Forgivable Expectations

Forgivable Expectations

Chapter Five: The Art of Flattery and Masochism

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

"I suppose flattery hurts no one, that is, if he doesn't inhale."

-- Adlai Stevenson.

If there was one thing that Pansy Parkinson didn't like to indulge in, then it was regret.

It was a nasty thing, that regret. It left a bad taste in her mouth. Never solved a damn thing. It led to useless whining and discontent. She hated the stuff.

So, naturally, regret was the one thing that Pansy battled most with. However, she really did hate the stuff.

It wasn't so much a matter of conscience. She understood how things worked, and there were certain necessities to her life that weren't her fault. She hadn't asked to be born into her family. She hadn't asked to be enrolled in a boarding school that made no secret of certain... predilections that made certain other... circumventions essential to her routine. Pansy never wanted to grow up to this bitter resignation that she felt every time she looked into the faces of the people around her. She was just as much a victim of circumstance as anyone else in this day and age.

This was why, in the case of a certain Mr. Thomas, Pansy was most definitely not experiencing regret over the recent turn of events. No, she wasn't even feeling a little bit bad, because there were facts of life that couldn't-- shouldn't-- be denied.

Fact one: Pansy was a Parkinson and a Slytherin. She hadn't chosen to be either, but they were both so much a part of her identity that neither persona could be taken away without taking large chunks of her away with it.

Fact two: Pansy had a life plan that included a future marriage into a distinguished Pureblood family. There was a role waiting for her after school finished. During the past few years, her mother had been training her for how to manage a large household like, say, Malfoy Manor for example. It wasn't as easy as it seemed.

Fact three: Pansy was hopelessly in love with Draco Malfoy. Everyone knew it. There was no helping it. She had been doomed from the first enforced play-date. She might even have blamed her parents for manipulating her into loving him, but there had been other play-dates with other kids, and they hadn't resulted in this. So, of course, this meant that she and Draco were meant to be. Soul mates and all that.

Three very important facts...

... And none of which coincided with Dean Thomas' smile. None. He didn't fit the pattern. He didn't fit the goal. Therefore, he had to be eliminated. Well, not eliminated so much as removed from the equation.

Technically, that had already been accomplished yesterday afternoon.

Pansy growled in annoyance and threw her quill away from her. Theodore raised an amused eyebrow at her, but she ignored him.

Sunday morning, and they were sitting together at a table in the common room, supposedly studying. In actuality, Theodore was discretely watching Belinda Oakley cross and uncross her legs across the room, and Pansy was obsessing again.

Yes, again. She was such a bloody masochist, but she couldn't seem to help herself. The argument between her and Thomas kept replaying itself over in her head.

"In the future, I won't burden you with my baiting, and I definitely won't bother to stalk you."

She wasn't disappointed over the outcome of their argument, because she didn't have room in her life for baiting or stalking of any kind. Well, unless it was coming from a certain Malfoy boy. Thomas was just a distraction that she couldn't afford. She wasn't being selfish about it, either, because Thomas didn't need someone as... difficult as Pansy in his life. He clearly had no idea what he was dealing with.

"... I don't like you. We were partnered against my will in a class, but that's all. You don't know me. You never will."

She didn't like him. He was far too earnest and nice for her taste. Who needed that in their lives? Pansy didn't. Gryffindor mannerisms made her ill. She would rid the planet of such duplicitous annoyances if she could. Boys like Thomas just led to headaches and confusion... Kind of like what Pansy was experiencing now, come to think of it...

Damn it.

Memo to Self: Stop Thinking About Stupid Gryffindors.

Further Memo to Self: Stop Giving Yourself Headaches Over Said Gryffindors.

Even Further Memo to Self: Stop Writing Stupid Memos When Nott Is Trying To Read Over Your Shoulder.

She lifted her head to glare at Theodore, and he gave up with a shrug.

When he had returned his attention to Oakley's legs, Pansy nodded assertively to herself and grabbed desperately at her mother's missive from that morning, hoping for the distraction. It was an oddity to receive two in such a short span of time, and she had to admit that she was curious. She skipped over the usual trite pleasantries, but she paused when she came to something that caught her eye.

"Your father and I have been in correspondence with our Italian cousins, the Paravias.

Do you remember your cousin Julian? You met him once when you were young while we were vacationing in Naples. His mother, formerly of the Mancinis, is my cousin through my mother's side.

He's only a few years older than you, and he hasn't managed to acquire himself a wife as of yet. Apparently, he's been doing very well for himself over there, working for the Italian ambassador."

Pansy frowned. She had forgotten about any Italian cousins. Why was her mother suddenly corresponding with them, out of the blue? Why was she raving about a cousin that Pansy most assuredly did not remember? Her mother had never made an effort to push Pansy's marriage interests in any direction other than towards the Malfoys before.

She was starting to feel a foreboding sensation, but she read on.

"I was thinking about inviting them to vacation with us over the holidays. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Pansy made a face.

"You'd have an opportunity to get to know people from another country, and it's good to keep family ties strong."

Well, she couldn't deny that. Pansy skipped ahead a little further until a familiar name caught her eye.

"You'll want to be congratulating your friend, Millicent. Her family is experiencing an ascension into social circles they couldn't have dreamed of before now. I'm thinking of hosting a tea so that the girls and I can get to know her mother better."

Ascension? What could that possibly mean? What on earth did she have to congratulate Millicent Bulstrode about?

"I've been looking everywhere for you," Alyssa announced as she marched up to the table.

Pansy looked up at her, annoyed. "So, you decided to look in the most obvious place last?"

Theodore snorted, but Alyssa gave her an exasperated look. "Haven't you read your mail today?"

"What's it to you?" she said, instinctively tucking her letter away.

"It should mean everything to you," Alyssa said as if Pansy were an idiot. She held up a sheet of parchment. "Read this. It's from my father."

Pansy took the missive with some surprise. Slytherins weren't exactly in the habit of sharing their personal correspondence, however dull it may be.

"Why did he send it to you?" Theodore asked with a hint of a pout. He leaned over Pansy's shoulder to read.

"Because you're a disappointment," Alyssa said sweetly.

"You're also breathing down my neck," Pansy said irritably. She tried to push him away, but he resisted her and whispered into her ear, "Like it?"

She made a disgusted noise and stood up so that she could read unmolested. The letter seemed like just a lot of tripe about relatives and Mrs. Nott. There was also something about the Bulstrodes--

Wait. Bulstrode? She went back and reread the bit about Millicent's family. What were the odds that both their parents wanted to talk about that family?

"I don't understand," she admitted reluctantly. "Why should I care if your mother is inviting the Bulstrodes over for tea and hunting? Am I supposed to be jealous or something? Everyone knows that your father cheats with domesticated game."

"Parkinson," Alyssa snapped. "Don't be dense! Why would the Bulstrodes be invited over to our home?" She didn't bother denying the slight against her father's sportsmanship.

"Desperate for company?" Pansy quipped.

"No, but yours might be," Alyssa said darkly.

Pansy frowned at that. She scanned the letter again, still unsure of what she was supposed to be looking for. Blah, blah-- Mrs. Nott was faking a cough to keep their aunt from visiting-- Blah, blah-- Bulstrodes getting invited to tea-- Blah, blah-- Something about an errant house elf-- Blah, blah-- Something else about the Bulstrodes-- Geez, the Bulstrodes were getting more attention between these two letters than they ever--

Oh, no.

The bottom fell out of her stomach.

No, no, no, no.

"It was Bulstrode?" she shrieked, standing up so fast that she whacked her knees against the side of the table. Fuck.

