The Cloak

Chapter 3

"But to you who hear I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. To the person who strikes you on one cheek, offer the other one as well...."

~Luke 6:27-29

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed when the boy seated himself at breakfast the next morning.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, pouring some pumpkin juice into his glass.

"Where were you last night, mate?" Ron questioned, picking up his bagel to take a bit. "Ze 'uys n I 'ere lookin' fer ya . Ee unded oo pay shess."

"Ron, honestly!"

"'Orry, 'Mione." He finally swallowed.

"I was in the library, working on that stupid essay Snape assigned," the Boy-Who-Lived answered, dishing some scrambled eggs onto his plate. "I wish you didn't have to take potions to be an Auror."

"Here, here," Ron seconded.

Hermione finished off her strawberry before adding to the conversation. "I was in the library last night and I didn't see you, Harry."

Harry quickly shoveled a pile of eggs into his mouth to give himself thinking time. He slowly chewed and swallowed thickly. "I was in the corner, you probably just missed me."

"Probably," the girl agreed, but a questioning look lingered on her face nonetheless.

Ron reached for another biscuit, ignoring Hermione's reaction. "You coming to Hogsmeade with us today, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure, I need to stock up anyway. And, besides, I haven't seen Fred and George in a while."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Can I see it?" she asked timidly, placing her hand gently on the broad shoulder. He twisted in his seat at the Three Broomsticks, his eyes dark and sunken, unable to hide the fact that he had gotten very little sleep.

He nodded his head towards the chair across from him. Pansy pulled out the wooden chair and sat herself on it, tucking her lower body beneath the table. She glanced out the large glass window, spotting Malfoy's missing cronies across the street, talking to two fifth year Slytherin girls. She scoffed when she saw one of the girls fidget uncomfortably and look around for an escape route; finding it nearly impossible with the two big brutes trapping her and her friend in.

She met his eyes again, that were slowly scanning her. "What?" she practically barked.

Her companion shrugged. "Was just going to suggest you watch what you eat, Parkinson; you're looking a little plump."

She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest and folding her legs beneath the table. "I weigh less than the gel you put in your hair."

He set his empty glass on the table--he had been twirling it in circles in his right hand--and leaned closer to her. "I'd choose your words a bit more carefully if I were you," he threatened in a low voice.

She smirked and leaned towards him until she was less than an inch from his face. "What are you going to do, Malfoy? Sick your fellow Death Eaters on me? That wouldn't please either of our parents...nor the Dark Lord, I dare say."

He reached out and slapped her sharply on the cheek. She kept her head where it had snapped, avoiding his eyes, and holding the back of her hand against the red, tender skin on her face.

"I may have to marry you, Parkinson, but I don't have to like you. And I'd like to remind you of just one small fact." He forced her face towards his, holding her chin tightly in his bony fingers. "Though my parents would desperately agree of our union, I assure you, there are many other pureblood, child-bearing girls that would be more than happy to be in your place."

He leaned forward and placed a harsh kiss on her lips. She pulled back and wiped her sleeve over her lips. He smirked and stood. Draco made for the door, but stopped in front of her chair and leaned down close to her ear.

"So glad we could have this chat," he growled. He placed his left arm in her view and lifted his sleeve slightly to remind her just how much power he possessed. "I'm a Malfoy, Parkinson. Don't ever forget that."

He straightened up fast and headed out the door, his cape billowing out behind him. Pansy raised her hand to her cheek again, massaging her jaw tenderly. She glared at the retreating figure through the glass, her mind swirling.

Yes, it was true there were many other girls pining after Draco Malfoy, but Pansy knew none were as qualified or would please his parents as well as her. Nonetheless, his threat hung in the smoky air, reminding her that he held all the cards.

Pansy scooted back her chair and stood, smoothing out her robes. Unnoticed, she exited and started down the snowy street. Hogwarts students bustled passed her, not even bothering to apologize when they bumped into her--a Slytherin wasn't dangerous enough alone.

She sighed heavily and decided to head back to the castle early. She turned on her heal, watching the snowflakes fly up from the action. Unfortunately, however, Pansy had turned right into the path of the Famous Trio. She took a step back and looked up at the boy she'd run into. The redhead was straightening his sweater, but the girl next to him was surveying Pansy with dangerous eyes.

"Can I help you?" she bit out harshly.

"You're not even going to apologize?" Hermione asked in a rather monotone voice.

Pansy smirked. "Nope, I have nothing to apologize for. The Weasel here rammed straight into me and now, thanks to him, I have a lovely smudge on my shoe." She placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot on the blanketed dirt road.

"Ran into you, did I?" Ron fired back hotly, his voice squeaking a bit. "You were the one with your head on your chest."

She glared at him, her blue eyes instantly masking all her previous emotions and her mind shutting out her conversation with Malfoy. Pansy took an intimidating step closer. "Watch it, Weasly," she growled. "You're lucky I don't make you pay for a new pair of these shoes because of your stupidity. Besides, your family would have to stop eating for a month to come even close to paying for just the left shoe."

Ron's hands clenched into fists and he started towards her. Harry reached out, however, and held his friend back with a strong hand. "She's not worth it, Ron."

The boy didn't even glance at his friend. "That's what you always say, Harry. But I actually think a detention with Snape would be worth an attempt to correct that ugly, pug face of hers."

Hermione stifled a giggle. Harry's hand remained firmly on his shoulder. "Mate, not today. You'll get your chance."

Ron unclenched his fists and shrugged out of Harry's grasp. He grinned. "He's right, Parkinson. You're not going to last much longer anyway."

Pansy raised her chin slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?" her nose wrinkling.

"You damn Slytherins and your Lord will get what's coming to you."

Harry glanced at his friend, startled at the menacing look on his face. Ron had become more brutal lately, Hermione less caring. War had changed everyone. What had it done to him?

Ron kicked snow up onto her robe and took off around her and down the street, Hermione trailing him. Harry made to move past her as well. He shot her a glace as he passed. To an outsider it would have appeared a glare, a warning from the Boy-Who-Lived; but Pansy saw the apology hidden behind the green pools and dipped her chin slightly, almost unnoticeably, in acceptance.

Pansy brushed off the encounter and started back up the hill to the castle. A sudden breeze blew past her, sending goose bumps up and down her arms. She shivered and shoved her hands into her pockets. Her right hand fell upon something, however, and she brought it immediately back out, grasping a tiny slip of paper.

West Tower--23:00

Her lips curved slightly upwards in one of the biggest and sincerest smiles you would ever hope to see on the face of a Slytherin. Malfoy's threats and the bold, burning image of the Dark Mark retreated to the dark recesses of her mind and she spent the remainder of her journey to the castle debating what she would wear that night.