Traitors Gate: The Secret Slytherin

Traitor's Gate: The Secret Slytherin

By: Ginnysdarkside

Chapter 2: Discussions and Confrontations

Dumbledore looked up from his desk. "Ah yes ... Severus, Miss Weasley. Just the people I wanted to see." He indicated a puffy, flowery upholstered chair with a wave of his hand, and Ginny sank into it politely. Snape stood for a moment longer before settling down with a mutter, his robes rustling around him.

"What was that Severus?" Dumbledore asked cheerfully. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Nothing," Snape said. "My robe was caught on the chair arm."

"Indeed ..." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and tapped the tips of his fingers gently together. His eyes were focused on Snape, therefore Ginny was startled when he addressed her instead.

"You've been busy, Miss Weasley. Professor Snape has informed me of your ... progress."

Ginny nodded and didn't look away from his gaze. "Yes, Headmaster."

He looked at her now, the usual twinkle absent from his blue eyes. "I do believe, however, that a condition of your training was that you not be placed in any danger."

"Headmaster," Snape began. "The circumstances were -"

"No," Ginny spoke up. Both men turned to look at her, their expressions startled. "It was my idea. I wanted to do it." She looked over at Snape and met his eyes. "I realize it was impetuous of me, but if there's one thing Professor Snape has taught me, it's that the unexpected always happens. This work of ours is not ... a tea party." She smirked then and, unbeknownst to her, bore a brief yet startling resemblance to Snape.

"She is careful, Albus," Snape said, arching an eyebrow at her. "And she can take care of herself; I have no fear of that. She is much like me in that regard."

"That is what I am afraid of," Dumbledore sighed. He picked a quill up off his desk and began absently stroking the plume. "One is never fully prepared for everything that may happen." He looked at first one of them and then the other, his blue eyes perceptive and inexplicably sad.

Ginny sensed Snape stiffen in the chair beside her. He cleared his throat. "Yes, Albus, but with adequate control, I believe we can keep things from getting out of hand." The two men stared at each other, their eyes saying everything even as their voices were silent, until Ginny broke the awkward moment.

"The lists, Professor, were they helpful?"

Dumbledore turned his attention back to her and nodded. "They were, Miss Weasley. We now know a great deal more about their numbers, as well as their potential targets." He took a sip of tea and changed the subject. "I understand that Voldemort wants to meet you."

"Yes." She kept her expression intentionally blank and didn't drop her gaze.

"I see Severus has taught you well," Dumbledore said. "But, tell me, child, do you truly believe you are ready for this? To accept all the consequences this may bring down upon you? You have much to lose, everything you know. Your family, your friends - you would be alone."

"Not alone," Snape interrupted.

"No ..." Dumbledore said, fixing his gaze on the Potion's Master. "You are a good mentor to her, Severus, and also, I think, a friend, but things may happen in the future that are out of our knowledge or control." The old man turned back to Ginny. "Miss Weasley, never forget that whatever may occur, you are always welcome here at Hogwarts, and you will always have a friend in me."

Ginny nodded, knowing he was trying to tell her something, to warn her of something, but what that was, she didn't quite understand.

Snape turned to her. "The other thing I wanted to speak to you about was how you are to act around your fellow students. You will need to tread a thin line, I understand it may be difficult for you, but -"

"I know," she said. "I have to make the Slytherins have a fearful respect for me."

He glared at her and shook his robes irritably. "Yes, but at the same time you need to slowly change your attitude around your own housemates. Too fast would be suspicious, but little by little you must pull away from them, while at the same time reassuring them that nothing has changed. Can you do that?"

"Yes," she said, but inside she knew it was going to be one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do.

They spoke with the headmaster for a few more minutes and then made their way down the spiral staircase. Halfway down, Ginny looked up at Snape. Their eyes met, and she searched for something to say. "I missed you," she managed finally.

He reached out and gently touched her cheek with his fingertips. "I know."

**************

The first weeks of class went by swiftly. Ginny found herself busy with her class work, her prefect duties, and the responsibilities of Snape's assistantship. Every Tuesday and Thursday she spent two hours after dinner helping him prepare potion ingredients, mark the lower year's essays, and, of course, in unspoken agreement, continuing their training. Whether Draco, who assisted him on Monday and Wednesday, ever realized he was doing more actual assisting than she remained unclear, but Ginny was fairly certain that Snape covered the discrepancy.

Unfortunately, she and Draco saw each other infrequently, but managed to spend some time together, usually studying in the library, or sneaking off to a secluded corner of the grounds, far from prying eyes.

At mealtimes, Ron continued to make disparaging comments about Draco. This grated on Ginny's nerves so much that one day at lunchtime she finally threatened to go sit at the Slytherin table if he didn't shut it.

Draco was absent from lunch that day, and Ron had merely rolled his eyes at the suggestion. "Oh, sure, Gin, cause sitting with that crew of arse-kissing ferret-lovers is infinitely preferable to your present company." He laughed and nudged Dean, who gave Ginny a worried look.