"Yes!" Alyssa cried.

"What are you talking about?" Theodore demanded.

"There has to be some kind of mistake!" Pansy said desperately. "There's no way that... No!"

"Sorry, Pansy, but the ink's dry. The damage has been done."

Pansy couldn't believe that. It had to be a mistake. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen! Everyone knew the end to this story. Pansy marries Draco, Pansy moves into Malfoy Manor, Pansy proliferates a brood of gray-eyed, smirking children, and then Pansy completely overhauls the décor of Malfoy Manor the second Narcissa Malfoy kicks the bucket. Happily ever after, give or take a war or two.

She was going to be sick.

Theodore had snatched the letter from her so that he could read it for himself. Once he had finished, he threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, this is brilliant."

"For you, maybe," Alyssa said, smirking. Theodore grinned.

Pansy was too horrified to even contemplate what they were referring to.

She had to find Draco. He would fix this. Yes, he would explain about how this was all a complete mistake.

"Is Draco still at Quidditch practice?" she anxiously asked Theodore.

He shrugged. "Should be."

As soon as Pansy had turned her back, Theodore eagerly lunged for her mother's letter. However, as soon as his fingers touched it, the letter abruptly burst into flames. Theodore leapt back with a yelp.

"Don't touch my things, Nott!" Pansy yelled just before she disappeared behind the wall. She vaguely heard him curse at her before the wall slid back into place.

Pansy was just emerging from the top of the staircase leaving the dungeons when she saw Blaise half-hiding behind a statue. She raced up to her. "Blaise--"

Blaise held up a hand, silencing her. "Wait for it."

"Zabini--"

BANG!

The group of Gryffindor girls that Blaise had been observing abruptly began screaming as their own scarves began to strangle them.

Blaise laughed. "Idiots."

Pansy didn't have time for this. She furiously gripped Blaise's shoulders and shook her. "Zabini, it was Bulstrode! It was Bulstrode. We are fucked."

Blaise shoved her away, staring at her as if she had lost her mind. "What the hell are you blabbering about, Parkinson?"

"The promotion, damn it! It went to Bulstrode's father."

Blaise went very still. "Bulstrode?"

Pansy nodded fervently. Was the girl slow?

"Fucking Bulstrode?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

Pansy pressed her fingers against her eye sockets so that she saw stars. "Yes."

"But... He was involved? Since when? I didn't even-- How did this happen?"

"I don't know," she said miserably. If Draco couldn't tell her different, then they could both kiss any chance to joining the Malfoy clan goodbye. Pansy knew that Blaise had been humoring the idea, the stupid bint.

"We are fucked," Blaise groaned.

"I know."

"Pansy!"

Her head whipped around to see Draco coming towards them. She could have cried with relief. "Draco--" she choked out.

"I know," he said shortly, holding up his own letter. He tucked it away again and then grabbed both Pansy and Blaise by their elbows. "Come on."

Blaise rebelled against being hauled around, and she yanked her arm out of his grip, but Pansy allowed herself to be pulled back down the staircase and into the dungeons. Blaise followed at a slower, more independent pace.

"Did Bulstrode's father really get it?" she asked breathlessly.

He spared her a sideways glance. "Yes," he said tightly.

Pansy felt what little hope she had left crumble. "Oh."

Draco lead her all the way back to the Slytherin common room. "Upstairs," he spat at Theodore and Alyssa. "Crabbe! Goyle!" he called across the room. They looked over in surprise at being called, and Draco pointed towards the staircase to the girls' dorm.

"What's going on?" Raquel asked, coming up behind them.

"Get your arse upstairs," he demanded without preamble. She looked scandalized.

Without waiting to see if his orders would be followed, Draco tugged Pansy up to her room. The part of Pansy that didn't feel completely devastated appreciated his aggressively assertive behavior, but she had no idea what he was up to. She collapsed into her desk chair and buried her face in her hands. She was ruined.

Unsurprisingly, their fellow Slytherins soon filtered into the room after them.

"Who do you think you are, Malfoy?" Raquel said angrily.

"Stop talking," he said calmly.

Theodore raised an eyebrow and asked, "You brought us up here to not talk?"

"Think you can handle that?" he said dryly.

"So, we're going to ignore the elephant in the room?" Raquel said, dropping onto her bed.

"Oh, I'd say that the elephant isn't in the room yet," Theodore said, smirking.

"Just wait," Draco snapped.

Blaise was pacing erratically. Pansy looked at her friend and remembered something she had said:

"He doesn't belong to you, you know."

No, and now he never would. She had been so arrogant as to believe that she would benefit from this. Pansy felt a rush of resentment towards her father. This was his fault. He had one little job to do, and he screwed it all up. He screwed up his daughter's life as well as his own chance for advancement. He had failed her. He was useless.

The sound of the door opening made them all turn. Draco grabbed Pansy's arm and hoisted her onto her feet, placing a firm hand on her shoulder.

Millicent entered the room quietly. Her nose was buried in a book, and she made it two feet into the room before she saw them. She froze when she realized that they were all looking at her.

"Close the door, Millicent," Draco ordered.

She looked reluctant to do so, but she did as she was told.

"You've been holding out on us, Bulstrode," Blaise said menacingly.

Millicent looked between them, gauging their expressions. "I haven't--"

"How long have you known?" Blaise interrupted.

Millicent grimaced. "About the promotion?" she said timidly.

"Got it in one," Raquel said with a smirk. She was bouncing her foot and looking about excitedly as if she were at a spectator match.

Millicent gave Pansy a pleading look, but it was met with a stony glare. She was feeling far from charitable. It was only Draco's hand on her shoulder that kept her from exploding out with a stream of aimless curses and hexes... or tears if she really wanted to give her emotions free reign.

She frowned when Draco abruptly took a diplomatic step forward. "Millicent, we wanted to congratulate you," he said, smiling. "This will be good for your family."

Millicent blinked blankly at him, clearly stunned at the pleasantry.

Well, it was nothing compared to Pansy's shock. She was half-certain that her mouth was hanging open unattractively, but she couldn't be bothered to right herself.

Draco actually seemed... sincere. Of course this promotion would be good for Millicent's family! But... What the hell was Draco doing sounding sincere?

"Yeah, congrats," Theodore contributed. He gave Pansy a smoldering look and patted Millicent on the shoulder. Crabbe and Goyle made equally supportive noises.

Pansy didn't know what she was expecting from her housemates but this wasn't it. She felt stunned and hurt. Didn't they realize that her life was over? Millicent didn't need this promotion. She was going to marry someone from Durmstrang, wasn't she?

This didn't even make sense. How was this situation fair? Millicent's parents couldn't spend half as much time sucking up to the Malfoys as hers did. Millicent didn't grow up being shoved upon them for play dates with their son. She didn't have to bravely curtsy to an intimidating Lucius Malfoy on a regular basis, or compliment his wife on things she knew absolutely nothing about, or, worst of all, face the knowing expression on Narcissa's face after the attempt.

Narcissa bloody Malfoy. Millicent's mother couldn't possibly have tried so desperately to get into that woman's good graces. Pansy's mother had done everything short of drawing blood to achieve it. What had Mrs. Bulstrode done?

What had Millicent done? Pansy had reinvented the term sycophantic. Thanks to her mother, she knew everything from Narcissa's favorite color to her preferred perfume to the bloody cake she ordered at her favorite tearoom. She sent carefully selected birthday and Christmas presents every year. She dressed to perfection whenever she visited. Millicent didn't learn bloody French for her son. Hours and hours of drilling...

