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By Bracken Author's Notes: This is the sequel to "The Playing Field" and you may not understand the circumstances in here until you read that. Thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed and asked for a sequel. Here it is. Hope it's what you had in mind. Feedback: Oh, please? I'll love you forever Dedication: To all the reviewers, stop it you guys, I need to study! Chapter Four: All's Fair In The Quest For Dessert Herbology, Divination, Quidditch practice and just enough time for a shower before supper. Supper, Harry was very nervous about it. He roughly toweled his hair dry and inspected himself critically in the full mirror. He had pulled on old, faded blue jeans that he had always thought were too tight to wear. He was also wearing a clingy, forest green sweater that Hermione had given him last Christmas. Over the ensemble Harry pulled on a plain black, high collared robe with buttons all down the front - none of which he bothered to do up. Running his hand through his damp, somewhat tamed hair, he grabbed some old socks and set off to see Dobby. "Thanks Dobby. I really appreciate it. Thanks, all of you…" Harry called, as he backed out of the kitchens, "Enjoy the socks!" Bribery. Harry had no idea it was so easy. This thing with Draco was certainly corrupting him. Harry had been "visiting" with the house elves, who were delighted to see him and most receptive of his "gifts" of socks. In fact, they were so overjoyed by all the attention that they wanted to do something equally nice for Harry. But alas! They had nothing to give him. The house elves were *very* distraught and it was up to Harry to assure them that there was, in fact, something they could do for him. . . Simple enough. He had requested what he said was his favourite dessert to be served at supper. The house elves were only too happy to oblige. They would supply the strawberries, cream and chocolate sauce - it was up to Harry to see how creative he could be with it. The soup was wonderful, the main course as divine as always. At least, that was the impression Harry got from everyone around him. Harry didn't want the food, he found he couldn't taste it. What if dessert came and he made a fool of himself?! No, it wouldn't do to think that way. Harry lifted his fork to his mouth. If Draco was watching he shoudn't notice anything was amiss. Harry turned and joined in the heated conversation between his friends (Quidditch is better than school. No it's not!) and soon he was completely absorbed and animated. He didn't notice Draco's pale grey gaze on him from across the hall. In fact, Harry was only jolted back to reality by the arrival of dessert. . .
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