"That's it!" Ginny stood up and glared at her brother. "Ron, you are an intolerant arse, and lately I can't stand the fact that you're my brother." Ron stared at her, his mouth open in astonishment, and looked over at Harry as if begging for his support. "And yes, right now I'd rather sit with Cornelius Fudge than stay here and listen to you for another moment." She sent him a scornful glance, threw down her napkin, and crossed the room to the Slytherin table, where she plopped down in a vacant seat between Pansy Parkinson and Goyle.

The Slytherins had been distant, yet respectful of her since the beginning of the school year. Apparently there was an unspoken rule amongst them not to air their dirty laundry in public, so if Draco was having any problem with them, she had yet to hear it. Nonetheless, the table grew quiet as she sat down, and even Crabbe pulled his face out of his plate long enough to gawk at her.

Over the past weeks, Pansy had been one of the few who didn't bother to hide her distaste, but she restricted it to whispering with her mates or shooting Ginny infuriatingly superior glances when they passed each other in the corridors. At the moment, she was regarding Ginny with the same expression she might give a stray dog who had suddenly wandered into her garden.

"Can we help you, Weasley? Come to beg for scraps?" she asked, giving Ginny a dismissive glance and turning back to her food.

"Not a word, Parkinson," Ginny said, reaching for the pumpkin juice. "I just can't abide my idiotic brother anymore."

A slow smirk crossed Pansy's lips. "Took you fifteen years to figure that out though, didn't it?" She looked across the table at her best friend Blaise Zabini and arched an eyebrow. "We reached that conclusion in what? Ten seconds first year?"

Blaise smiled. The quiet, dark haired girl was somewhat of a mystery at Hogwarts. She tended to be rather aloof, saying little to any besides her chosen friends, and had a reputation for being a snob, even by Slytherin standards. Ginny knew little about her other than she wore ridiculously expensive clothes and lived with a bachelor uncle during the school holidays. She expected Blaise to remain her usual reserved self, especially given Pansy's attitude; therefore she was surprised when the girl spoke.

"You're welcome to sit with us, Weasley." Blaise looked over at the Gryffindor table and laughed softly. "Besides, I love it when your brother turns that particularly lovely shade of purple." Her eyes met Pansy's across the table, and the two girls smirked at each other. "How long did it take this time?"

Pansy feigned consulting her watch. "About fifteen seconds. It must be some kind of record."

Ginny choked on her pumpkin juice. "You keep count?"

"Actually it's a house past time," Blaise said, her eyes crinkling, which made her look mischievous in a sprightly way. "Seeing how long it takes for your brother to lose his temper and who can do it the fastest. We take wagers." She took a bite of apple and chewed thoughtfully before adding. "Draco's the undisputed champion."

Ginny couldn't help but smile. "I imagine so." She raised an eyebrow and reached for a slice of bread. Goyle pushed the basket closer to her, looking at her intently, and she thanked him absently. The shy, tall Slytherin boy had been a constant presence in her life recently. He seemed to have taken Draco's directive to heart, and while Crabbe still shadowed Draco like an overgrown orangutan, Goyle showed up wherever she was, like some strangely loyal guard dog. He tried to be discreet, but Ginny's housemates had teased her relentlessly on more than one occasion as he followed her to class or waited for her in the library. She had shrugged it off, merely stating that Draco had asked his friend to look after her. This brought a chorus of jealous sighs from the Gryffindor girls, who would tell her yet again how lucky she was to have Draco as a boyfriend.

It was strange, but it seemed to Ginny that lately she almost saw more of Goyle than she did of Draco. She was actually beginning to find his presence vaguely comforting, especially given the measuring stares the Gryffindor boys had been giving her lately. They tended to watch her and Draco when they were together, something she suspected was partly the work of Ron. She knew for a fact that he had gotten both Seamus Finnigan and one of the seventh years to ask her out, as if hoping by providing a more appropriate boy, she would leave Draco. The other reason, she felt, was that they seemed to see her relationship with a Slytherin as some kind of obscure challenge to their manhood.

Ginny made a sandwich out of the bread and some roast beef and then took a bite. She expected to spend the meal in silence, but Blaise kept speaking to her from across the table. Strangely, the reserved girl seemed to be the only one besides Goyle to accept her presence at the table with something besides resignation. Apparently Blaise had decided that her status as Draco's girlfriend entitled Ginny to a share of the conversation.

"I love your robes, by the way, I've been meaning to tell you." The brunette leaned across the table confidingly.

"Thank you," Ginny said, taking another bite of her sandwich to try to avoid continuing the conversation.

Pansy sent her a poisonous glare then smiled sweetly. "Draco bought them for her. Rumor has it you were quite the little shopper over the holiday, Ginny."

"I didn't ask him to -" Ginny replied, glaring back. Pansy merely smirked at her and started to eat again.

Blaise looked back and forth between the two of them uncertainly. "Well, wherever they came from, they're lovely. Are they handmade?"

