She shrugged.  That was fair enough.  Her friends had always been boys.  From smug, aristocratic Draco to vulgar Greg, she understood boys.  She could hit as hard, fight as dirty, be as mean as any of them.  Delicate Daphne and her perfect manicure had always left her cold and Tracey was worse.  She’d gotten along with them, and Millie too, because only a total idiot wouldn’t find a way to be friends with girls she had to room with for seven long years, but she’d never meshed with any of them.  If you were looking for Pansy, you’d have found her two steps behind Draco Malfoy, or you would have until he’d gone and fallen madly in love with that little nerd.