The low stone ceiling really did lose its interest after an hour or so of close study. Draco groaned; this was stupid, he knew that it was. A Malfoy didn't mope about like some lovesick puppy. Malfoy's took what they wanted when they wanted it and they would broach no argument. And yet, even knowing how a proper Malfoy should deal with the problem at hand, Draco had yet to pull himself away from the large granite slabs that were above his bed.
He knew that he should find her, apologize, make up some lovely bit of nonsense that Lucius always used to make his mother happy. Maybe tell her a few promises that he didn't intend to keep. But then what if he did intend to keep them? That was, of course, the most worrying aspect of this matter. He felt truly bad for letting Pansy kiss him. He had felt guilty for not pushing her away immediately. Draco couldn't remember the last time he had felt guilty over anything.
Now the only thing left to be done was to find the girl. Find Hermione and make her understand that he was sorry. Tell her that he was miserable when she hated him. Tell her that he missed her. But Draco would rather tell Potter that he envied his Quidditch skills before he would tell Hermione any of that romantic dribble, even if it were true. No, the only way to handle this was to tell her that Pansy had thrown herself at him, and that, as Hermione had said, he didn't owe her anything. Then he should probably try to incorporate their project into the conversation, talking about Arithmancy almost always put her in a good mood. And then, if he was charming enough, he could probably even kiss her. He had a plan now and that was good. It wasn't even eight yet; he could probably still find her in the library.
Draco pushed off the bed and strolled leisurely down the hall to the common room. He was in no hurry; he could easily picture Hermione sitting in their room working, part of her waiting for him. The thought brought a self-satisfied smirk to his face and he sped up a little, always happy to oblige.
The door to their room was slightly ajar and Draco smiled triumphantly as he pushed it open, knowing that she was there. But she wasn't, someone else was.
"Pansy?"
The Slytherin girl spun around a guilty expression on her face. She shoved something deep into her robes and stepped backwards, nearly tripping over a stack of books.
"Draco..." she murmured, sending nervous glances at the door behind him.
"What are you doing here, where's Hermione?" Draco's voice was firm but dangerous, there was something about the mutinous gleam in her eyes that he didn't like. There was something akin to triumphant on her face.
"Maybe she went for a walk?" Pansy's voice was steady but Draco could hear the apprehension underneath.
"What was that you were putting in your pocket?" Draco thought that perhaps she was stealing some of their work.
"Nothing," Pansy replied as pushed her hand into her pocket and tightened her grip.
Draco stepped forward quickly and grabbed her arm, Pansy struggled, but Draco who was larger and stronger, easily wrestled her to the table where he forced her against it, his hands trying to gain access to her pockets.
"This brings back memories, doesn't it Draco?" As if needing to emphasize her point, Pansy pressed back against him.
But Draco's hand had closed on a scrap of parchment and he pulled it out and pushed her away, "shut up Pansy," he muttered as he unfolded the note.
Pansy stayed where she was and watched as he began to read the letter. He knew that it was most definitely from Lucius, but he didn't understand, he had never made plans to meet Lucius in Hogsmeade. Draco read the letter again in confusion. He turned towards Pansy and she stepped back, stumbling this time over a book bag that had been left haphazardly in the way. Draco looked at it for a moment, his mind taking a while to put the pieces together and realize what this all meant.
