Those Wrong, Yet it's Right, Things

Chapter 18

On the human chessboard, all moves are possible.

~Miriam Schiff

"Looks like rain today, Mr. Potter," Albus Dumbledore said in greeting when the black-haired man came up over the hill.

"It hasn't rained in three years, Professor. Highly doubtful it's going to start now don't you think?"

"Ah, anything can happen, my boy."

"What are the muggles blaming it on? Global Warming, right? It always rains in England and then suddenly it stops? Not a single drop for three years." Harry shook the Headmaster's hand in greeting before his gaze found the run-down castle below.

It's figure was silhouetted in the orange sky, the sun still hugging the hill. The mansion looked dreary, much like the family that had once inhibited it. Long vines grew up the side and a dead tree hung it's limbs in front of the door, one that Harry estimated hadn't been creaked open in years, which was far from the truth.

"They all think I've gone crazy," he said after a moment's silence.

"Indeed you have, my boy, but I've been crazy for years. It does you good. Today will be a good day, Harry, I know it."

"Thank you for coming."

"Let's get started, eh?" Harry nodded and they started towards the manor's wards, which they had well learned by now.

"Jellybean?" Harry looked back at the Headmaster and saw his arm extended, a green bean-shaped candy in his hand, and just laughed.

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"You wanna head down to lunch?"

"Not just yet. I think I'll sit here and watch the rain a while longer."

"But it's not raining."

"It will be."

Pansy woke with a start, immediately noting how awful she smelled. Untangling herself from her chains, she looked towards the plate of food in the corner. She hadn't been in chains since the first week she got imprisoned here; unfortunately she struck Draco last week and had found herself back in them. Well worth the price, she assured herself.

Draco was right, there was no point in starving herself; she'd already tried a dozen times. This time she was afraid of the measures he would take to make her eat. She reached for the plate, pulling it near her. She examined it closely out of habit, even though she knew if Malfoy hadn't killed her yet he didn't have any intention to. Besides, she was the one that had threatened him with poison.

Pansy picked a green bean off the plate and popped it in her mouth, forcing herself to chew and swallow it. Disgusted, she pushed the plate away and slumped back against the wall. She'd been thinking about him again. It was all she did really. What else did she have to think about? Pansy heard his voice so many times in the middle of the night, saw his face in the shadows so often she would never believe it if she saw the real thing. Which is probably why, when Harry Potter came bursting through the only exit to her small room, it didn't faze her.

"Pansy?" a voice called in disbelief. Pansy didn't answer. You're doing it again, Pans. Malfoy told you you were going crazy. Mum and Dad told you that today too, didn't they?

He stepped in front of her and tilted her chin towards his. "Pansy."

"Great, my imagination has decided to take it one step further," she murmured to herself.

"Pansy, we have to get you out of here. Me and Dumbledore only stunned them momentarily and by the time we got past all the wards our magic wasn't that strong. We have to go." Harry looked down at her. He couldn't believe it. When him and Dumbledore had miraculously broken through the wards and he'd found a group of old Death Eaters sitting around the table, he had known she was here. He'd searched the whole manner, stunning everyone in his wake before he'd found this room. Even as he looked at her now he could hardly believe it. She was alive.

He glanced down and noticed the chains on her hands and his wand released her from her binds. Yet she didn't move.

"Pansy, we have to go." Harry couldn't believe it. Why wasn't she moving? "Pansy, it's me, Harry."

"Yeah, I know," she spat. He reached out and pulled the hair out of her eyes, hoping the touch of his fingertips would reassure her. It only seemed to frighten her. "You're dead."

"No, I'm not. Well, I sort of am. I'm going to rise from the dead tomorrow though," he said in a light manner. She just stared at him as though looking right through him. "Pansy, love, I'm keeping my end of the promise, you need to keep yours."

"Go away, Harry. What'd Malfoy do?" she said, more to herself. "Dress up one of his cronies? Polyjuice Potion. I am definitely not eating now."

"It's really me." Harry could see she still didn't believe him.

"It's always really you, Harry. I see your face all the time; I hear your voice in the night. It's always really you, yet at the same time, it never is. You're dead."

"No, I'm not."

"You're not? Fine, I'll play your little game. If you're not dead, then where have you been the past three years, huh?" She turned to look at him, staring straight into his eyes. She looked so...sad.

"Waiting for it to rain." And that's when she smelled it. Him. Lemon and Mint.

"Harry?" He nodded, smiling. She stood and reached out to touch him. "It's really you?"

"Come on, let's get out of here."

Pansy nodded. "There's just one thing I need to do first."

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She'd transported the stunned Draco Malfoy upstairs and laid him on his bed. Harry and Dumbledore were waiting for her downstairs, so she'd have to make it quick. Hurriedly, she fumbled for her wand, grabbing it out of his nightstand drawer where he'd always boasted he kept it. It hadn't taken her long to find the deadly substance in the Malfoy cellar.

Pansy binded him to the bed before removing the stun spell.

"Pansy?" he asked. "What are you...?"

"Shhh," she said, placing a finger to his lips. "This is something you're not going to win." Pulling a vial from her robe pocket she placed the edge of it on his lips. "Just a sleeping drought, my dear Draco. After all, you'll need your rest for taking over the wizarding world."

"Pansy, what are you...?" But his movement had caused the liquid to spill into his mouth, sliding carelessly down his throat. Pansy placed the vial carefully in his hand and started to leave the room.

"One more thing," she said turning around. "I was never yours. But tonight, you are mine." She carefully annunciated every word. She left the room, shutting the door behind her. It was then that muscles in his body began to seize painfully. Draco struggled to hold in a scream when he realized what she'd forced down his throat. He found just enough strength to whisper the word before he fell into a deep coma some like to call death.

Pansy saw Harry smiling at the bottom of the steps. She nodded at Dumbledore and linked her arm with Harry's.

"What'll happen to them?" she asked innocently.

"I'm going to wait around until the Azkaban guards get here. Why don't you two go back to Grimmauld Place? I suspect you'll both have a busy day tomorrow when the press gets wind you're not dead."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said before stepping outside the Malfoy Manor. "What'd you do to Malfoy?" he asked curiously, turning to the blonde beside him.

"I was just keeping a promise," she said casually. "It's over, Harry. Let's go."

Dumbledore stood in the entrance of the Malfoy Manor, watching the two leave, unaware of the body that lie upstairs on a bed. The now redish color of the sunset shone into the folds of the dead man's robes and reflected in the glass vile that he clung in his hand. As the last rays of the dying sun--for day had now passed--hit the edge of the vile, a careful observer could spot the remaining drop of liquid hanging there. But the drop fell and was soaked up by the boy's clothes. The last word he had whispered floated out the open window and over the English countryside until the ocean took the word hemlock into it's lasting hold.