George + Draco
Draco stood there expectantly as he listened to George's story. Maybe it was true. Maybe what Weasley said was true and he didn't know. But how could he not know? How could he think Pansy the type to up and leave without a word, without a trace, if they had meant anything at all to each other? That wasn't like her, not without very good reason. George should've known. Draco would have. Draco would looked for her. Draco should've been the one... He hated George so much.
"Air. Yes." Draco left his half-finished coconut on someone's table, an audible 'HEY!' following him out of the bar. Someone was getting half a free drink and Draco didn't care to turn around.
Once there, having followed George out, Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "You're a piece of shite, you know that? Do you know how miserable she was? How could you even pretend to know her if you didn't know that- You don't know her at all. You never did." Draco wasn't going to say he was jealous, but yet...
"But now that you do know. Now that the situation is all drawn up to you in beautiful watercolour, what do you intend to do?"