She winced as her head began to throb. Fuck. Did they really think that she was just going to let Millicent usurp her like this? After all of the work and effort she had put in?

Pansy caught herself, horrified at the dark images that had instantly swirled in her mind. This was Millicent.

Threat, her mind whispered. No, not a threat. Her roommate. Technically her friend.

"Pansy?"

She realized that they were waiting for some kind of verbal reaction from her. Like dogs waiting for a cue, she thought bitterly. Well, sic her!

She drew up all of her composure and gave Millicent a smirk that meant to be a smile. "Congratulations," she said flatly.

Draco gave her a pleased smile, but Millicent was right to look skeptical.

Blaise seemed disappointed at the lack of open hostility that she no doubt craved to display herself. She gave Millicent a dark look. "Bravo, Bulstrode. Maybe now you won't have to search foreign countries for someone who's willing to shag you."

"They couldn't afford the travel fees and the dowry anyway," Pansy said sullenly, moving to stand beside Blaise.

She got a few raised eyebrows at that. Millicent looked hurt, but the dark anger boiling underneath Pansy's skin blocked out any sympathy she might have felt for her. She and Blaise shared a knowing look, comrades in bitterness and disappointment.

"Oh, don't look like that," Draco interjected smoothly, putting the hand that had just been on Pansy's onto Millicent's shoulder. He gave Pansy and Blaise an amused look. "No worries, Millicent. It's just sour grapes."

Pansy clenched her mouth shut to avoid spewing something acidic at him. The sight of his hand on Millicent's shoulder planted something cold in the heat of her chest. It was clearly unnerving Millicent, too. She was looking at his hand like it was a snake waiting to strike.

Her mouth curled cruelly. Millicent couldn't handle Draco. No, Millicent wouldn't know how to handle most of the challenges of being a Malfoy-in-training. She could barely handle the attentions of her roommates as they were. Elevation in standing only meant elevation in acrimony. There would be no escape from the venom slinging that was inevitably going to occur. Millicent was going to have her work cut out for her.

Pansy would make sure of that.

* * *

The room was quiet except for the sound of her feet slapping against the floor.

Pansy paced the empty classroom with a fierce determination. She had banished all of the desks to the side of the room several minutes ago, so she had nothing to do but pace. She didn't pause until she heard the door jostle.

Draco sidled into the room. "I got your note," he said.

Pansy tossed him the sword without preamble.

Draco paused to examine the sword, but Pansy was already swinging. She cut the sword directly at his head, and she had the acute pleasure of seeing Draco's eyes widen in unanticipated fear before he could bring up his sword to block her.

She felt a surge of primal joy at the close call, and she brought the sword down again in another near miss. Draco's frustration was plain, and he couldn't seem to gain himself some advantageous distance between himself and Pansy, because whenever he tried to move, she was right there again with a brutal parry. She was half-gone with blood lust, so she didn't even hear him telling her to back off.

"Pansy! Stop-- Fuck, stop!"

This was it. She could feel it. This was the time that she would actually beat Draco. He'd promised to "relinquish all" to her once she'd finally beaten him, and she was bloody well going to collect, damn it.

Apparently fed up, Draco finally just drew up his leg and gave her a hard, downward kick to her knee. Pansy cried out in pain and fell to the floor. Her sword fell to the floor and Draco swooped down to catch it up.

"I'm not doing this with you," he said, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Not when you're like this."

"Not when I'm angry?" she said incredulously as she pulled herself to her feet. "Do you honestly think I'm just going to be cool as a cucumber when I'm dueling for real?"

"It felt pretty real when you swung that sword at me just now," he said, giving her an accusing look.

"Then let's use wands," she said, her heart pounding. "You never want to duel with wands."

"That's because I could wipe the floor with you," he said, setting the swords onto the floor.

"So teach me," she insisted.

Draco sighed. "Not when you're like this, Pans."

Her frustration boiled over and snapped. She would make him take her seriously. She marched over to where her things were lying on one of the desks and pulled her wand from her robes pocket. She went to hex him, but Draco anticipated her. He disarmed her with pathetic ease, and her wand went sailing over her head.

"Watch yourself," he snapped. He was looking considerably less patient now. Pansy took some satisfaction from that. She went to retrieve her wand, but Draco stepped forward and caught her arm. "If you pick up that wand, then I'm not responsible for what I'll have to do," he warned.

Pansy shrugged. "Okay." She brought her foot down as hard as she could onto his foot and jumped back as Draco hissed in pain. "Were you responsible for that?" she yelled.

Draco leapt forward with unanticipated speed before Pansy could think to move away. He lifted and sprung her around so that her back collided harshly with the wall. She let out a whoosh of air, but still managed to glare at Draco as he cried, "Enough with the kicking!"

"Let go!" she shrieked. "Je te tuerai!"

"Oh, really?" he sneered. "You're going to kill me, Parkinson?"

Pansy twisted and turned, desperate to be released so that she could liberate this anger and frustration that was boiling her alive from the inside. Draco was a rock, and he refused to give her any room to retaliate. He watched her with shrouded eyes as she slowly burned herself out. When her arms finally slackened in his grip, he allowed his hold to slacken.

"Frankly, Parkinson, your behavior as of late has bordered on embarrassing. You're an adult, so act like it."

"Fuck you!" she spat. Her behavior towards him didn't matter anymore, and he bloody well knew it didn't.

"Tempting," he scoffed. "But you're going to calm down now."

"I am calm," she said flatly. "Let go."

He looked far from convinced. "If I let go, are you going to try to hurt me?"

"No," she said truthfully. "I'm done."

"Right." Draco slowly backed off and away from her. He moved to the opposite side of the room and leaned against a desk. Now that he was out of harm's way, he could afford to look amused.

"Are you going to tell me what you're problem is?" he asked.

Pansy sagged against the wall. "Draco, it's over," she muttered. "We're not getting married."

He shrugged. "So, what's over? You're still you, and I'm still me. We're still us, Pansy, married or not."

Pansy had to grit her teeth against the second wave of frustration and despondency that threatened to tear her apart. Draco didn't understand. He didn't care. Her life was over and he didn't care. Hell, why should he? He was going to marry some beauty out of Beauxbatons or Blaise, and he would never look back.

"I'm going to have to marry my cousin, Julian, and move to Italy," she said miserably. "I don't even speak Italian." All those years were wasted on French.

Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Italy?"

"Yeah, he's an ambassador or something," she said, her voice breaking a little before she could help it.

Draco made a face. "Why him?"

Pansy shook her head and turned away so that he wouldn't see her inner struggle. "He's my best prospect." It hurt her to say it, but it was the truth.

"Your best prospect is not in Italy," Draco snarled from a surprisingly close proximity behind her.

"Well, it's not here!" she cried.

Draco gently tugged her around to face him. He rubbed her arms reassuringly. "You can't go to Italy. Who would keep on my case and annoy me into good behavior?"

"Your wife," she snapped, pulling away from him. "And you've never listened to me or exhibited any good behavior since the day I met you, Draco Malfoy."

"Pansy!" he said with exasperation. "There's nothing I can do, okay? Bulstrode was a long shot that pulled ahead at the last minute. What do you want from me?"

She wanted him to show at least half of the helpless anger that had been eating her alive for the past few hours. She had tried to put her feelings onto a canvas, but she hadn't had the patience, and the endeavor had amounted to nothing more than a shredded canvas and splattered pains down the front of her robes.

"So, that's it? You'll marry Bulstrode, and that's the end?"

Draco grimaced. "Pansy, please. I've just eaten. I'd sooner cut it off than marry her."