Despite Pansy's scowl, Ginny found herself drawn into a conversation with Blaise. The girl, she discovered, was not shy at all once she started talking and had a strange, almost cheerful demeanor for a Slytherin. Her hazel eyes sparkled as she spoke, and Ginny suspected her aloofness might actually be shyness. After all, why talk when you had someone like Pansy to hide behind?

The entire time they spoke, Pansy sat next to them, attacking her food with a vengeance, her knife making vicious little screeching noises on her plate. When lunch was over, Ginny gave Pansy a sidelong glance before smiling at Blaise. "This was fun; we should work together in the library sometime." She watched with amusement as Pansy curled her hands into fists in her lap.

"I'd like that," Blaise said with an answering smile, beginning to gather her book bag together. "It's not often I find a girl who follows Quidditch as much as I do. You know, next Hogsmeade weekend we should get together. I know this great little shop off the main street that has the nicest selection -"

"I'm sure ..." Pansy inserted, "...that Weasley's not in the market for anything at the moment. Are you, Weasley?" She turned to Ginny with a cold smile. "That is, unless you bring Draco along to pay for it."

Ginny fought the urge to hex the smug look off the blonde's face. Instead she merely nodded to Blaise and headed out of the hall. Goyle stuffed the last bite of food in his mouth, shuffled quickly to his feet, and followed a few steps behind. Ginny ignored his presence. She was so angry inside.

Pansy was nothing compared to the Death Eaters, but her hateful words lodged under Ginny's skin like poisonous thorns. It would be bad enough if they tolerated each other, but Ginny couldn't stand to be around her, and it was obvious the feeling was mutual. Of all the Slytherins, Pansy was the one she worried about most. If anyone would be sneaky enough to pry into what she was really up to and have the brains to put it all together, it would be her. She was the one who was the most suspicious of Ginny's motives, and the more Ginny saw of her, she realized Pansy was also, quite possibly, the most vicious and manipulative of the Slytherins. Draco adored the girl of course, as did the rest of their house. She was their ringleader, the one who always had a taunt for the members of the other houses, and they loved her for it.

Her cheeks were burning, and she stopped at the entrance to the girl's lavatory, feeling the need to compose herself before class. Goyle slid to a stop behind her, and she felt herself suddenly growing annoyed. "Here," she snapped, handing him her book bag. "Make yourself useful and hold this." He nodded and leaned back against the wall, unperturbed at her tone, seeming to accept it as his due. Ginny sighed and entered the lavatory, reminding herself that he was probably well accustomed to that kind of treatment from Draco, if not worse.

The reflection in the mirror that stared back at her was unfamiliar. She realized with a sudden shock how much she had changed in recent months. This girl was colder looking, more confident, and she knew it wasn't only her new robes. She had changed, she thought, perhaps it was time she started acting like it. She began to run a brush through her tousled hair. At least her dealings with Pansy would give her good practice for being the Death Eater bitch. She laughed under her breath at the thought and managed not to jump as a voice spoke behind her.

"Something funny, Weasley?" Ginny looked up and met Pansy's stare in the mirror. Cold blue dueled with angry brown for a moment, and then she went back to brushing her hair calmly, forced herself to think of something unpleasant, and spoke.

"Yes, that revolting expression on your face you call a smile. I was just thinking about it."

Pansy's features twisted into rage. "How dare you?" she hissed. "You're nothing but a filthy, galleon grubbing little social climber." She approached Ginny and narrowed her eyes. "You may have everybody else fooled, including my dear sister, but if you think I'm buying your little act, you have another thing coming." She approached the sink and washed her hands, letting the excess water drip down over the edge.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Parkinson." Ginny opened a tube of lipstick and slowly applied it to her lips as if nothing was amiss.

"I think I do. I know you're hiding something, Weasley, and I intend to find out what it is. You may be the queen of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but when it comes to subterfuge, I'm the best player on the field." Pansy opened her bag, took out a compact, and began to repair her makeup with quick, ferocious movements. "I heard you had a thing for older men. One in particular, actually, although I can't help but question your taste. Honestly, Professor Snape? You know, you really should have been more careful, not that I would expect anything less from a Gryffindor." She closed the compact with a satisfied snap then turned and looked at Ginny, her expression scornful. "And now the two of you are spending all these late nights alone in his laboratory. I wonder what Draco would say if he found out? Of course, I can't imagine who would tell him such a thing."

"You better watch your mouth, Parkinson. What I do with Professor Snape is my business. Draco knows I'm one of Snape's assistants, just like the entire school. I'm expected to spend time in his lab, but I can assure you he won't take kindly to your prying. Who could say what he might do." Ginny closed her lipstick and dropped it in the pocket of her robes, then turned around to face Pansy. "As a matter of fact, I'm quite sure a few of his potions utilize scold's tongue - he'll be so pleased to know he has a fresh source."

At her words, the compact fell from Pansy's hands onto the stone floor of the lavatory, scattering powder and little shards of glass as it shattered. Pansy stared at her with wide eyes, her lips parted in shock. Ginny stared down the other girl, feeling all the lessons Professor Snape had taught her about cruelty rising to the fore.

