Hestia's arch tone was a tad scathing. "Why, because he said he'd never be caught dead dating a Slytherin?" She sniffed in scorn. "For such a 'nice guy,' Trace, he sounds like a total toffee-nosed prat to me."
But Tracey adamantly shook her head. "House enmity is too ingrained into all of us, Hest. It's tradition for the four Houses to be rivals, because of personality differences. Gryffindors are diametrically opposed to Slytherins, and vice versa. It's the same with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Because of that, no one from our House has dated anyone from his House in over three decades. I'm not sure any of that is going to change within the next week, either… and then, it might not really matter, anyway."
Hestia snorted indelicately. "Then why bother following him into the Auror apprenticeship program?" Tracey bit her lip, watching the boy she'd fallen for hard laugh over something his best friend said, feeling that familiar, sweet, painful pang in her heart once more. "Because maybe outside of Hogwarts, he won't see me as a Slytherin, but as a woman."
Her friend said nothing for a long minute, contemplating her. Finally, she gave up and sighed. "I still say you weren't sorted into the right House, Trace. You've always sounded too sentimental to me to be a snake. You should have been a Hufflepuff."
Hiding her smile, Tracey did not reply to the allegation, but merely continued staring at the boy-man who had utterly captured her heart, praying for a miracle at this weekend's game. Even having a slim chance of being partnered with Harry in Eros was worth any price, as far as she was concerned. Maybe if he could see her as a woman sooner, rather than later…
If destiny was in her corner and he picked her Partnerscard, she was going to give him everything, she decided, and let the chips fall where they may. At least then she'd have the memories of a few hours in Harry's arms to recall with fondness throughout the rest of her life, if nothing else.
X~~~~~~~~~X
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland Dining Hall & second floor Women's Bathroom Friday, June 12, 1998 (afternoon)
Pansy entered the dining hall with head held high, refusing to look towards the Gryffindor table. She was sure that the filthy, raffish Weasley had told everyone by now about her little crying spell, and that he and his friends were even now snickering behind their hands at her. Well, she wasn't about to cower under their mockery. Hiding her pain behind her face, she marched with determination towards her regular spot next to Daphne, keeping her back to the rest of the room.
To her surprise, however, Daphne stood to meet her and escorted her and Tracey both out of the room by faking a need to go to the girl's loo together. They headed towards the second floor girl's bath. To their luck, Moaning Myrtle was occupied somewhere else at the moment, for the room was absent of her annoying humming and floating about.
"What's this all about?" she asked her friend, only to be interrupted by the sound of stall doors creaking as Daphne checked every pen to assure there were no other visitors about.
"You wished to discuss in private the outlandish scheme Mister Nott, Mister Zabini, and Mister Malfoy were conferring over at lunch," Daphne reminded her, waving her wand over the room and entrance to assure privacy. "They will arrive in approximately another minute or two for precisely that confrontation."
Great, just what Pansy needed – another altercation, for she was sure that was what this was going to turn into. She just knew what Draco and the others would consider proper 'attire' for tomorrow night's game, and there was no way Pansy was stooping to dressing like a whore.
"What idea?" Tracey asked. Pansy sighed. "Draco has this ridiculous idea that we're going to play 'street salt' for him and model in our underwear."
"Which sounds like a fine plan to us," Draco announced as he, Blaise, and Theo entered the woman's loo without respect for the conversation or reverence for the location.
Tracey's face went pale. "No. Absolutely not! I am not a wanton woman! I will not dress or act as one, either."
Blaise's handsome gob twisted up into a smirk. "But isn't that the point of the game to pretend to be something you're not just for one night of fun?"
Biting her lip, Tracey stared daggers at Zabini. He had a point, the slick git. Still, Pansy wouldn't back down from a similar position. It was time to set the limits on the game, and to make it clear to Malfoy that this wasn't his show alone. All of them were in it for their own ends. "I'm with Tracey, Draco. You won't see me dressed in something that leaves little to the imagination," she said, planting her hands on her hips and facing off against the three males in the room. "I've got my own sense of style and standards, and you do not dictate them to me. None of you do."
Tracey took up the space to Pansy's right and nodded, folding her arms over her chest, showing solidarity. "Agreed."
Daphne cleared her throat and also stood in the line of female authority, to Pansy's left. "I concur. This game may be one of sexual mischievousness and dalliance, but it was concurrently designed for sophisticated diversion, not common tawdriness. You may wish to indulge in such uncouth sport, but I would like to enjoy it as a game of sultry delight – a conclusive initiation, as it were, into realizing adulthood."
Theo purred. "Rowrrrr… I love it when you talk smart, Greengrass," he grinned. "Gets me hard."
Daphne sniffed with disdain. "That is no stupendous accomplishment, Mister Nott. As you have so abundantly made clear over the years, Witch Weekly seems enough to instigate the same affect upon your person."
Nott's grin took up the expanse of his handsome face. "That it does! Care to forward me your subscription as an early Christmas gift, love?"
Pansy blew a harsh breath out in growing impatience and frustration. "Fun aside, I believe you have our answer, gentlemen. We will not play sex-doll slag for you or the Gryffindors." She glanced at her two female companions, and held up a finger to block Draco's protest just as he'd started to launch his campaign to change their minds. She knew that he could be sopersuasive when he put his mind to having things his way, so it was best to cut him off before he got rolling. "However," she compromised, "I, personally, would be willing to wear a fancy dress that is stylish for the gamesomething French gothic in theme."
Malfoy raised one golden eyebrow in speculation. "And where would you have picked something like that up, Pans-dearest?" he dared to ask, smirking.
Pansy shrugged. "I couldn't decide between it and two others for the Halloween dance last October. I've been dying to wear it, honestly. This will give me the excuse."
"Is it at least marginally naughty?" Theo teased, leaning against a nearby stall and folding his arms across his tall, well-defined frame.
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