Pansy couldn't even afford to feel relieved, because it would just be someone else if it wasn't Bulstrode.

She was just so angry, and there was no outlet since Draco wouldn't physically fight her. He, on the other hand, seemed hardly affected at all. Didn't it matter to him that they would never get married? Was this the answer to the long-held, insecure question of what Draco really felt for her behind all of those kisses and touches and stupid innuendo? Nothing? Or, worse, complacency? Everyone had assumed they would be married someday. Had Draco just accepted it and behaved accordingly?

These were all important questions that she probably should have but couldn't bring herself to ask him.

"You didn't stand up for me," she said aloud. "You practically slapped me in the face today when you put your hand on Millicent's shoulder."

Draco sighed. "Pansy, I shouldn't have to explain to you that alliances are important in our lives. It's important in our house and in our future... careers."

"So, sod all when it comes to me, right?" she said. She shook her head with a bitter smile on her face. "Well, fuck you, too, Draco Malfoy."

"Stop being so melodramatic," he said irritably. "This isn't the end of the world."

She choked on a humorless laugh. No, hardly the end of his world. That probably answered her self-defeating questions.

Draco lightly touched her chin and made her look at him. "Nothing's over. You don't know what could come up. There's still hope."

She allowed him to pull her into a hug, and she buried her face in his neck. Draco lightly combed his fingers through her hair in a comforting manner, and she struggled to keep herself together.

"It's you and me, Pans," he whispered. "Never doubt that, okay?"

Pansy loved him, but she didn't believe him.

* * *

Oddly enough, there were no noticeable changes in Pansy's day-to-day routine.

Not yet, anyway.

She wouldn't admit it, but part of her had expected to be immediately abandoned if her father got passed by again. She realized now that her expectation had been irrational. Alyssa's father had a higher rank, and it didn't elevate her above Pansy. At least, she hadn't managed to successfully use the situation to her advantage yet. Maybe some people just weren't meant for leadership.

Besides, she was still Pansy Parkinson. She was still a 7^th year, pureblooded Slytherin. Her father was still a Death Eater, if something of an unimpressive one.

Now, if Blaise's father had been promoted, then there would have been immediate consequences for her. The balance of power would have shifted in painfully obvious ways. Raquel and Alyssa weren't going to win any prizes for loyalty, and Pansy wouldn't have expected anything else. They weren't Gryffindors, and Millicent's leanings hardly mattered...

Then. Or now. It was all very confusing, which would explain why she was sitting in her Herbology class, contemplating her own house politics.

"Will you pass me the mooncalf dung?" Pansy asked absently.

Thomas gave her a resentful look, but he passed it over. They were repotting their temula in relative silence, but occasionally, one of them required something from the other's side of the table. Pansy was too preoccupied to remember that she was angry with him, but Thomas didn't seem to have the same distractions.

"Can I have the measuring cup?" she asked as she jotted down some notes.

He slammed it down next to her hand, and she calmly picked it up and said, "Thanks."

Thomas' jaw clenched like he was trying to hold back some serious rancor. Her lack of reaction seemed to be nettling him worse than if she had actually spit in his eye.

"Are you done with those grubs?" she asked him.

"Ages ago," he said petulantly, shoving their container over to her. "If you weren't taking forever with that manure, then we could already be done." Several students had already vacated the greenhouse, and they were one of the last groups.

Pansy shrugged and grabbed up a handful of dirt and dung so that she could sprinkle in a few grubs. She covered them over again and sighed in satisfaction. The temula echoed her sentiment with a pleased noise.

"All right, now we're done. See you on Wednesday, Thomas," she said, leaving him to shelve their pot while she moved over to the glove bin.

She looked up in surprise when she realized that Thomas had followed her. "What? Is putting the pot on the shelf too hard for you?"

"Why are you acting like nothing happened?" he asked in an angry whisper.

Pansy frowned as she focused on tugging off her gloves. "I'm sorry, but did you want us to fail?"

Thomas made an exasperated noise. "Aren't you going to apologize?"

Pansy stared at him incredulously. "Apologize for what exactly?"

His mouth fell open in indignation. "Are you kidding me?"

"Apparently," she snapped, dropping her gloves into the bin. She wasn't surprised when he followed her over to the sink, but she said in a voice that was snide even for her, "As much fun as your Gryffindor tenacity is, I thought that you were going to quit the stalker business."

"I'm not stalking you, Parkinson!"

Pansy rounded on him and hissed, "Prove it by buggering off!"

She marched back over to their table long enough to retrieve her bag, and then she left the greenhouse. Pansy had made it all the way to the castle by the time Thomas caught back up with her.

"Parkinson!" he yelled as he jogged up the hill after her.

"What?" she cried, pausing in her footfall. "What else is there to say? I'm not coming back to your stupid club!"

"I don't care if you come to Art Club!"

"Then what could you possibly want from me, Thomas?"

Thomas sighed, and Pansy could see the anger visibly drain from him at her words. She felt a flicker of fear at its departure. She could handle an angry Gryffindor with familiar ease, but an emotional one seemed enough to send her scurrying.

"I just... want to talk to you," he said lamely.

She snorted. "Right."

"No, I do," he said.

"We have nothing else to say," she said stubbornly.

He sighed again. "Look, will you just tell me something?"

She gave him a suspicious look. "It depends."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "You can lose the paranoia, Pansy. I'm not going to ask for the password into your common room."

"Good, because I'd never give it to you." She couldn't even imagine Dean Thomas standing in the midst of the Slytherin den. The thought made her glance around nervously as she was suddenly aware of the fact that she was standing in plain sight, conversing with a Gryffindor and without a single wand pointed at anyone's throat.

He frowned. "No, I don't suppose you would."

Pansy fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, what is it?"

Thomas was still staring at her with a confusing, almost sad look that made her want to hex him if only to change his expression. "Why were you acting like that?" he asked.

Pansy groaned and grabbed his elbow. She steered him over so that they were at least standing in the shadow of the castle. "Like what?"

"Like you did at Art Club."

"Thomas, your friend was badgering me. What did you expect?"

"I'm sorry about Terry, but you weren't helping! You made it sound as if..." He trailed off, looking frustrated.

"What?" she challenged, unable to help herself. "As if what?"

"You made it seem like he was right," he said helplessly.

He was looking at her like he wanted her to deny it, and Pansy felt a tightening in her throat. Oh, boy.

Turning away from him, she took a moment to compose herself. She smoothed her hair and pretended to contemplate the scenery so that she could consider what there was to say. Some things were just too dangerous to confirm, but...

Pansy looked at him over her shoulder. "What if it were true?" she said quietly.

Thomas' mouth pinched, and the sudden fire in his eyes suggested anger. "That you were happy about those deaths?" he said tensely.

"Yes."

"If you told me that, then I'd call you a liar," he said coldly.

Pansy frowned. "Thomas--"

"You can call me Dean," he snapped.

"Well, when you put it so nicely," she said incredulously, putting her hands on her hips.

"I mean, who do you think that you're fooling with this attitude?" he continued. "Is this some kind of show for my benefit? If it is, then I'm not buying it!" His hands were clenching and unclenching, and Pansy suddenly had the irrational urge to see how far she could push him until he finally snapped from frustration and hit her.

"Who's fooling?" she murmured with an imitation of Draco's smirk as she edged closer to him. If good old-fashioned reason wasn't going to cut it, then there was always intimidation.

"Stop that!" he cried, backing away from her. "You're trying to provoke me!"

Yes. Pansy pursued him, but she lost the smirk. "Look, Thomas," she said firmly. "The only way you and I are going to survive this partner thing is if you let go of these delusions you've obviously created about me. And you need to stop making this so... personal, okay?"