"Don't mess with me, Parkinson," Ginny said. "This whole school thinks I'm just a sweet, innocent little girl, and I intend to keep it that way. Now, I better never hear another word out of you about Professor Snape ... Because if I do, you are going to be very, very sorry." She ran her fingers along her wand and looked at Pansy with cold, detached eyes, the way one would look at a chicken before snapping its neck. "You need to learn to stop prying into my affairs, Parkinson. It would be such a shame if something happened to you. As a matter of fact it would be absolutely ... Unforgivable."

Pansy paled and lifted her chin. "What do you mean by that, Weasley?"

"Exactly what you think I do," Ginny replied. She tilted her head a little to the side and arched an eyebrow, speaking in a conversational tone. "You know, it's a shame you're such a bitch. You and I could have been friends. But I guess there's always Blaise. She seems to like me." She looked back in the mirror and smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear, feigning a look of disinterest. "First Draco, now her - goodness, Parkinson, if you're not careful you might find you haven't any friends left at all, and wouldn't that just be terrible?"

"You stay away from Blaise," Pansy hissed. "She's my friend. Not yours!" Her fair skin was blotched red from anger, and Ginny was glad she still had one hand on her wand.

"Jealous, Parkinson?" Ginny smirked. "What's the matter? Feeling threatened I might steal your little girlfriend?"

The look of rage in Pansy's eyes faded to fear. She turned around and started to leave, but Ginny grabbed her arm to stop her as realization dawned. "You are jealous, aren't you?" She gave the other girl a discerning look and laughed. The sound was nasty, even to her own ears, and she wondered when in her training she had started to act like Snape. Once the idea had hit her, however, the words came tumbling out naturally.

"I never would have guessed that about you of all people. Then again, I suppose you never know what someone's hiding now, do you?"

"I'm not hiding anything," Pansy said, her hands shaking with rage.

"Of course not, Parkinson." Ginny checked her hair a final time. "But just imagine, the Slytherin Princess in love with another girl - oh, this is rich, and it all makes sense now. Only tell me, does she know?" Pansy didn't answer, only stared at her, her lips pressed into a thin line, and Ginny laughed low in her throat. "I thought not," she said. "It would be right tragic if she found out."

"Weasley." Pansy growled the words but the expression in her eyes was more of a plea than any kind of threat. "If you say anything ..."

"You keep my secret, I keep yours, that's the deal," Ginny said. She walked over to the door and looked over her shoulder to where Pansy stood looking blankly into the mirror. "You think on it a while and let me know."

Ginny closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. Goyle was waiting patiently outside, and she took her book bag from him and nodded towards the lavatory. "Thank you, Goyle," she said. "You don't need to follow me; I think instead you should keep an eye on Parkinson. She seems a little distraught."

He nodded, his eyes puzzled, and Ginny left him without another word. Her step was light as she headed up the staircase to Charms. Inside she felt nauseous and buoyant at the same time. Now she knew what it felt like to be a Slytherin. The feeling was frightening, but also intoxicating. She wondered when it was she had changed inside; she was stronger now, more cunning. It must have happened gradually for it to come so easily. Snape, she thought, had taught her well, he would have approved of her actions. She suppressed the little thought at the back of her mind that whispered how appalled her mother would have been.

***************************

Pansy Parkinson steadied herself on the edge of the sink until she managed to gain some semblance of control over her emotions. There wasn't even a word for how terrible this was, she thought. If Weasley told anyone, even a single person, her life was ruined. No one knew; no one save Daisy. Draco suspected of course, that was part of the reason they'd stopped dating after all, but she'd never confided in him. If her house found out, scratch that, if her family found out ... She shuddered, thinking what their reaction would be. Her mother had been confined in her room the entire week before she'd returned to school, refusing to eat, refusing to speak, and that had only been because Daisy and Erasmus had eloped. Her father had been irate, and she'd been the one who had to suffer through his long-winded diatribes about family honor. Her sister running off with a man betrothed to another was bad enough; she couldn't even imagine what they would say if they found out she was a ... No, she couldn't even say the word. She was lying to herself though, because she could imagine what they would say, just as she could imagine what they would do.

A quick look at her watch made her groan. She was going to be late for Potions. Hopefully, Professor Snape would look the other way, as he always did with the Slytherins. It was strange though, Weasley and Professor Snape. Daisy, dear trusting Daisy had told her more than she should have. She'd gone on about how much fun she'd had with the little runt while in Beijing. It was Ginny, her sister had confided in a letter, who'd given her the courage to finally run off with Erasmus. Mostly Daisy's letters were sentimental drivel, but here and there were little pieces of the puzzle that Pansy's nimble mind had united into a clear picture of events. When speaking of how much she wanted to be with Erasmus, she'd mentioned that Ginny was in a similar circumstance. Now how, Pansy had thought, was that even possible, if she was obviously already with Draco. If she was with Draco, how could she be pining for him, unless there was someone else? At that point, she'd searched back through her sister's old letters. Time and again it was mentioned, in between the otherwise long, boring stretches: Ginny had to spend the night with Professor Snape again, so Draco went out with Erasmus and I. Professor Snape had extra work for Ginny. Ginny was exhausted today, apparently she spent the whole night helping Professor Snape with a project.

