Omnia Mors Perimit

Potter's nose wasn't as disfigured as Draco would have liked it to be; in fact, Golden Boy had become so famous and popular by now, that even a broken nose wouldn't have changed much about his stardom. Only some months ago, Draco would have been infuriated by this, and very much frustrated, but he no longer cared. The Boy Who Lived would get what he was in for, when his great patron Dumbledore could no longer look after him. And Draco was the one to make sure of that.

One of the worst hindrance on the way to achieve this seemed to be Pansy though; she had so many claims on his time and attention, he had to come up with all sorts of excuses and ideas to escape her. And it wasn't even worthwhile the effort, was it? He received only little pleasure from her caresses, shagging her was quite all right, but regarding all the rest, it didn't pay off. In school, he even less managed to feel more for her, since there were more occasions to compare her. Next to Millicent, her stupidity was more obvious yet, for example, and even though he had claimed the opposite when arguing with his mum, Draco had the highest value for cleverness.

She wasn't even that pleasant to be with - Millicent was funnier and smarter, Greg and Vince were more bearable, at least those two wouldn't throw themselves at him and they were less impertinent, too. The only advantage was the sex thing, okay, and although only sixteen, Draco already got the impression that sex might be an overvalued option. What was so special about it? The effect wore off quite rapidly.

Whenever Dumbledore was in school, Draco didn't dare to go to the Secret Room, so he and Pansy had time to meet in a classroom in the second floor - far enough from Filch's and Snape's offices, far enough from anything really, but conveniently to reach from the dungeons, too. They were both Prefects, and thus allowed to leave the dungeons even after closing time, nevertheless, they were careful. Intercourse was certainly forbidden among students, there must be a rule about it, even if Draco hadn't actually seen it in writing, and so they always went up there one by one. It was during one of these tête à têtes, when Pansy asked him the question of all questions, and he stared at her, once again struck by her silliness.

"Shouldn't we perhaps do something about contraception, Draco, my darling?"

He opened his mouth and shut it again, taking a deep breath. "Panse," he said slowly, "you are kidding me, right?!"

"No, of course not. You see, I think it would be really pretty bad if I got pregnant while being in school still -"

"Oh, bloody hell! It would be absolutely horrible if you got pregnant while being in school still, are you crazy or what! For once, you need not worry, because you won't get pregnant, at least not from me - it's impossible, a Malfoy can never father a child without being properly married, and even then, it's a one-off, one son in one generation, that's it. But the really important thing is, the really important thing - we've had sex for six weeks or so, and you never got the notion that it might be useful to think of contraception?!"

He was out of himself, dumbfounded with so much dullness, and still, Pansy didn't seem to get it. "Relax, it's okay then, isn't it?"

"No, it bloody isn't! Pansy - are you aware what could have happened? If I wasn't who I am -"

"But you are, darling -"

"And stop calling me darling, or sweetheart, or anything like that! You've slept with me, many times over - what did you think, for good gracious' sake!"

"Well, you have never mentioned it either..."

"I didn't mention it, because I knew that nothing could happen! Still, I thought you would be considerate - it's your body, your goddamned kid, if - oh Merlin, I don't believe this!"

"It would have been your kid as well, Draco," Pansy said with a pout. "I'll be happy to be the mother of your child, just not so much as long as I haven't graduated yet -"

"Just to get that clear, Panse - I haven't got the slightest intention to make you the mother of my children, damn it! Ts! I'd want the mother of my son to be a tad smarter than that!"

"Draco!"

"I'm serious, Panse! I have no plans to marry anyone, and that includes you as well - I can hardly grasp that we're even talking about this ridiculous subject!"

"But -"

"But?! No but - you weren't truly thinking that just because we're dating, I'd drag you to the altar as well, right?!"

"Sure I didn't... What do you take me for," she moaned, avoiding to look at him, and Draco knew in the same moment that she was lying. He knew her, he could tell by her look when she wasn't saying the truth - had she really assumed that he was so serious about this all? Damn it! This was wrong, this was... She was serious, he was not - the outcome of so unequal a relationship wasn't too hard to guess. Blast it!

"Panse, I - I'm sorry, but - look, you have clearly mistaken me if you -"

"It's okay, Draco," she said quickly, flashing a smile at him again. "Don't you trouble yourself. I didn't mean to imply - well, anything of that nature... This is all I want."

