The Love Of A Good Wizard

Consorting with the Enemy

"Harry, is there anything you'd like to tell us?" Hermione asked over breakfast the next morning.

Harry's fork remained poised in front of his mouth as he cursed whatever law of nature had Hermione knowing about every bloody thing that went on. He decided to try for innocence. "No, what do you mean?" Quickly gulping down his bite of food, he mumbled à propos of nothing, "I love it when they put chives into the scrambled eggs."

Ron, who had been chewing his lip uncomfortably, smiled at Harry. "Oh, me too!" Clearly relieved at the change of subject, he began to list his favourite breakfast foods.

Hermione would, of course, have none of it. "Oh, do be quiet, Ronald. Go on, Harry."

"Go on about what?" Bloody hell, what should he tell her?

"Well, you see..." started Hermione.

"We're probably better off not knowing," Ron interrupted, then pointed across the table. "Pass the butter?"

Harry did. "Not knowing what?" he asked reluctantly after all, because it was simply odd that Ron should not be full of all sorts of questions, considering.

Ron grit his teeth, but Hermione grinned at Harry. "You know you can tell us anything, don't you?"

"Uh, yes. I guess so." Harry scratched the back of his neck. He tried to work out whether they could possibly know what he and Pansy were up to. Either way, he was inclined to agree with Ron - his friends were better off not knowing.

"Of course you can," Hermione said sternly. "Even if you're... well..."

"Consorting with the enemy?" Ron offered.

Hermione glared at him. "Slytherins are not automatically the enemy, Ronald," she said, as if the thought had never crossed her mind before.

"Yeah, right," said Ron, thoroughly unconvinced.

Meanwhile, Harry was fidgeting. He rather thought that Riddle being Voldemort cancelled out what house he was associated with, but just as he was about to come clean and tell all, Hermione clutched his arm and squeezed. "We'd like you to know, it's fine with us if you're going out with Park... Pansy," she said, even while looking as if the name tasted bad.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I mean, she's not your usual kind of Slytherin, is she?" Hermione chatted on, sounding as if she was desperately trying to convince herself. "I suppose she's all right. And at least she spends a lot of time in the library."

Harry burst out laughing, which caused Hermione to look very offended. He was thinking fast, and realised that if he didn't want to tell his friends just why he was spending a lot of time with Pansy, he'd have no choice but to go along with their misconception. "So, you've seen us then?" he asked cautiously.

"Neville was leaving one of the greenhouses the other day and saw the both of you coming out of another one," said Ron, looking decidedly unhappy. "You were both looking kind of... flushed. Apparently."

'So would you, coming out of a greenhouse,' Harry thought. Aloud, he merely said, "Ah."

It didn't matter, because Hermione was only too happy to keep talking, now that the subject had been broached. "I saw you in the library with her the other evening, Harry, and I know you don't spend a lot of time there unless there's a really good reason." She grinned. "You were giving her a note and blushing. It was really rather cute."

Oh God! His note listing Riddle's... uh, particulars. "Thanks," Harry muttered, knowing he was blushing again.

Ron sighed. "Well, Slytherin or not, at least Parkinson is pretty ho-- Ow! Hermione!" He rubbed his shin, glaring across the table.