An Issue of Consequence

Chapter 3

"Pansy! If someone cursed me, I'd know it."

"But you wouldn't. And I'm not talking about curses. Not necessarily. I just think you're under a lot of stress."

"Stress," Draco repeated, perplexed. "I'm not stressed!" he yelled. "And if I am, it's your fault. You're just so... paranoid. It's affecting me. Things are going well this year, you know. No Dark Lord, no Carrows. I'm learning things I already know, and I have plenty of time to study. And there's quite a prominent feel of unity between the Houses if you haven't noticed." Draco decided against mentioning his 'calm before the storm' suspicions. "Gryffindors and Slytherins have never been on such good terms."

"Other Slytherins, Draco. Not you and me. We're the ones who tried to deliver Potter to the Dark Lord. Even our House is staying away because it's unwise to be seen with us."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. The situation is hardly that hopeless."

"Oh, really? You have friends I don't know about? People to talk to? Play Quidditch with?"

"There's Goyle."

"He just grunts. It doesn't count."

"You're far too picky. That's the real problem. And there's Blaise. He winks at me."

"He winks at everyone!" Pansy yelled, getting quite irrationally agitated. "It's what he does. Believe me, he's not going to talk to you in public."

"So this is about Blaise? You fancy him or something?"

Pansy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her lips were moving silently.

Draco frowned at her. "What are you doing?"

"Counting to a hundred."

"Pansy, I hate telling you this, but I think you're having a nervous breakdown."

Pansy opened her eyes. "I already had it, you idiot. I've been on potions for months."

"Oh." That explained a lot. He should have noticed. Why didn't he notice? "They're not really helping, are they?"

Pansy scowled. "There's a limit to how much you can take. I had to take a pause. But they do help. And I really think you should —"

"I'm not having a nervous breakdown. This is Potter's crazy, not mine."

Pansy wasn't listening. "I thought you were doing better. You seemed much calmer lately, but now you're at it again."

"Because of Potter. Because he's ambushing me and kissing me."

"Draco, can you hear yourself?"

"I'm not having a nervous breakdown!"

"Well, I am!" a voice cried. Draco jumped and looked around in fright. A very angry little girl stood beside them, a piece of parchment in her hand. "I was asked to give you this." She thrust the parchment against Draco's stomach, forcing him to take it. She must have stood there for quite a while, trying to attract his attention.

"Right," Draco said. "Or you're just trying to eavesdrop."

She scowled at him. "Whatever, Malfoy."

"Oh, you little brat." Draco pretended to go for his wand. "Go away."

She yelped and scurried off. Draco cursed after her.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! What's wrong with you?" Pansy cried. "See, this? This is what makes things harder for both of us. You can't bully first years! It just makes you look evil."

Draco was utterly indignant. "She was bullying me! Calling me Malfoy like that? Who is she? What gives her the right?"

Pansy stared at him. "She's three-feet tall, Draco!"

Draco resisted stomping his feet. Instead, he said, more calmly, "Excuse me. I have to read my note." It was a short note, but Draco pretended to read it for a minute, hoping Pansy would get bored and leave. He had no such luck.

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

"It's a love letter. From Potter."

She snatched the note and scanned it, scowling. It was from Slughorn, actually. He wanted Draco to stop by his office so they could discuss his Potions assignment. Draco had handed in his essay on Friday, and there was simply nothing wrong with it. It was as superb as an essay could be.

"See?" Pansy said. "He doesn't like you either."

"Maybe he wants to tell me he has never read something so brilliant." Draco snatched back the note and stepped out of the alcove.

"Draco." Pansy's tone turned softer. "I'm only trying to help, you do realise that?"

Draco waved her off and headed for the dungeons. He regretted telling her anything. A lot of good it did him. He didn't need Pansy to tell him no one here liked him anymore. He was perfectly capable of noticing that himself. What Pansy failed to understand was that there was no reason to dwell on it. They knew why no one liked them, and nothing could be done about it, anyway. Potter's behaviour, on the other hand, was a mystery in need of solving, which was what Draco planned to do, as soon as he found out what Slughorn wanted. Commending Draco on his essay definitely wasn't it.

He considered ignoring the message, but that would be unwise. His father insisted that if only Draco tried, Slughorn would accept him into his little club. His father, like his mother, had lost touch with reality, Draco was aware of this, but he didn't want to risk Slughorn sending an owl to his parents.

The door of the Potions classrooms was ajar, and Draco stepped inside, looking around. There was no one there, which only made sense. Why did he even think Slughorn would risk being late for lunch?

The door slammed shut behind him.