I Think I Like Him

29. That So Impossibly Forgotten

Word count: 1365

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"Draco, whatever happened to the diary?" Pansy asked lazily from her place next to him on the common room couches.

"Diary?" He looked up at her. For a blissful moment, he truly didn't know what she was talking about.

"Y'know. Potty's diary. The one you mulled over for weeks. Ring any bells?"

"Ah. That diary."

"Yes.. what became of it? One second you were utterly obsessed with the thing, and the next, I never heard another word about it!"

Most people were outside, enjoying the first nice day since last summer, but Pansy wasn't an outdoorsy person. Being the amazing friend he was (and because Greg and Vince were in the hospital wing after a potions incident the day before), he opted to stay with her. A decision he was now beginning to regret.

He was a Slytherin, and so despite his unease, he didn't falter. "It was boring if you want the truth. I only read up to first year - once I got up to the part where he met the Weaselette, I just had to get rid of it."

She huffed, "Shame. I just know he had some juicy secrets written in there. Bitchy thoughts about the Mudblood girl... sex dreams about Professor Binns"

Draco couldn't help but snort. "Why Binns?"

She hummed, crossing her legs and leaning back femininely. "Well.. don't you think there's something about him? He's so intelligent..."

"Ah yes. His ghostly eyes make me positively swoon. Are we sure that we're talking about Potter, and not you?" he raised a brow.

"You're right. Binns would never go for Potter anyway." She winked at him.

...

"Lovely day for a walk," Hermione hummed from in front of them, squinting up at the sky.

"Lovely day for a funeral, you mean.." Ron grumbled from Harry's side, glaring daggers into the witch's back.

"What?" Harry supposed he'd been a bit absent from his two friends in the last few months. Between Draco and Black, he'd been a bit occupied.

"Ron's lost his rat," she sighed, still several strides ahead of the pair.

"Lost him? Your cat killed him! You saw him, Harry! How that mangy old thing was always looking at poor Scabbers.." Ron crossed his arms, huffing.

"Nonsense," she said. "Crookshanks wouldn't hurt a fly; you just need to take better care of your pet!" Hermione's voice always went a bit shrill when she was arguing with Ron.

"Crookshanks is a murderer."

"He isn't."

"Is."

"Isn't."

This carried on until they got to Hagrid's, who they found stood, trousers hiked to his thighs, wading around in the black lake.  

"Hagrid?" Hermione called, tilting her head.

"Oh, ello 'ermione, 'arry, Ron." His gruff voice lacked its usual jolly tone.

"Are you alright, Hagrid?" Harry said, as the large man continued to pace in the water, as though looking for something under its surface.

He suddenly grumbled, pulling out a flat-looking stone from the water and skipping it far into the distance. Harry would have been half willing to bet that it got all the way to the other side.