#and yet harry claims his archnemesis is draco

[yumeurl]

sharing is caring guys theres room for everyone no need to fight

[muddysnakedavis]

@procidensdraco

“But it must have been talking about Pansy Parkinson, right? She’s the one who saw -- my brother told me it was, and he heard it from a Hufflepuff prefect!”

Tracey didn’t know why the first years were bothering her. She told herself that it was just because she was less threatening than any of the other seventh year students, due to her having the lowest blood-status of the group (and yet still so much lower than any of them suspected) and not because they knew anything. Still, it made her nervous, being quizzed about the writing on the greenhouse windows -- why had she done that? She once again silently cursed the reckless rush of fear and anger that had made her think it was a good idea to cast that spell.

“I bet it was Peeves that did it!” the shortest of the little girls said, and a flare of annoyance shot through Tracey’s veins. It was one thing not to want to take credit for her handiwork (only an idiot would spread a rumor about Pansy Parkinson and then take credit) and quite another to have that credit given to Peeves the Poltergeist.

Tracey glared at the first year, then narrowed her eyes still further when a shock of white-blonde hair caught her gaze over the little girl’s head. She smirked. “If you really want to know,” she said loudly, making all the first years look at her again, “why don’t you ask Malfoy over there?” Tracey pointed, although she hardly needed to; all the first years had flinched and jerked to look over their shoulders toward where Draco sat curled in one of the tall-backed chairs farthest from the fire. It still caught Tracey off-guard, the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting by himself at the ends of the low-ceilinged dungeon room, rather than claiming a spot right in front of the fire with his burly buddies, but the first years weren’t startled by the fact that Draco wasn’t trying to be the center of everyone’s attention: it was Draco himself who made them nervous now, and they weren’t about to brave striking up a conversation to ask him anything about Pansy.

They fled, and Tracey grinned, until she realized that Malfoy was now staring at her. She suppressed a wince and swore at herself again. Why didn’t she think things through? Of course Draco would notice her saying his name, pointing at him; now what was she supposed to do?

Having no better option, Tracey made herself walk over to him as though she had planned on striking up a conversation all along. She tried to force a smile, but wasn’t sure she’d managed it very well. Still, her voice was light and cheerful at least when she said, “So were the brats right, Malfoy? Was it Parkinson who started all the kerfuffle Thursday night?” Before she could remind herself that poking at Draco Malfoy wasn’t necessarily a safe thing to do this year even when Crabbe and Goyle weren’t around to play bodyguard, she added brightly, “And if it was Potter, who are you more jealous of -- Parkinson, for knowing him at a glance the way the window said, or Potter for having someone paying that much attention to him who isn’t you?”

Tracey wasn’t stupid enough to think that Malfoy had some kind of crush on Harry Potter, the way some of their younger housemates joked -- but he certainly spent enough time whining about his archnemesis that she could see where the jokes came from. Still, that didn’t make it clever for her to throw it in his face -- but it was too late to take the words back now, dammit.