a high-pitched cackle: the laugh of a worthy witch – and Draco shakes his head at her "I do not fantasise about 'The Boy Who Lived.'"

Her attempt to school her features into a neutral expression is passable, but the amusement is clear behind her eyes. "Oh no, naturally, of course not," She smirks, "My dear, you fantasise about 'The Man Who Lived.'"

She lets out another cackle and Draco's pale skin turns a colour closely resembling that of a beetroot. "Will you stop it," he hisses, scowling at her as she pouts her red lips at him, her eyes sparkling. Pansy huffs out an annoyed little breath, "Well it's not like anyone knows who we are here," She gestures around the Muggle pub, "We could be anyone."

"Yes," He replies, his voice still with the edge of annoyance, "And anyone could be here." She takes another swig and brushes strands of short black hair from her eyes. "Darling, it's hardly front-page news."

"Draco Malfoy Pining for Potter's Pants?" He suggests.

"Fantasising with the Enemy?" She snorts.

"Oh Merlin, not puns" Draco groans, finishing off the last few dregs of drink. "You know whatever they'd print would be far worse," She rationalises, then sticks out her lip in a kind of half-pout, "Though Circe knows how they could beat 'Fantasising with the Enemy,'" She tilts her head to one side, "Maybe I should write for The Prophet."

Draco's smirk turns into a mock look of horror, "It's scary how great you'd be at that." She grins at him, "They're headlines have been lacking a certain spark lately, don't you think?" Draco rolls his eyes at her, he knows she's kidding; neither of them could even get a job cleaning the Ministry toilets if they tried, let alone writing for the front-page. He frowns, his mood has dampened significantly.

Draco wishes Pansy could do it if she wanted to, write the headlines – no matter what horrific puns may come out of it – he wants her to be happy, to be able to live a normal life. He cares more about Pansy's well-being than his own, he just wishes he could do more, but alas anything he could do would only worsen her situation. Anyone associated with 'Draco Malfoy: Ex-Death Eater' was frowned upon and unwelcomed within Wizarding society. It had gotten so bad that several of Draco's friends had even stopped communication with him all together, he hadn't spoken with the Greengrass sisters in two years.

Pansy bit her lip and changed the subject. She knows him well enough to know what's going through his head. So he sighs and goes along with it, maybe tonight won't be so bad.