It hadn't taken her long to pick up the pattern. Why, she'd thought, had Professor Snape spent so much time with the Gryffindor - whole nights sometimes by the sound of it? And why was Ginny there with him in the first place? Draco had told her that Ginny had won some sort of essay contest for the trip. She'd gone into London the day before term began, to the offices of The Daily Prophet, searching for information on any such contest. There was nothing, not a mention. There still could be one, of course, but somehow she doubted it. So she had reached the conclusion that Ginny and Professor Snape must be having some kind of affair. The thought angered her, especially after seeing the little weasel with Draco on the train. Draco was in love with her, it was apparent to anyone who really looked at them. Weasley had pretended like nothing was wrong, had acted all sweet and loving with him, when really she was only using him to hide her affair with Professor Snape. Weasley was a slut; everyone knew that, so it came as no surprise that she would move on to a Professor. Pansy respected her head of house, she really did, and really, the poor man obviously hadn't had a girlfriend in ages, so she couldn't actually blame him for succumbing to Ginny's dubious charms. But what puzzled her was why Ginny would do so. What was she getting out of it?

The notion had obsessed her. Thankfully, no one had noticed her patrolling the dungeon corridor near Snape's rooms late at night. More than once she'd caught the two of them in the hallway. They were discreet, she gave them that, but once or twice they'd slipped. Ginny would smile at him, or he would touch her arm with tender fingers, and she knew that her suppositions were right. So she had waited, bided her time, but now she didn't know what to think. It was obvious that something else was going on here too. From what Ginny had said, it sounded like she was mixing into the Dark Arts, and with Professor Snape involved that could only mean one thing.

Pansy picked up her book bag and went out into the corridor. To her surprise, Goyle was waiting for her. He looked up when she came out and shifted his weight from foot to foot. His eyes narrowed when he took in her red eyes. "You all right, Pans?"

"I'm fine," she snapped. "What's the matter, your mistress gave her puppy the day off?"

He took her comment stoically, only sending her a look that made her feel uncomfortable for coming down on him. "Is that really necessary?" he asked.

"Yes ... No ... I don't know," she sputtered. "I just hate her, Greg. She's a vicious, spiteful, conniving witch." His eyebrows shot up, and the amused look on his face made her sigh. "I know, I know, pot, kettle, black, but still ... she's using Draco, you see that don't you?"

"Actually," he said thoughtfully, "I kind of like her, she's always nice to me."

"Goyle ... you think Draco's nice to you most of the time too, that doesn't speak very well for your judgment." She started to walk down the steps to Potions class and was annoyed when he followed. "You don't have to come with me, you know."

"I know," Goyle said, "but I want to."

Pansy stopped on the bottom step and looked up at him. Even on a lower step the tall, shy boy towered over her. He was looking down at her now with an expression she'd seen with increasing frequency over the past month. Sooner or later, she'd have to deal with it, but for now, perhaps, she could use it to her advantage.

"Thank you. You know I don't mean to put you in the middle," Pansy told him. "I just think she's hiding something." She put her hand on his arm and felt him tighten under her touch. If anyone would be the one to ask about Ginny's involvement with the Death Eaters it would be Greg. Everyone knew that he and Crabbe were scheduled to be initiated this fall, like Draco would have been, if his grandfather hadn't put a stop to it.

She squeezed his arm gently and looked up at him, her smile disarming. He was staring at her with his eyes wide and hesitant. "Tell me something Greg, I have to ask. If you can't tell me I'll understand, but I want to know, is she one of you?"

His expression changed then, becoming instantly closed off. "You know I can't tell you that, Pansy." He put his hand on top of hers, and seemed about to say something else when the loud sound of a throat clearing startled them.

Snape stood in the doorway of his classroom, staring at the two of them, his black eyes cold. "Parkinson. Goyle. Snogging in the corridors? You're fortunate I'm in a forgiving mood today. Now, I suggest you both make your way to your classes." He held open the door, and Pansy slipped by him, shooting her head of house an apologetic look.

She walked into the Potions classroom, ignoring the many pairs of eyes watching her. The Gryffindors looked amused, and she saw Weasley poke Potter with an elbow and whisper something under his breath. The Slytherins took one look at her face and quickly went back to their own work. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for a vacant seat. There was only one available and she sighed when she saw where it was.

"You will work with Miss Granger in preparing the Desiccating Draught today, Parkinson, since you have finally decided to grace the rest of us with your presence," Snape said. Pansy felt her anger rising again, but she hid it, merely stalking to the empty seat and tossing her book bag under the desk.