"Listen, Panse, maybe... Maybe we shouldn't -"

"Codswallop. Let's forget about it at once. It's all nonsense anyway."

He knew that he should have insisted in this moment, that he should have set things right, that he should have told her that they'd never become more than this. By now, he was fairly certain about it - no matter how hard he tried, he'd never be in love with Pansy. She just wasn't what he wanted in a witch, he was mildly sorry about it, but still. All he could hope for was that her infatuation with him would fade away in time - it surely would, those things never really lasted. In their Forth Year, he had shortly had a crush on Padma Patil, finding her very beautiful, and not half as tedious as her Gryffindor twin. His apparent affection had lasted two or three months, and the last remnants had vanished when she had been made a Prefect for her house, and he had come to know her a little better.

Not long after the term had begun, Dumbledore disappeared from school, and Draco had to put an end to his meetings with Pansy anyway - he needed all the time he could afford to work on his project. This one turned out to be more intricate than he had expected - as a matter of fact, he had hoped that some simple repairing spells would suffice, and he scolded himself for his naiveté. If it was that simple, anyone would have accomplished it years ago, right after it had been broken.

He tried to find some book in the library to help him, but as far as he could say, there wasn't anything. He unobtrusively asked Madam Pince about it, but this one only shot him a sappy smile and said that she had no clue what he was talking about in the first place. He didn't dare to explain more to her, instead he flipped the mail order catalogue from Florish and Blotts, ordering every single repairing handbook that he could find, by using Greg's name. Half of them were obviously useless, and he read all the other ones in his scarce leisure time.

"What d'ya want with all that crap?" Greg asked him, shoving over another package that he had been delivered.

"Repair a bicycle, Greg, what do you think!"

"What's a by-sickle?"

"Never mind!"

"It's a muggle thing, a bit like a horse," little Belinda Crabbe said and beamed at him. "Right, Draco?"

He rolled his eyes without giving an answer, and Greg's jaw dropped. "You're about to repair some muggle stuff?"

"That was a joke, Goyle! And now mind your own business."

"And why do you know about muggle stuff, Linny?" her big brother asked suspiciously.

"It's in that book, the one's mummy used to read from," she replied unabashed. "You know, 'The Magician and The Muggle'. You should know it, too!"

"Can we drop this? I've got nothing to do with any bicycles."

"So what are you repairing then, darling?" Pansy asked now, casting a curious look at the booklet in his hands.

He ground his teeth and shot her a stern look. "I am not your darling, Panse, get that into your head. And as for what I'm repairing - it's something for my mum - I hope I can think of something to fix it and give it to her for Christmas."

"That's so thoughtful of you, dar- Draco. So what is it?"

"Hard to explain," he said evasively. "Something like a magic mirror..."

"I'm good in repairing those," Millicent now said. "My mum's terribly superstitious, I've learnt to repair shattered mirrors before I could bind my shoelaces properly. I can help you, I'm sure."

"Yeah, thanks," he groaned, and suggested she should write down all possible spells. She told him to simply give her the mirror, and he excused himself, claiming that the object in question was in Malfoy Manor, and that he'd try the spells when he'd go home for Christmas. He wasn't sure that she had bought that feeble pretext, Millicent was rather sharp - but at least, she wouldn't continue to bother him.

And perhaps the charms she had written down for him might give him a clue after all? The Vanishing Cabinet was no mirror, nothing like it, but Draco thought he could do with all help that he could get. He studied the piece of paper that Millicent had given to him, finding one little spell that he hadn't known before, one that she might have invented herself. Perhaps he could convert that spell for his own purposes?

He tried it out in the same night, but it didn't do anything, he added and removed elements, but still. His concentration went low, and when the clock tower struck three o'clock in the morning, he eventually gave up and slipped out of the Secret Room again, nearly stumbling over Filch's cat, Mrs Norris, that ghastly creature. She glowered at him for a second, before running away, undoubtedly alarming her master.

