King of Hearts ~ Drarry

𝕤𝕖𝕩

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟚.𝟟𝕜
𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕡𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕕: 𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟟𝕥𝕙, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘
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"You can't be serious." Pansy's voice was hushed as Harry listened through the door of the broom-closet that she was so artfully hiding in without a silencing spell.

"I am," came a reply. Harry assumed that it was Blaise.

"Well I'm not doing it," Pansy shot back, louder than Harry assumed she had wanted to. Pansy was definitely prone to being a bit histrionic when she was upset, and Harry weened that she was even more histrionic today, since this was the third outburst he had heard from her since breakfast. Harry mentally chuckled, remembering that the first one had been about Greg sneezing within a six pace radius of her. He wondered how she had so many friends, before remembered that she was, in fact, the one who was supposed to be histrionic and creative when it came to her place in their friendship. She was the one who solved problems. She was the one who did the dirty work.

"You have to be mental. You know what'll happen if—"

"—If I don't bring it up? What? This all ends? Big whoop."

"Yes. And don't act like you want it to end like that. You know very well how much she means to you."

Harry heard what sounded like shuffling, and an annoyed sigh.

"And I also know that it's not going to go over well," Pansy whispered, seemingly disappointed in something. "Hermione's... special." Wait, how did Pansy know Hermione? "And she's Harry's best friend. It wouldn't go over well at all."

"But the longer you wait, the more you're risking things. She'll be livid when she finds out that—"

"I can save my own arse, thank you very much," Pansy snapped over Blaise's voice. "I know what I need." She calmed herself down, or at least her voice. "I appreciate you helping me — or at least trying to — but I'm not a damsel in distress. I think I can handle a tiny man with glasses."

Harry stumbled back from the door. He was a tiny man with glasses! Could he be Pansy's tiny man with glasses, though? Could he be who they were talking about? He supposed so, since they had already brought him up in the conversation once. What did Pansy need that had to do with him, he wondered. And what did that have to do with Hermione?

Harry shook his head, trying to work out scenarios in his mind in which he would have to have an uncomfortable conversation with Pansy and Hermione that wouldn't go over well. No matter how much he thought about it, Harry couldn't seem to find the right fit. He decided to find Hermione, though he had absolutely no idea what kind of help she could be.

Harry sprinted down the corridor, making his way towards the stairs. He was on the fifth floor, and had been leaving the Prefect's bathroom after a shower when he had heard Pansy's hushed whisper in the broom-closet. He assumed that it was just his paranoid nature that had drawn him to listening in, but he could never really be too sure. Maybe it was out of the kindness of his own heart that he decided to make sure everything was alright. That, or the paranoid thing.

As Harry reached the stairs, he jumped onto the closest staircase and waited for it to be kind and bring him down to the fourth floor. He was expecting quick results, and when he didn't get them, he stepped off of that particular staircase and moved to another, which seemed to be moving at a faster pace. He moved to the fourth floor corridor within a few moments, and from there he went to the third, the second, and finally, the first floor.

Harry's shoes slapped the marble floors as he rushed to the library. He wasn't expecting to find Hermione anywhere else, especially now that she was trying to get something removed from said library. She spent almost every waking moment there — not that she hadn't before — and was continuously upping her hours there. At least, that's what she told Harry. He couldn't be bothered to check on her most of the time, and he trusted her.