Granger looked up from chopping daisy roots with narrowed eyes. Her knife was cutting them into precise little bits, the clear juice soaking the wooden surface of the desk. Pansy opened her Potions book to the proper page and began to review the ingredients. She then took a handful of Abyssinian Shrivel figs and began to shred them into pieces.

"You need to make them more uniform, Parkinson," Granger said after a moment.

"They're fine, Granger," Pansy replied. "Just keep that big bushy head of yours on your side of the desk and let me work." She took particular pleasure at the look of anger that flared across the Gryffindor's face and continued to shred the figs with increased viciousness. Perhaps she'd have to change her tune around Weasley, but that didn't mean she couldn't make all her little friend's lives miserable.

They worked in silence, the fumes from their heating cauldron swelling headily around them. Pansy pounded beetles into a paste with her mortar and pestle, pretending it was Weasley's head inside the little container. She hadn't realized she was grinding them too fine until she felt Granger grab her arm.

"That's enough Parkinson. We need to add them now." The other girl was looking at her strangely, her expression halfway annoyed that their potion was possibly going to be ruined and halfway curious as to what was the matter with her.

Pansy jerked her arm away. "Get your filthy hands off me, Mudblood." She sneered at the look on Granger's face and dumped all of the crushed beetles into the potion. It gave a sickening hiss at the addition and instantly turned a deep muddy brown.

"That's too much!" Granger hissed, poking the cauldron with her wand. It gave a sound like a belch, and little bubbles began to rise to the top that smelled vaguely like rotten eggs when they popped.

"You could have told me that before I threw them in," Pansy whispered fiercely back. She looked over to where Professor Snape was hovering over Parvati Patil and Seamus Finnigan's cauldron. "Quick, do something."

"So this is my fault now, is it? If you hadn't been busy insulting me and brooding over your overgrown boyfriend, this wouldn't have happened in the first place." Hermione snapped. She glared at Pansy and started to add pinch after pinch of powdered bicorn horn to the cauldron to try and counteract the obviously toxic effect of the beetles.

Pansy began leafing desperately through the Potions book. She couldn't afford to get another failing grade on a potion, not with the way this semester was already going. She ran her finger down the index and whispered, "He's not my boyfriend. Besides, you don't want to discuss that topic with me, Granger, believe me, you'll lose." She sent a significant glance over to where Ron Weasley was struggling to pry loose his hand, which appeared to be glued to the surface of his desk.

"Blast!" said Granger. She began to stir the potion counterclockwise. The bubbles were slowing now, and the smell improving. "I told him to be careful of the spider silk paste."

Her words sent Pansy scurrying down the words of the index. "That's it," she whispered. "Add some more of that, quickly." She watched as Granger added more silk paste and the potion began to emit a sweet fragrance and returned to the proper pink color. Just then a hand came down on Pansy's shoulder.

"Something the matter, ladies?" Pansy looked up into Professor Snape's hawk-like gaze. He was sniffing the air around their cauldron suspiciously.

"Nothing, Professor," Pansy said. "We're done here, I think."

He peered incredulously into their cauldron, lifting his eyebrows with surprise when he saw the contents. "Acceptable," he sneered. "But I would advise that you avoid discussing your social lives in my class in the future. It could be detrimental to the learning process if you had to serve detention. I'm sure you'd hate that, wouldn't you Granger?" He turned quickly away and bore down on Potter and Weasley who were still struggling in vain to free Ron from the desk. Harry, it appeared, had now become entangled as well.

Pansy lifted her eyes to Granger's. The girl looked relieved and she actually smiled at Pansy. "Good thinking on that silk. I should have thought of it." She began to clean up their desk with her wand.

For a moment Pansy almost forgot herself in the excitement of having salvaged the potion. But then she remembered who she was talking to. "I didn't do it for you, Granger. I just couldn't have your incompetence ruin my grade."

"My incompetence? My incompetence?" The other girl cleaned the desk with a wave of her wand and brought it in front of her in what was almost, but not quite, a threatening manner. Pansy was reminded suddenly of how the Gryffindor had slapped Draco third year, but restrained herself from pulling her own wand. "Don't even talk to me about incompetence you cow."

All the anger Pansy had been feeling towards Ginny surged up, and before she could stop herself, she leaned forward. "Don't play all high and mighty with me you prissy little Mud Blood," she hissed. "You're nothing but filth. They shouldn't even let you in this school. You're a disgrace."

They glared at each other, completely forgetting they were in the middle of Professor Snape's classroom. "You can call me what you want," Granger said. "It doesn't change the fact that you're barely inching by in this class. Everyone knows you're just passing time in this school until you can get out and marry the Death Eater of your choice. But I must say, your standards have certainly lowered this time." Her expression was scornful, and her words dripped venom.

Pansy eyed her coldly, trying to rein in her temper and regain the upper hand. "You know nothing about me, Granger. Besides, I'd say your little friend Weasley is the one thinking about that. Not me. But wait, I'd forgotten, she'll whore herself for anyone that comes along, now won't she. Tell me," she cocked her head to the side and smiled cruelly, "what exactly goes on between her and her brother. I've always heard they're very close."