Well, he wasn't afraid of that, he could move around the castle freely, due to his Prefect status - but he wouldn't want to be caught anywhere close to the Secret Room. Filch was an idiot, but if he told Dumbledore - or Snape... Nah, he didn't want to test his luck. He took an involuntary detour, for the main staircase had moved, but at least, he didn't encounter anyone on his way back. That had been close - the next time, he might just as well come across the old caretaker himself!

The answer to this new problem was as easy as it was complicated. He'd have to take either Crabbe or Goyle, or both, to keep watch before the room. On the other hand - they were so thick sometimes, they'd be quicker found out than himself, and Snape would have no difficulties to guess the truth then. The same was true for Panse - she'd surely love to assist him, but many awkward questions would necessarily follow, and she was just as closely connected to Draco as Vince and Greg.

And if he disguised them? Put them into some old armour? The idea was good, he thought, lots of old armours were standing around in the hallways. He proposed the plan to Vince the next day, who looked rather taken aback.

"Keep watch? What d'ya mean, Malf?"

"I mean that you're supposed to stand there - nothing other than that - and warn me when someone is coming that way!"

"But why? Why you're hanging around there anyway?"

"Don't stick your nose too deeply into my dealings, Crabbe! Just do it, I'll tell you in time what I'm up to!"

"But I'm not permitted to be there at all! If Filch catches me, I'm in much more trouble than you with your Prefect badge!"

Yes, and if Vince was in trouble, he couldn't lie to Snape for his life, so much was certain... But Draco had an idea about that, too. For this, he had to break into Slughorn's storeroom, but what the hell. And it looked as if the plan was working out, too!

"Could you please let go of my hand, Panse? Really, this is embarrassing!"

She pouted, but withdrew her hand nonetheless, which was as good as it could get in this moment. Pansy had got into the habit of groping his hand, each and everywhere they were going or standing or sitting, and no matter how hard he tried, he just seemed to never get rid of her. Which was just adding up to his other problems.

They were sitting in the Common Room, he tried to concentrate on his homework for Transfiguration, but wasn't getting anywhere so far. For once, Pansy's assaults were distracting him on a five-minute basis, and then his mind was too preoccupied with more important matters than this anyway. This brilliant idea of his wasn't turning out as he had thought, although he was still convinced that the scheme in itself was excellent. Now he had only got to find a way to make it happen, and he couldn't see how he could under these circumstances.

"Can you have a look at this, baby?" Pansy cooed, slipping him her one of her own papers. "I'm not getting on -"

He clenched his teeth and tried to breathe calmly. "Panse," he growled. "How often do I have to tell you that you are not to call me baby, or sweetheart, or pumpkin, or whatever rubbish is likewise circling around your head?!"

"I'm sorry, darling -"

"There you go - you're doing it again! Haven't I just told you - not five seconds ago, really -"

"You didn't say anything about 'darling'!"

"She's right, you know," Vince munched, looking over. "You've said she ought not say 'baby' or 'sweetheart'."

"Or pumpkin," Zabini cried, shaking with laughter. Draco scowled at them all, pushing his chair back and getting up. He collected his books and parchments and stuffed them into his back, fuming with anger.

These mutton heads! And Pansy - how could she so totally humiliate him like that? On his way to his room, he almost ran over a frightened First Year, hissing at him that he was to do detentions with Mr Filch, 'for loitering around'. The boy winced back, clearly scared, and Draco couldn't but sneer. Oh sure, how could he have forgotten - he was Lucius Malfoy's son, little children were scared witless by his mere sight!

Greg was lying on his bed, flipping through Quick Quidditch and briefly looking up when Draco stamped in. "Who's spiked your tea then?"

"Well, who do you think, eh?"

"Potter?"

Despite himself, Draco had to chuckle. "No, Greg, once in a lifetime, it's not Golden Boy Potter to spoil my day. Should mark this day in my calendar, really -"

"You've seen Snape? He was looking for you."

"Nope, didn't see him. Did he say what he wants?"

"You're to come to his office, as soon as you can."

"Did he say anything else?"

"I don't think so. But you better hurry - he looked like being in a filthy mood."

"Big fat surprise, isn't it," Draco groaned, but thought he had earned to lie down for five minutes before getting yet another lecture. Draco found he was in a filthy mood himself, so they matched perfectly. He had always held the highest esteem for his Head of House, but nowadays, he avoided him as good as possible. Snape was going on and on about his assignment, getting just as cross as his stubborn student, who wasn't inclined to betray his plan, and least to the Professor. Aunt Bellatrix didn't trust him, and had warned Draco most insistently to be on his guard.

