The Love Of A Good Wizard

You Intrigue Me, Harry

Harry managed not to have an actual conversation with any of his new housemates during dinner, staring at his plate and repelling any questions with brief 'yes' or 'no' answers until even the most stubborn gave up. Throughout, he avoided even glancing at the boy to his right, nevertheless well aware Riddle had hardly taken his eyes off him. By the time dessert appeared on the tables, his hands were shaking so badly, he dropped his cutlery with a clank, excused himself to no one in particular, and beat a hasty retreat towards the doors.

He was sufficiently on edge that the now familiar sight of Pansy was a comfort; meeting her eyes, he nodded towards the exit, and made his way there hurriedly. When she reached him, she was still looking positively shell-shocked. "Harry, bloody hell, I can't be in Gryffindor!" she moaned. "The very notion is ridiculous. No Parkinson has ever been in Gryffindor."

Harry manage a chuckle despite his nerves. "That's probably because no Parkinson has ever told a Dark Lord where to shove his wand and then bravely gone back in time to try and save the future."

Pansy paled. "Oh Merlin. I'm really a Gryffindor now?"

"Afraid so." Harry grinned.

Pansy covered her face with her hands, and Harry patted her on the head consolingly. It was a sign of her distress that she didn't complain about him ruining her hairdo. "Don't worry," he said. "You'll look good in red."

She mumbled something under her breath that sounded like 'thanks'.

Harry snickered, but his face fell when she looked at him, grinning now. "So anyway, I'm assuming that absolute doll you were staring at before, not to mention went and had dinner with, is my future beloved?"

Something twisted uncomfortably in Harry's stomach. "Yes," he snapped.

Pansy quirked a brow at him. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Harry lied, confused that he was feeling... angry all of a sudden. "So what happens now, with you in Gryffindor?"

"Well, we still have you in Slytherin. I guess you'll have to befriend him and get us together. Sing my praises and so on. It might actually work out well. It'll be a more subtle approach."

Harry glared at her. "Work out well? Pansy, I'm going to be sleeping with... in Riddle's dormitory. Need I point out that he's a murderer? A psychopath? A... a..."

"Not yet," Pansy interjected calmly. "At least as far as we know."

"I feel so much better now," Harry said cynically. "Thanks."

Pansy smirked. "Remember, he doesn't know you at all. He has no reason to hate you yet. You two have no history." When Harry sighed, she put a hand on his shoulder. "I know it must seem impossible to even think of making friends with him, but Harry... you must keep reminding yourself that he hasn't done anything to you or your family yet. And if we play our cards right, he never will."

Harry knew she was making sense, of course. "Tom Riddle does not hate me. I do not hate Tom Riddle," he murmured. He didn't believe his own words, but he knew well enough that he would eventually have to get his head around them.

"That's the spirit." Pansy looked pleased. She let her eyes drift to the Slytherin table. "He really is stunning, I must say. Don't you think so?"

Harry didn't like the way she was smirking at him at all. "How would I know?" he mumbled. "I guess so."

"Never mind." Pansy grinned. "So tell me, how on earth did Harry Potter get himself sorted into Slytherin? You didn't actually ask that miserable hat for it, did you?"

"Not bloody likely. What I should have done is to ask it not to put me there, just like I did in... well, the first time."

Her eyes went wide as saucers. "It's tried to put you into Slytherin before?" When he nodded, she giggled. "So many things start to make sense now. Well, obliviousness aside, anyway."