Hermione extended her wand. "Why you -"

"GRANGER!"

Both girls jumped as Professor Snape's voice boomed down upon them. They looked up to see him hovering threateningly over their desk, his eyes cold in barely concealed fury. "You will not threaten another student in my classroom," he growled. "Despite the special treatment I am sure you receive in your other classes, you should recall I am not nearly so indulgent. Mr. Filch will be told to expect you tomorrow night for detention, along with every Saturday night for the rest of the month. Is that clear?"

Pansy could see the other girl struggling to contain her temper, and she smiled with malicious glee. She was shocked, however, when Professor Snape whirled on her. "Don't look so smug, Parkinson. I somehow suspect you had more than just a little to do with Granger's ill-conceived outburst. You'll serve detention Saturday as well."

"Just Saturday, that's not fair," Granger broke in. "She should get the same punishment as I."

The look on Professor Snape's face made Pansy pale. He sneered at the both of them, his features ugly in their viciousness. "As touching as your concern for your classmate may be, Granger, you were the one that pulled your wand. I notice Miss Parkinson's stayed securely on the desk throughout your little discussion. But if you are so keen on spending time together, I'm certain that can be arranged." He turned around with a swoop of his robes and stalked up to the front of the classroom.

It was only then that Pansy realized the rest of the class had already filed out. She looked around quickly and began to stuff her book into her bag, trying to ignore Granger who was fighting back tears of anger. She froze again when she heard Professor Snape continue speaking. He sat down at his desk and faced the both of them.

"Next class, you two will sit together. Since you enjoy each other's company so much, I'm assigning you as partners for the entire year. I do hope that's to your liking?" He arched an eyebrow at them and turned to marking papers. "Now," he added, without looking up from his quill. "Both of you kindly leave my classroom. I've had quite enough of your little emotional outbursts for one day."

Pansy stood up, pushed past Potter and Weasley who were waiting with angry expressions just outside the door, and stalked up the hall, her hands clenched in anger. Snape had never treated her like that before, Granger yes, but not her. Her steps slowed as she climbed the stairs towards Professor Puddelby's class, heading for her Ancient Runes assistantship. It was Weasley, she thought. He'd heard her talking about Weasley; that was why he'd been so angry. Her heels made sharp little clicking sounds on the marble as she picked up her pace again and swore she would get to the bottom of what was going on. This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

The rest of the afternoon passed in an equally unpleasant fashion. Pansy rushed through dinner, not wanting to see Draco go off with Weasley, and returned to the common room. It didn't take long for the raucous sounds of first and second years playing exploding snap to drive her back to the relative silence of her dormitory. Blaise was in there by herself, alternately studying and teasing her cat with a bedraggled hair ribbon. The black and white cat attacked the green silk fiercely for a time, then contented itself with falling asleep sprawled across Blaise's Transfiguration book.

The dark haired girl unfolded herself gracefully from the floor and plopped down next to Pansy on her four poster. "Wotcha reading?" she asked.

"Charms," said Pansy. Her voice was dour. "I can't believe we have this much work due Monday."

Blaise looked over Pansy's shoulder. "Wouldn't it be easier to study Charms if you weren't reading the Astronomy text?"

Pansy's eyes focused on her book, and she realized with a start it was a chapter on the rings of Saturn, not sleeping charms. She's been so lost in thought she'd picked up the wrong book. "Bloody Hell," she cursed, throwing the book against the wall. It landed with a thwack, startling Blaise's cat, who quickly began to wash himself as if nothing was the matter.

She stiffened as she felt Blaise's arms go around her. "Poor Pansy, rough day?" The brunette leaned her chin on Pansy's shoulder, her soft hair tickling the side of Pansy's neck. "I know what will make you feel better ... Uncle Carlo sent me chocolate today."

"Dark chocolate?" Pansy tilted her head and smiled at her friend. They were so close right now. So close that an inch more and she could kiss her on the cheek. She held her breath as Blaise bounced up, both relieved and reluctant when she let go.

"Better than that." Blaise practically skipped over to her trunk and fished around for a moment. She gave Pansy a triumphant smile and pulled out two large red and gold wrapped bars, then returned to the bed, throwing one of them in Pansy's lap. "Bittersweet chocolate with Amaretti de Saronno. My uncle just got back from Milan."

Pansy unwrapped one of the bars and took a bite, sighing as the heavenly taste melted over her tongue. "You are an angel," she told Blaise.

The other girl smirked. "That's what I like everyone to think ..." She wriggled her eyebrows and Pansy couldn't help but laugh. They ate the candy in silence for a few minutes. They'd been best friends even before their Hogwarts days, playing in the dirt, getting scolded for said activity, playing dress-up, and of course as they got older, shopping and gossiping, falling naturally into emulating the activities of Daisy or Pansy's mother. In the past year, however, Pansy had become more and more aware of her friend. At first she just dismissed it, but finally one day, when she realized she was staring at her friend's lips instead of her eyes when she talked, she realized there was a problem.