"Vince and me got detentions - got to go every evening for the next two weeks until we've caught up..."

Draco knew that his mate was waiting for him to offer his assistance, but he couldn't. He had always studied with Greg and Vince for their final exams, and it had kind of worked, until O.W.L. level. He couldn't perform miracles though, they had failed almost all of their tests and had to take them anew this year.

"Sorry, Greg, but I haven't got the time. Haven't you still got some of last year's notes?"

"Couldn't read them then either. You know, my handwriting is miserable."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Listen - remind me that the next time I write to my mother, I ask her to send me some of my own old notes. Perhaps you can use them."

"Thanks, mate! Are you - well - getting on?"

Draco didn't deign this question with an answer, but got up and left. For a moment, he had really thought that he would go and see Professor Snape, but changed his mind then. He was too dispirited to endure another rebuke, so he went through the Common Room without a word, along the corridor, past Snape's office, up the stairs to the Entrance Hall and -

Blast it. Where was he going anyway? The library was already closed down, most classrooms were locked, and the weather was too rainy to go out for a short walk. He aimlessly strolled through the deserted corridors, until he heard the familiar voices of Professor McGonagall and this one's favourite student. Good Merlin, he'd rather have detentions with Snape than meeting those two now, so he slipped into the first door that wasn't blocked. Oh - now wasn't this typical. Of all places that he could have hit, he had managed to hide himself in the girls bathroom. Terrific.

He leaned against a pillar and sacked down, putting his arms around his knees and resting his head on top. If one wanted to have five quiet minutes in this forsaken place, one had to use the girls bathroom as a sanctuary. Talking about scandalous conditions in school - had any feature writer ever addressed this topic? Outside, he could hear the Deputy Mistress and Granger talk; Draco found all his prejudices about that girl confirmed. She was a terrible swot, even at nine o'clock in the evening, she would blab to her teacher about some silly incantation, and like usually, she was her over-correct self in doing so.

"But surely these things are illegal?"

"They are not, Miss Granger, why should they be. They cause a little diversion - yes, all right, confusion maybe - that's all. People aren't sent to Azkaban for using love potions."

"Professor, if you had any idea what some of the girls are up to! Poor Harry is getting like Mad Eye Moody - he cannot dare to drink something that he hasn't prepared himself!"

"And what do you expect me to do? They're banned from this school, that's the best I can do -"

An idea darted through Draco's mind - why not use a love potion to get rid of Pansy? He could use it to make her be infatuated with someone else, and then he could finally dump her. The idea was great - now where could he get a love potion? The easiest thing would be to brew it himself, but he really didn't have the time for that. Mail-order wasn't possible either - Filch controlled the post. But if Granger was so vexed about some girls spiking Potter's tea, they must have got some, right? So one only had to obtain it from them, by purchase, bribery, or theft, if necessary.

This truly cheered him up. A small, simple plan, that would rid him once and for all of Pansy, and she wouldn't even be able to complain. Fantastic. He was in dire need of some success. He immediately returned to the dungeons, popped into Snape's office, put up with twenty minutes of urgings and sour looks, and went back to his dorm then, still feeling quite elevated.

"Greg, what would you do when you wanted to get something that's banned from school?"

"In that case, I'd ask you, Malf."

"Damn it. What about Vince's little sister - you reckon she's taken some love potions to school?"

"If she had, you'd have been the poor fool to feel the effects. You know that she's crazy about you."

Draco made a face, shuddering. Belinda Crabbe was twelve years old, square, stout, burly, every inch of her a Crabbe. Whenever Draco came across her, she started to giggle sheepishly, blushed and ran away then - the idea that this girl could use a love potion on him was revolting indeed.

"What d'ya need a love potion for?"

Draco hesitated. He couldn't tell his room mate about his plans concerning Pansy - Greg was silly enough to blab out the whole thing accidentally. He considered this, to reply lightly, "I've overheard a conversation... Wouldn't it be a great fun to sabotage that story between Granger and Weasel King? I've heard he's jealous like hell, so if she openly fancied another guy, he'd never talk to her again!"