Thomas stopped backing away and simply stared at her, looking genuinely confused. "How is this not personal between us?"

Pansy felt the flush crawl up her neck. "It's not. You and I never would have even spoken if it weren't for--"

"The partner thing," he concluded bitterly.

"Yes."

"No. Pansy, we see each other every day--"

"So what? We've never spoken--"

"We've spoken!"

"'Excuse me, you're standing on my foot,' or 'Shove off, Malfoy, and take your girlfriend with you' don't count."

Thomas made a strangled noise. "Why does every step forward with you result in three steps backward?"

Pansy couldn't help feeling some amusement at his blatant frustration. "What step forward are you thinking of exactly?"

He must have caught the amusement in her eyes, because his expression immediately softened. "That day out in the gardens."

"You mean right before you ruined everything by insulting my favorite teacher?"

"Exactly! And then the night on the Quidditch pitch..."

"I broke your nose!"

"Yes! Then, you actually came to the Art Club meeting, but you freaked out and somehow managed to insult everyone there. See? The Snape indignation, the nose, and the freak-out equal three steps backward! And if each step backward is equal to three, then it's actually nine steps backward! Damn, Parkinson!"

But three steps forward, she was tempted to add, but that would only have encouraged him.

Pansy shook her head and smirked wryly. "So, you've proven that dealing with me is exhausting. Now, tell me why you're bothering," she said. "What's with the sudden interest? This isn't part of some Gryffindor outreach program, is it?"

Dean smiled and gave her such an open, sincere look that she felt a lump rise in her throat, and she had to look away before she read too much. He couldn't realize what he was doing in revealing so much to her.

"You know what this is about," he said softly. "You've felt--"

"What have I felt?" she pushed, feeling slivers of fear crawl up her back.

"This," he said, indicating between them.

"No!" she snapped impatiently, making him blink in surprise. "You have to be more specific than that." He needed to know exactly what he was flirting with here. It was too important to just brush aside. He wasn't going to understand why this couldn't happen.

Dean flushed a little, but he still surprised her by lightly brushing his fingers against hers before taking her hand in his. Her skin tingled all the way up to her elbow in response. Pansy's breathing sped up as her heart began to pound faster. She had spent the whole day walking around in a kind of blank, empty stupor, but the tingling felt like an awakening. What was he doing to her?

However, his boldness in the face of humiliation savagely reminded her that he was a Gryffindor for a reason.

Pansy shuddered and quickly searched her brain for those reasons why this could never happen. What were they again? There were so many... Oh. Right.

Slytherins didn't associate with Gryffindors. Purebloods-- respectable Purebloods-- didn't associate with Muggleborns. Pansy was both. Dean was both.

Still holding her hand, Dean stepped up close to her. Pansy had to crane her neck back so that she could still see his face. For whatever reason, she didn't let go of his hand.

"You're bloody tall," she said weakly.

Dean laughed and bent his head so that his breath tickled her ear as he said, "I really like you."

No, no, no. This couldn't happen. She squeezed her eyes shut against the fluttering in her chest. "Thomas..." she said weakly. This needed to stop before...

"It's Dean," he said in a soft voice that was probably meant to keep her from running away. Reassure the beast before stabbing it. "And I also think that you might like me, too, Pansy Parkinson."

Pansy wished that she could deny it, because Dean Thomas would never own a large manor. He had never stood out as an outstanding student before, and the path of a starving artist was centuries away from acceptable. Most importantly, Dean wasn't Draco. No one else ever could be.

But...

She was just so tired of it all. The shock of the promotion, the stress over Draco, the loss of her dream, the denial over this... It was exhausting.

"Dean," she said, giving in to the part of her that just really liked his name. "What exactly are you--"

Thomas covered her mouth with his hand. "Do you always have to over-analyze everything?"

Apparently immune to logic, Pansy parted her lips a little, tempted to take his fingers into her mouth. She wondered if he wanted her to. Oh, this was ridiculous.

"Haven't you ever just given in to something because it felt good?"

That snagged her attention as memories of Draco abruptly flooded her mind. Every weak moment with him had its preceding desire to just give in to something bigger than herself-- to feel everything those weak moments promised.

Pansy was a masochist, plain and simple, which explained why she was putting a hand on Dean's hip and drawing him closer. She let go of his hand and gripped his wrist so that she could remove it from her mouth without actually releasing it from her hold.

"If you're going to talk like a hedonist, then you better be prepared for the consequences," she told him.

He flushed again and dropped his eyes to where their bodies were tentatively touching. "I'm not a hedonist. I just want..."

You.

Pansy suddenly felt extremely giddy. This situation was rapidly spinning out of control, and she didn't know if she wanted it to stop. She could feel the heat of Thomas' eyes and the weight of his body as it lightly pressed against her, and her brain was swiftly turning to mush as a result.

"What are we doing?" she whispered.

His smile was reckless. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

Yes. It most definitely did. "No," she said.

Dean cupped her face. "Good."

"Yeah."

He kissed her.

Pansy made a little noise in the back of her throat and gripped Dean's lapels. The full lips that she had so admired were soft and firm above hers. She pressed and sucked at them with a fervency that made him groan.

There wasn't enough contact, so Pansy released his lapels and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Dean released her face and enfolded her into an embrace. His arms felt so strong, and she was tired enough to allow her body to sag against him. He held her up, and his kisses were gentle and probing, like he was trying to slowly absorb her.

Pansy's natural instinct was to press harder into him until they melded, but she let him guide her into a more leisurely pace after she realized that he was learning her. Every tilt of her head and every sound that she made was being taken in and held somewhere in his memory. She could tell by the way that his hands traced up and down her spine and along her sides. She shivered under his pleasant ministrations. She had been feeling so lost, and there was something to be said for being found. It had never been like this before. Draco never--

Oh. She went frigid in his arms. Oh.

Dean was still kissing her. He didn't realize that they were no longer alone. The faces of everyone Pansy had ever known were suddenly swirling around them, staring accusingly. Her housemates were there. Professor Snape. Other Slytherin alumni she had been introduced to. Her parents were there, with her father in the Death Eater garb that Pansy had once found while she was snooping through his things. Christ! Death... Eater... garb. What was she doing?

With a strangled sound, Pansy pushed him away. She jumped back as if burned. Dean stared at her with hazy, dilated eyes. "Pansy?" he choked out in a husky voice.

"Fuck," she whispered, backing away from him. She wiped at her mouth with a trembling hand.

Dean smiled at her, and Pansy suddenly felt nauseous. "Stop that," she snapped. Stop bloody smiling like this could possibly be a good thing.

The smile wilted off of his face, and he looked confused. "Stop what?"

"That!"

Pansy couldn't afford this right now, not with the constant power struggles being at their height. No matter how it may appear from the outside, she had already suffered a fall from the loss of promotion. She could never look Draco in the eye and challenge his ideas about purity, especially if everything she said was tainted by the taste of Dean in her mouth. Draco wouldn't understand. He'd throw everything back in her face and turn his back on her. She'd die. Without Draco, there was no her. Dean couldn't fill in the gaps. He wouldn't even know where to begin.

Dean took a cautious step towards her. "Pansy? Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "This was a mistake."

"I don't believe that," he said eagerly.

He was delusional. She had just risked his life, and he didn't even know it.

"I have to go," she said, backing further away.

"Please don't," he said, taking a step after her. "Pansy!"

"I'm sorry," she said.

Pansy turned and ran before she could see the disappointed look on his face.