It didn't help that Blaise was pretty, better than pretty in fact. She was a perfect blend of both of her deceased parents, all the dark mystery of her Italian father tempered by her English mother's porcelain skin and petite stature. When Pansy stood next to Blaise in front of a mirror, or anywhere for that matter, she would be overly conscious of her own upturned nose and sharp features. Routinely, she would avow revenge yet again on the soul of whatever ancestor had passed them down to her. Her sister and mother both had slightly upturned noses that gave them an almost a charming quality. Hers took the phrase tip-tilted to a whole new level. Blaise, however, was beautiful, and sometimes just standing next to her was enough to drive Pansy mad.

The fact that they shared a dormitory and that they continued to do all the things friends did, changing clothes without a thought, doing each others hair, falling into a pile of legs and arms as they shared a sofa in the common room while studying, only made it more difficult. Pansy's greatest fear was that one of these days Blaise would finally notice the way she stared at her when she wasn't looking or the way she got short of breath when the other girl touched her and then ... then she would hate her forever.

And now Weasley knew. Of all the people at school to figure it out, it had to be someone who refused to be cowed, someone who would tell everyone else and laugh. It was a sickening feeling, Pansy thought, to realize you were no longer the queen bitch anymore. It was disheartening. It was terrifying.

"So, ready to tell me what's bothering you?" Blaise asked, leaning her chin on her hand and looking at her intently.

Pansy sighed and set the half eaten chocolate bar aside. "It's Weasley, that's what. She just infuriates me."

"I know she does, but be honest with me, Pansy ..." Blaise arched an eyebrow and looked at her discerningly. "Are you sure you're not just jealous?"

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and her mouth grew dry. Did Blaise suspect? Had she put two and two together at lunch time, noticing that her vindictiveness for Weasley had only reached a fever pitch after Blaise started talking to her? She plucked at the dark green coverlet of her bed. "What do you mean?" she asked finally.

Blaise put an arm around her. "It's only natural Pans, you and Draco were together for a long time, I can understand if you're upset."

A relieved little breath escaped her lips. She could deal with people thinking that. It made sense after all, and it was a good excuse for her to keep tabs on the Weaselette. She nodded halfheartedly as Blaise stroked her hair and leaned her head on her friend's shoulder.

"You need to move on, Pansy, find someone else and have some fun. You've been different since you and Draco broke up, you know you have. You're more quiet, even around me."

Pansy closed her eyes, it was so unfair. She inhaled the soft scent of Blaise's perfume. If only, if only she could tell her, but she couldn't bear to see the look of loathing that she knew would flare into those hazel eyes. Long familiar eyes that she recognized could never look at her as anything but a friend. "I know I should," she said.

"You know ..." Blaise's voice was teasing now. "Greg's been mooning around after you for the past month at least."

"Not even. If I can't do any better than Greg I'll hex myself." Pansy sat up and forced her usual sneering expression to her face. "He's loyal - I'll give you that, but first off he's not my type." She avoided looking directly at Blaise as she spoke. "Second, he's so busy chasing after the Weaslette, I'm sure he'll transfer his erstwhile affections to her in no time. Besides, I like someone else." She was horrified to hear the words come from her mouth, especially given how Blaise grabbed her shoulders and turned her around forcibly, her expression eager.

"You've been keeping secrets from me. Shame on you, Pansy Parkinson." She released Pansy and settled on the bed, drawing her feet under her. "Now spill, come on tell me everything." She rubbed her hands eagerly but must have sensed some of the horror that Pansy was feeling, because she grabbed her hand and teased. "Come on ... I'll be your best friend."

Pansy gave her a wan smile. Her mind was desperately searching for a way out of this one. "I can't." she said. "I can't tell you who it is ..." She searched for inspiration, and found it uncomfortably close to the truth. "I'm too ashamed. It's someone I never thought about until recently and now ... now I can't stop thinking about them, no matter how hard I try." She was blushing now, and it wasn't even feigned, nor were the tears welling in her eyes.

"Oh, Pansy ..." Blaise looked horrified. "Don't cry, please." Pansy could practically hear the gears whirling in her friends head as she tried to figure out the mystery. "It's not ... it's not a ... Gryffindor is it?"

Her words were like sweet balm to Pansy's tumultuous thoughts. As soon as they left her friend's lips, her cunning mind knew exactly what she had to do. Not only would it throw Blaise off track, but it would hurt Weasley as well. She just knew it would. She managed not to smile, instead letting her lips tremble.

"Blaise ..." She sobbed into her friend's shoulder and let the tears that had been threatening all day fall. Never mind that they were being used for a plot instead of release. "Blaise it's worse than that. It's so much worse."

"You can tell me, Pansy. You can tell me, I won't tell anyone, Slytherin Swear." Blaise stroked Pansy's hair soothingly.

Pansy leaned into her friend for a moment, then brought her tear stained face up to look her in the eyes. "Blaise ... It's Harry Potter."