Greg's jaw dropped open. "Wicked, mate! That's - that's bloody brilliant!"

In this moment, Vince came in, and was quickly informed by Greg about Draco ingenious plan to put an end to Weasel Bee's and Granger's attachment. He was equally enthusiastic about it, and his two mates spent the rest of the evening plotting how to do it. Draco closed the curtains and plugged his ears, focusing on his homework first. He had to get this right, or McGonagall would fulfil her threats to give him detentions, which he really couldn't afford.

He cursed his mother under his breath, feeling terribly guilty in the next moment. Yes, it was her who insisted that his education was oh-so-important; in all fairness, his father was probably saying the same. Why had they got to make it so hard for him? He had an assignment that he had to accomplish, and not just any assignment! Frankly, if his father had taken his assignment a bit more serious, he wouldn't have failed so disastrously. Aunt Bellatrix said so, too, and she had been there, she must know.

His mother's concept of accomplishment included excellence in the core school subjects, playing the piano and another instrument of choice, at least two modern foreign languages (favourably French and German, but Italian was a possibility as well), Latin, Greek, Old Norse and Gaelic of course, some basic knowledge of dancing (nothing too fancy - waltz, tango, country dances would do for a start), and most of all, extensive reading of a variety of subjects.

Unnecessary to mention that Draco couldn't but disappoint his mother's high hopes, even more since he had joined the Dark Order. Besides - being a Death Eater, nobody would bother whether he was proficient on the piano, or whether he had read Plato, or whether he could properly pronounce 'Meine Komplimente an den Küchenchef'. His father was admired and feared by people - but surely not because he knew Baudelaire's poems by heart! He had once tried to lament that his own dad wasn't capable of half of the things that his mum thought obligatory for his education, but his objection had naturally not been accepted.

"Had your grandmother taken her job a morsel more serious, he'd be far more accomplished than I ask of you, mon trésor. Come on, start again on page seven - and this time, adagio, please."

He finished his essay on transforming oneself into an inanimate object by midnight, rubbed his eyes and got up. Once he had fulfilled his job, he would sleep for two whole weeks, he promised himself, and shook Vince, who was deeply asleep and snoring. His mate needed a minute to wake up, blinked in some confusion, and groaned, "Oh no, Malf! Not again!"

"Don't make such a fuss and get up," Draco murmured, contemplating some vials in his hand. "You prefer Jacinda Montague or Diane Keats?"

"I prefer to go back to sleep, man!"

"Don't we all. Now get up, for heaven's sake. The longer you dawdle around, the longer it takes!"

Cursing under his breath, Vince obeyed and rolled out of bed, pointing at one vial. "I'll take Montague then -"

"I thought you would. You look kinda cute as a blonde."

Vince scowled at him. "Don't try your luck, Malf! I can just as well stay here!"

"You wouldn't want to displease the Dark Lord, would you? For if he asks me why I didn't come to an earlier end, I'll be forced to tell him that I lacked proper support."

His mate sighed and swallowed some of the Polyjuice Potion, transforming into Damian Montague's Second Year sister in the next moment. They quietly left the dorm, both casting a last, envious glance at the still sleeping Greg and made their way up to the Seventh Floor.

"Filch will catch us," Vince moaned, scratching his bum, which was dramatically much smaller now.

"Yes, perhaps, and if he does, little Jacinda will get detentions, and must believe she's a sleepwalker. Now hurry up."

"I can't! Got shorter legs now!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I suppose you wouldn't be very pleased if I carried you, right? Try to jog a bit."

He spent all night trying to fix the bloody Cabinet, and only stopped his efforts when he heard the clock strike six o'clock. When he came out of the secret room, he found Vince asleep and back in his usual shape. The retransformation had ripped the small uniform, that Draco had purchased for their missions, and made his mate look very silly indeed. Served him right.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing there!"

"What - where -"

"You've dozed off!"

"What - did I -"

"Drink the damned potion, so I can mend your robes, stupid! You're supposed to keep watch!"

"Get down, Malf, nothing's happened -"

"Yes, but only because we're lucky, not because you had done your job properly! If I'm blown because of your unreliability, you will come to regret it, I swear!"

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Draco... The dragon (or: Draco) doesn't sleep.