* * *

It had been exactly three hours, twenty-three minutes, and fifty-nine seconds since Dean Thomas had kissed Pansy Parkinson.

It had been exactly two hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-three seconds since she had shakily fallen into a seat in the darkest corner of the library. The place must be growing on her. Either that or she just couldn't bear the thought of looking any of her housemates in the eye yet. Wandering back and forth in front of Snape's office hadn't helped.

She had a book open in front of her, but it was only a cover for her vacant staring. Since sitting down, Pansy had been trying to will herself into a state of post-traumatic shock. She just wanted to feel blank and separated from herself, because no matter what she tried to tell herself, denial wasn't as easy as it seemed.

She tried anyway, though, because it must have been someone else that had kissed Dean Thomas. Yes, because surely Pansy wouldn't have risked social ostracism for a Gryffindor. Nope. Nuh-uh. She wasn't that stupid... Usually.

Pansy groaned and buried her face in her hands. How did everything become so messed up?

"Watch it, Malfoy!"

Pansy's head shot up.

The speaker was a girl who was gathering up her books from the floor and glaring at Draco as he marched straight for Pansy with a determined stride. Her stomach dropped into her shoes. She was trapped in the corner, and it was too late to duck beneath the table. All she could do was sit there and wait for him. It was an awful feeling.

Draco slid into the seat next to her without any greeting. Pansy felt her heart give a guilty lurch, and she bowed her head over her parchment so that he wouldn't be able to see the blush spread across her face. She felt like Dean must have left some physical signs of having been there on her skin. The experience had been too intense and forbidden to not leave a mark of some kind.

When he still hadn't spoken after several seconds, Pansy finally lifted her head and gave him a quizzical look.

Realized that he had her attention, Draco scooted his chair closer to hers. She squirmed uncomfortably as he silently regarded her with a serious expression on his face. Pansy avoided meeting his gaze for as long as she could, but it was like trying to ignore the shrieking banshee in the room.

She gnawed at her lower lip for a moment before giving in. "What is it?"

Draco slammed his hand over her book, making her jump. "Look at me."

Pansy was startled enough to obey the request, and she immediately wished that she hadn't. Draco was positively brimming with contained energy. She couldn't tell whether it was anger, fear, or excitement that was emanating from him, but the power behind the emotion put her on edge for some reason.

He was so close that his eyes blocked out everything else, and she abruptly felt consumed by something unidentified. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words froze in her throat. Pansy wanted to back away, but she felt snagged in by him. She swallowed. What was going on?

Draco gripped her arm that was lying on the table, and she wasn't sure if he was purposely trying to hurt her or if his grasp was just unconsciously rough. "I've been looking everywhere for you," he said in a hushed, accusing tone.

Pansy felt the blush rising again before she could do anything to prevent it. She fruitlessly attempted to pull out of his hold. "I'm right here," she managed nervously. "Let go."

Draco ignored her. His fingers actually tightened their grip, and she felt an embarrassing thrill shoot through her body. It was quickly followed by a wave of self-loathing. Here was the root of the answer to the question that everyone seemed to ask: why Draco Malfoy? No one could ever know about this, because she could only hope that her self-destructing masochism wouldn't spread into the bedroom. She was screwed up enough without adding that to her already twisted psyche.

"Now," she said urgently, trying to twist out of his grip.

"Shut up and get that look off of your face," he suddenly snapped. The energy around him practically crackled.

Too shocked to react otherwise, Pansy shut her mouth. What the hell was going on? Since when did she get treated like vermin? Was Draco angry with her? He was certainly acting like he was. Actually, he was acting like he knew about--

Pansy suddenly froze in guilty terror.

He knew. Somehow, he'd found out. Dean must have told someone. Or Blaise had finally gotten her edge. Or Draco was there for some reason, and he saw for himself. Her avoidance had been for nothing. He knew. She couldn't take it back.

"Draco?" she said anxiously. Oh, please don't hate me. I didn't mean to.

His stare was flat, but she could feel him reigning in the anger. His hold finally loosened on her arm, but the longer he was silent, the more upset she became. He was so blank, and she wanted to cry.

"Draco, I didn't--"

"Pansy, calm down," he interrupted, abruptly the picture of unruffled stoicism. His eyes flicked to the side, and then he released her arm entirely. Sitting back, Draco gave her a cold smile. "You look a fright."

She couldn't calm down, not after being the recipient of that look. "But I..."

"I just need your full attention," he explained. "There's no reason to panic. Okay?"

Pansy didn't know what else to do, so she nodded. Draco seemed satisfied, and he leaned in closer again. She shivered when he brought his hand up to push back a lock of her hair, subsequently brushing his fingers across her cheek.

"I got a letter from my father today," he said conversationally.

"You did?" she said weakly. Was Draco going to tell his father about Dean? It would be the simplest way of obliterating any chance they may ever have salvaged of being together. Had she already done that herself?

Draco made an affirmative noise. "You'll never guess what the letter said."

"From your father?" Pansy's world was spinning, and she was so confused by this conversation. What was he getting at? What did a letter from his father have to do with her and Dean? Unless... Well, unless Draco didn't know about Dean.

Oh. Her relief was so immense and immediate that she began to shake. He wasn't here to disown her. He wanted to talk about his oh-so-precious father. He hadn't even mentioned Dean. Draco didn't know. She had merely jumped to paranoid conclusions as always. Pansy choked down a hysterical laugh. Everything was fine.

"That's right," he said as he cupped the side of her jaw with his palm. To her surprise, he leaned even further into her personal space to trail up the opposite side of her face with the soft brush of his lips. Pansy's eyes slid shut with a sharp gasp of air, and she had to clutch her own knee due to the intensity of her relief. There was no way that Draco would behave like this with her if he knew. No, he would have probably hexed her right in front of the entire library.

His mouth stopped at her ear. ""Il s'est passé enfin," he whispered. It's finally happened.

"What?" she moaned, trying to turn her face into a kiss. She wasn't really paying attention anymore. The unintentional reassurance of Draco's mouth on her skin was sending sparks through her brain.

She made a disappointed noise when he avoided her mouth and kept his lips pressed to her ear. "Nous devons avoir une autre rendezvous." We need to have another meeting.

Pansy was only slowly coming back to herself as she gradually calmed down, but her eyes flew open at that. Meeting? What was he talking about?

"Il faut que tu amène les filles et nous retrouve dans La Forêt Interdite, exactement trois heures après le couvre-feu ce soir." I need you to gather the girls and meet us at the edge of the Forbidden Forest exactly three hours after curfew tonight.

"Why?" she asked, finally comprehending that his proximity was merely a means of achieving some privacy. The realization brought sharp disappointment in to nest with the otherwise sweet relief. She tried to pull back from him, but Draco quickly caught the side of her face to keep her from moving away.

"Ne bouge pas!" he hissed. Don't move! "On nous regarde. Aie l'air comme si je chuchote quelque chose romantique." Someone is watching us. Act like I'm whispering something romantic.

Pansy automatically tensed at the thought of being watched, but she fell into the ploy easily enough despite the bitterness that clawed at her chest. So, he wanted to put on an act. She could do that. At least he wasn't upset with her.

Now very much in control of herself, she conjured up a false smile and muttered from the corner of her mouth, "This is fucking great, Malfoy. Everyone already thinks that we're dating, and now you pull this."

She felt the snort against her cheek. "Pansy, it hardly matters what people think you and I get up to as long as it's far enough from the truth," he said in English.

It hardly matters to you, she thought angrily.

She turned sideways in her chair so that their foreheads rested together, still giving the imitation of intimacy but with the advantage of being able to see his face. "Who's watching us, and why do I care?" she asked.

