Go Fish, by Agent Pippin

Harry and Ron and, erm, Draco, have a jolly good time (mostly) playing cards. Hermione gets her nose in a book. Parvati is
frightened.

Disclaimer: the usual. Not mine. JKR's, bless her.

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"Go fish."

The sound of cards being shuffled was pretty well the only noise in the room. Ron leaned over and snatched a card from the
pile on the table, dropping back into his chair and stuffing it into his hand of cards. He glowered. "Your turn."

Hermione, looking rather smug, consulted her cards. "Got any sevens?"

"Damn it," Ron muttered, handing Hermione a card. She positively glowed and paired it with her seven, placing them both
neatly on her ever-growing pile of paired cards. Settling back into her chair, she glanced over at Harry. "Go on, Harry."

Harry sighed dramatically and perused over his hand. "Got any... queens?" he asked of Ron.

Ron looked slightly happier. "Nope. Go fish."

Muttering to himself under his breath, Harry took a card off the pile. "Your turn, Ron."

"What, nobody invites me to play cards?"

All three turned. "What the hell are you doing here?" Ron gaped, staring at who had just come through the portrait hole -
none other than Draco Malfoy.

Draco settled himself in an armchair, looking very much at home. "I have contacts, my dear Weasley. I'd hate to have a
perfectly good game of Go Fish going on without myself in attendance."

"You have contacts? What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded.

"What do you think you're doing in here? Bugger off!" Ron said at the same time.

"And what is it with you and Go Fish?" Hermione added simultaneously.

"I have contacts, Potter, contacts. Persons from whom I gather information. Unlike your bespectacled self, I happen to be
rather attractive, and as such, I can waltz into any story I damn well please," Draco said lazily. "I was told there was a
game of Go Fish going on in here, so I happened over."

"What do you mean, 'unlike your bespectacled self'? Are you saying you're better-looking than I am?" protested Harry.

Draco, however, had moved on. "As for you, Weasley, I believe I just explained myself, but for the benefit of your slow mind,
I shall repeat my explanation: I'm here because I like Go Fish."

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Draco cut him off. "And Granger, it's just a thing. Get over it."

Hermione looked offended. Ron glared daggers at Draco, who pointedly ignored them all, except for a wave of his hand and a
"Well? Get on with it."

"But how do you know the password for the portrait hole?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"And what makes you think you can just come in here and make yourself comfortable?" Ron demanded.

Draco grinned at them all with the air of someone with a bombshell in tow. "Or," he said airily, pretending to examine his
nails, "I could call in the fangirls."

Harry looked nervous. "Fangirls?"

"Destroy the place, they will," Draco said, relishing his bargaining chip. "Never leave you alone. You'd have nightmares for
weeks."

Hermione tutted. "If you think you can just come in here and sit down, Malfoy, I don't know who you think you are, but-"

She was instantly distracted as Draco conjured up an enormously thick book from midair. "Look, Granger, The History of
Medieval Potion-Making. Sound fun?"

Hermione made an indistinct noise in her throat. "Um," she said, fidgeting.

Draco tossed the book at the girls' staircase. "Go get it!"

Hermione's eyes glazed over. She leaped for the book and rolled with it to the foot of the staircase, whereupon she opened it
and began frantically scanning the insanely tiny print. Parvati Patil, sitting at a nearby table, looked startled and inched
her chair away from Hermione.

Draco turned back to the two boys. "Well then. Shall we continue?" he asked idly, picking up Hermione's cards, which had
been tossed in her efforts to get at the book.

Harry and Ron looked at each other warily. However, the threat of the fangirls was enough to sway them, and they reluctantly
picked up their cards again, shooting discreet Death Glares at Draco when he wasn't looking.

They played well into the night. No one seemed to want to die. Other Gryffindors, climbing through the portrait hole, were
initially startled at the sight of the green-and-black-robed student sitting at a table in the corner, but after thinking it
over, they decided not to ask questions. Talking to Harry Potter often resulted in painful, slow death, and/or the murder of
everyone you cared about, they found.

Some tentatively asked if they could watch, but all they got was a noncommittal shrug from Harry or Ron, and a raised eyebrow
from Draco that plainly said 'why are you asking me, it's your common room'. Most were intimidated by the Slytherin boy
sitting there, although some were not. Whispers and giggles flew through the room, and girls huddled together in groups,
chancing an occasional peek at Draco. Indeed, Agent Pippin had to be carried out of the room kicking and screaming by
trained mediwizards.

After that particular incident had been sorted out, and Draco had been given his scarf back, all three boys had two cards
left. Draco watched the other two through slitted eyes. Ron was sweating, being the one closest to the fire. Harry glanced
back and forth between Ron and Draco, and finally made his move.

"Got any fours?" he asked Draco slowly.

The blond boy didn't answer for a while. Then suddenly, a rather evil grin spread over his face. "Go fish, Potter," he
proclaimed. "I'm going to ground your pride into the dust on this one."

Harry groaned. Draco flourished his cards. "Got any sixes, Potter?"

Harry sullenly threw the card at Draco, and he turned to Ron. "Got any tens, Weasley?"

Ron looked abashed. "Yeah," he muttered, chucking a card at Draco.

Draco slapped both pairs down on his pile with exaggerated movements. "I win," he announced to the common room. "I beat your
sorry Gryffindor butts and I'm never going to let you forget it!" He then got up and did a little dance.

Everyone except Harry and Ron giggled surreptitiously. The latter two glared. Draco finished his dance and threw himself
back into the chair. "Your move, Weasley," he smirked. "Potter's finished."

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Ok, I'm sorry for leaving off like that... but I really must finish my Social Studies project. Don't worry, I'll write more
tomorrow...