Unmasked

I Need Help

A/N: TRIGGER WARNING. Mentions and descriptions of a suicide attempt and self-harm. Please don't read if you think this may be a trigger for you.

Potions rolled around bright and early the next day. The class sat chatting, Professor Slughorn having already given their lesson. Hermione emerged from the store cupboard; jars of ingredients clutched to her chest. She balanced them precariously as she set them down, then pushed some of them across the desk to Pansy.

The dark-haired girl took them, unscrewing the lid of the first one, wrinkling her nose. She sniffed it, then gagged. "What is this? And more importantly, how did he even get it in the first place."

"Trust me," Hermione grimaced. "You probably don't want to know."

Pansy nodded, unscrewing another jar. She brought out her scales while Hermione set the cauldron on the desk. She proceeded to chop the less-putrid-smelling ingredient, pushing each into a pile beside her so she could chop them finer after. Glancing up, she saw Harry and Draco a few tables away, chatting while cutting their ingredients. She grinned. Draco seemed happier today, a small smile playing on his lips as he listened to Harry blather on about one thing or another. He nodded, looking down at his ingredients, and she returned her focus to Hermione beside her.

"What are you looking at, Pansy?"

She nodded her head in their direction. "The boys."

"Which ones?"

"Harry and Draco."

Hermione watched them momentarily, stirring the potion absentmindedly as Pansy added the first ingredient. At the sizzling of the cauldron she looked back at her partner. "They're quite peculiar."

"How do you figure? I'm not disagreeing... just want to know your reasons."

"Well... their dynamic is just... weird. I mean, they have so much in common yet they're just kinda becoming friends now."

Pansy snorted. "Come on, Hermione. They aren't 'kinda' friends. They're friends. At the very least."

The Gryffindor smirked, then looked back at the pair. "You think they like each other?"

"Do I," she laughed. "If Draco isn't gay, I will eat the sorting hat."

"You think he's gay?"

"Absolutely. Man, you should hear him when he's in the common room."

"That doesn't mean he likes Harry—"

"'Saint Potter,'" she imitated, sneering. "'With his scar and his broomstick, everyone thinks he's so wonderful.' Or, 'Pansy, you'll never guess what Potter did today!' Or, or 'Perfect Potter! I'll show him. Crabbe, Goyle, help me into this tree!" She chortled, head tipped back as Hermione watched her, bemused. "Yes. I definitely think he likes Harry. I'll eat the sorting hat, Hermione. The sorting hat."

The other girl chuckled. "If you say so."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I know so. Do you think Harry likes him?"

She scrunched her brows. "I dunno. Hard to tell with Harry."

Pansy raised a brow. "It is? He's always seemed open about pretty much everything. I mean, like, he can't hide his emotions well from what I've seen. You can always tell when he's angry or upset."

"You've been paying more attention to him than I thought."

"I'm best friends with Draco. It's in my job description."

Laughter burst out of Hermione's mouth before she slapped a hand there to muffle the sound. She got a few puzzled looks, to which she blushed. She turned back to Pansy. "Actually thinking about it... yeah. Harry might like him. He's always payed extra attention to him. And Draco used to get under his skin in a way that no one else ever could. And now, with everything that's going on... I don't think that this is just his "saving people thing." I think he genuinely cares, more than just 'someone is in trouble and needs help.' You know?"