Draco feigned a smile of his own that would have melted a stone if the stone weren't smart enough to recognize it for a farce. Pansy's traitor heart still gave a twinge. "Je ne sais pas son nom," he said in a honeyed tone. I don't know his name. "No-- Don't look!"

Too late. Pansy was already turning her head to catch a glimpse of their observer. Draco quickly covered the movement by ducking his face into the curve of her neck, as if she had moved in order to accommodate him. Her eyes scanned the room, but the only person that was blatantly staring at them was some Hufflepuff boy-- Oh. It was Owen Something-or-Other from Art Club.

When he realized that he had caught her eye, Owen waved cheerfully before he disappeared behind a bookcase. Pansy flinched at the familiarity, and she was glad that Draco's face was still hidden in her neck.

Speaking of which... Pansy ran her hand through Draco's hair in a soft caress. "Darling?"

"What?"

She dug her fingers into his hair and abruptly yanked his head back. Draco cried out against the unexpected pain, and a nearby student gave them a curious look before tactfully averting her gaze.

"The fuck, Pansy?" he exploded, clutching his scalp.

"Draco, we were putting on a show for some Hufflepuff kid? You've finally gone off the deep end," she told him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Lower your voice," he snapped, glaring at her.

"Draco, there's nobody here except those girls--"

"Pansy, either shut up or switch to French. This is fucking serious, okay? I'm trying to bloody tell you something."

The anger in his voice gave her pause when she would have otherwise been incensed for being spoken to like that. She felt the sting of trepidation. "Why is it serious?" she asked warily. "What's going on?" What have you done?

"Pansy!"

"Fine! En bref, s'il te plaît!" In short, please.

"Je ne peux pas expliquer ici, mais j'ai reçu une lettre de mon père, et elle change tout pour nous, Pansy." I can't explain here, but I got a letter from my father, and it changes everything, Pansy.

Something cold blossomed in her stomach. What could Lucius Malfoy possibly have to say that could change everything? Was it about the Dark Lord? About a potential marriage match for Draco? It didn't bode well. She didn't think that she wanted to know.

Draco had stopped speaking, and he looked like he was waiting for some kind of response.

"Um... What?" she said.

Draco gave her an exasperated look. "Tu ne m'écoute pas, n'est-ce pas?" You aren't listening to me, are you?

Pansy ran a weary hand over her face. "English, Draco," she muttered. She was having a hard enough time concentrating on what he was trying to tell her.

He rolled his eyes and stood up. "It doesn't matter. Just make sure that it gets done."

She gave him a resentful look. "Yes, Master Malfoy. Whatever you want, because you're clearly too lazy to do it yourself."

Draco gave her a humorless smile. "Right." He turned to go, but he paused and said, "Oh, and Pansy?"

"What?" she asked as she bent down to get her bag.

The sharp bang as Draco brought his fists down in front of her made her flinch upright in alarm. Stunned, she met his suddenly blazing eyes.

"The next time that you get the urge to stick your tongue down some dirty Mudblood's throat, you sure as hell better be smart enough not to do it in plain sight," he said in a furious whisper.

He gave her a disgusted sneer and then left her in a swirl of dark robes and righteous indignation.

The silence of the library engulfed her, and then there was only the sound of her still-beating heart. The axis of the universe had tilted that day, but the tenacious little organ kept chugging away.

She had the distinct feeling that she was being stared at again, but Pansy could only stare at her own ghost-white reflection in the tabletop. She had to wonder again at when everything in her life had gone so terribly wrong.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Slytherins did not enjoy spending their time lurking around in dark corners and shadows.

Of course, that didn't mean that they didn't lurk around in dark corners and shadows. They just didn't necessarily enjoy it. As much fun as clandestine meetings could be, Pansy preferred the ones that didn't occur in the Forbidden Forest... at night.

She shivered against the cold air and leaned back into the arm of a crooked tree. If she had to be in the Forbidden Forest after dark--or at all-- then she wasn't going to leave her back unguarded. Who knew whom or what was lurking around in the darkness that wasn't-- or was-- a fellow Slytherin that was just waiting for an opportunity to attack her from behind?

"Why did he want us to meet him out here?" Alyssa asked. She was eyeing the surrounding trees nervously.

"For the privacy, obviously," Blaise said, looking just as edgy as they all felt. They were barely in the forest, and the slightest noise would probably scurry them. "Makes sense. There aren't going to be any spies or eavesdroppers in here at this time of night."

You'd be surprised, Pansy thought wryly. She suddenly wished that she'd brought a Sneak-O-Scope out with her. Maybe a quick look-around with a Lumos spell should be in order...

"Yeah, but where is he?" Raquel voiced.

That was a good question. They were still in sight of the castle, but there was no hint of a blonde head anywhere.

"He didn't tell you anything about why we're out here?" Alyssa asked Pansy, coming up to lean beside her on the tree.

She shook her head in the negative and avoided Alyssa's eyes. Pansy had delivered Draco's message to her roommates, but other than that, she had kept her distance from the lot of them. She was in no form of mind to play at company, and she had to wonder which one of them had been the one to rat her out to Draco. Her money was on Blaise, but there was still no way to be sure.

"Are you okay?" Alyssa pressed, sounding more curious than concerned. "You've been acting funny all day."

Pansy gave her a resentful look and moved away to rub her arms and pace restlessly, being sure to keep an eye on the surrounding darkness. "I just hate being out here."

Blaise snorted her agreement. "I say that we give him five more minutes before we go back in. Then, we'll snub him tomorrow in retaliation for this."

"You think that he's playing a joke on us?" Raquel said, looking alarmed. Pansy had to worry if that really wasn't the case. Maybe this whole thing was part of an elaborate punishment that he had concocted to get back at her for Dean. She wouldn't put it past him after seeing the look on his face in the library.

"What would he have to gain from that?" Millicent sensibly pointed out. "If we got caught out here, then we'd lose house points for Slytherin."

Pansy felt an inexplicable rush of anger. She reigned in her anxious energy and released it at Millicent with a slash of her tongue. "So, Malfoy pats your shoulder a few times and now you're sticking up for him?"

Millicent looked appalled, but she shot back, "He ignores you for five minutes and you turn on him?"

That got a few delighted smiles and aborted laughs.

Pansy's skin prickled unpleasantly, and she gave them all a death glare. "Watch what you say, Bulstrode!" she snarled. The girl had a lot of nerve, and this was not the time to try her patience. Pansy was the closest thing to an ally that she had in their house in the sense that she didn't necessarily wish her outright harm... except for this particular moment.

Millicent seemed to realize this, because she backed down with a grimace and started pacing herself.

Alyssa laughed and edged back towards Pansy. "She's getting rather bold, isn't she?" she murmured.

"Imagine that," Raquel said with a bitter look at Pansy. "Someone challenging Queen Parkinson."

Pansy ignored her and watched Millicent for a moment more with burning eyes before she accepted that hexing wasn't going to be necessary. Sneering, she returned to her own pacing. She didn't spare a thought for Raquel. She was not in the mood. The girl had learned well enough what happened when someone got too "bold" with her. She didn't have to prove it again.

"Okay, if even Parkinson isn't sticking up for Malfoy, then I think it's time to go back to our warm beds," Blaise said grumpily.

"That won't be necessary," said a voice from behind them.

There was a collective scream, and they all jumped away from the figure emerging from the woods.

Alyssa, who had seen the approach, deftly caught Pansy's wrist before she could make a break for it. "It's my fool of a brother," she said hastily. "It's Theodore!" she yelled over her shoulder to Blaise and Raquel, who were already halfway across the lawns. They stopped at Alyssa's shout and peered dubiously back at them.

Theodore strode forward to the edge of the shadows, where they met the moonlit grass, and hissed as loudly as he could without actually shouting, "Get your arses back in here!" He turned to his sister and gave Alyssa a small shove. "You! What do you think you're doing, yelling at the top of your lungs? Why don't we just invite the entire castle out for this?"

"Don't touch her," Pansy snapped. She pulled out of Alyssa's hold and glared at him. "What the hell were you doing in there?"

"The fuck, Nott?" Blaise said angrily as she and Raquel rejoined them. "Was that supposed to be funny?"

"Not as funny as watching your skinny arse running away," he said dryly. "Nice display of cowardice, Zabini."

"You're confusing my house with the one whose occupants would be stupid enough to stand still--" She shot a contemptuous glance at Millicent, who had frozen out of fear, "--to be eaten by a werewolf." She pointed her wand threateningly at him, and his eyes widened. "But call me a coward again, Nott."

Pansy rolled her eyes and pulled Blaise's arm down. "You didn't answer my question, Nott. What were you doing in there?"

"The real question," he said with a wary glance at Blaise, "is why the lot of you are standing out here when you were supposed to meet us in the Forbidden Forest?"

"We are in the Forbidden Forest," Alyssa said defensively.

Theodore sneered and crossed the two feet until he was standing on the lawn and technically outside of the Forbidden Forest. "Look, now I'm two steps away from being as pathetic as you all are."

"Choke on it, Nott," Raquel spat. Theodore made a rude gesture at her.

"Where's Malfoy?" Blaise demanded, pulling his attention back to her.

"He's actually in the Forbidden Forest, which is where we all are supposed to be about now."

"You left him alone in there?" Pansy burst out. She had a terrifying mental image of Draco, alone and frightened, being stalked by some hideous beast.

"No, Crabbe and Goyle are in there with him," he said, sounding unimpressed, "but I'm glad to see how concerned you are with my welfare, Parkinson."

"Please," Raquel said with a roll of her eyes. "When your inheritance grows large enough to actually sprout legs and run away by itself to the Caribbean, then we'll worry about you."

"You're too pasty for the Caribbean," Theodore said coolly. "Besides, some people can't afford to be as choosey as they once hoped." He was speaking to Raquel, but the look he gave Pansy made her stiffen.

Dream on, Nott, she thought angrily, because I'd marry an Italian cousin long before I'd ever willingly lay a finger on you. Just call me Signora Pansy Paravita. I'll send you a pizza.

"Are you all just going to stand there, or are you coming?" Theodore asked impatiently.

"I am not going in there," Alyssa said with a fearful glance at the darkness between the trees. There was a tacit agreement from her roommates in their lack of locomotion.

"Then you can stay here to get picked off," Theodore said in a demonstration of brotherly concern. Without further ado, he turned and disappeared between the trees.

The girls exchanged hesitant glances.

"Who's for leaving them in there to die?" Blaise prompted hopefully.

There were cautious smiles as they pretended that they weren't considering it.

"I mean, if it was just Theodore," Alyssa said, mirroring that sibling protectiveness they all knew she was capable of.

"Yeah, but Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't stand a chance," Pansy said reluctantly.

"And we'd never find out what Malfoy wanted," Raquel reminded them.

No one moved.

"Were those our only motivations?" Millicent asked disappointedly.

"Well, there's always the chance that someone or something witnessed us coming out here," Pansy offered. "If that were the case, and if the boys were never seen again, then there's a chance that we'd be implicated in their murder trials. Especially if our only explanation for coming out here is that Draco is a paranoid, secretive twit."

"They'd never convict us," Blaise countered.

"Well, do you really want to trust the rest of your life to a freshly graduated law wizard?" Pansy asked skeptically. "Because I'm going to be using all of the best defense advocates for my legal team, and I'm not sharing any of them with you lot."

"Thanks a lot, Parkinson," Blaise said, glowering at her.

"Yeah, we'll remember that," Raquel said.

"I'm trembling," she said flatly.

"Are we going in or not?" Millicent asked timidly, bringing them back to the issue at hand.

They individually weighed their options until Pansy finally sighed in resignation. She muttered a fresh Lumos spell and said grudgingly, "We'd better hurry before we lose him."

"We're all going to die," Alyssa said mournfully.

"This is so against our natures," Raquel moaned.

Pansy couldn't deny either statement. With their wands raised, the girls huddled together and bravely-- or not so bravely-- rushed into the dark unknown in an effort to catch up with Theodore.

They skidded trees and tripped over roots and each other-- "Ouch! Get off me!" Pansy tried to steer them in the direction that she thought Theodore had gone in, but it soon became apparent that they had no idea which way that was. The darkness was so thick that even their combined spells barely illuminated more than a few feet away from them.

"What the hell is the point of a Lumos spell if we can't see anything?" Blaise said in exasperation.

A sudden screeching noise to their left made them all freeze in alarm. Pansy gripped her wand until her fingers turned white. She started trembling as the first vestiges of an oncoming panic attack became apparent. This was a mistake. They shouldn't be out here.

"We have to go back," Alyssa whispered urgently. "If we don't, then we're going to die!"

"But which way is back?" Millicent asked, looking around frantically.

"There was a weird tree!" Raquel cried, spinning around. "Fuck, where is it?"

"They're all weird trees, you idiot!" Blaise yelled.

Pansy covered her ears and struggled to concentrate. They weren't helping.

"Shut up, shut up!" Raquel hissed. "It'll hear you!"

"You just yelled!"

Alyssa was starting to sound hysterical. "We're gonna die. We're gonna die. We're--"

"Somebody slap her," Pansy growled. "We just have to find--"

Their wands went out.

They began screaming.

Just as abruptly, there was light. Pansy flinched against the harsh brightness. She was blinking away the first spots of adjustment that clouded her vision when she heard the laughter.

Laughter.

Pansy sprung around to find the boys of her year huddled around a fire that had most definitely not been there before. They were laughing so hard that they were bent over and grasping each other's shoulders for support. Five horrified faces beheld them.

"You should see the looks on your faces," Theodore wheezed.

Blaise's face turned red with fury. "You bastards!" she shrieked. "You utter bastards!"

"I can't believe you did that," Alyssa said shakily.

Pansy put her hands on her knees and struggled to breathe normally. Goyle patted her shoulder sympathetically.

"We're gonna die. We're gonna die," Draco mocked. "Bloody priceless."

"It's not funny!" Alyssa yelled.

"I beg to differ," Theodore said, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Where did this come from?" Pansy asked Goyle of the fire.

He opened his mouth to answer, but Theodore cut him off. "It was here the entire time. There are disillusionment charms up, and we warded the area to alert us to when someone was approaching and to extinguish your luminating spells."

"You warded against us?" Pansy said indignantly. Theodore mimed a kiss at her.

"It was for anyone that might be coming," Goyle explained sheepishly.

"Right," she said, glaring at Theodore.

"That's a lot of effort for a house meeting," Blaise said, seeming to lose some of her anger in favor of curiosity.

"Don't think there won't be retribution for this," Raquel snarled.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Will you all shut up? We have something more important to discuss here than your pathetic attempts at revenge."

"This better be bloody important," Raquel said, still looking murderous.

"It is," Draco said, abruptly serious. "So important, in fact, that I couldn't tell you about it anywhere less private than this."

Pansy felt apprehensive watching him. She really had no idea what this could be about, but a part of her hoped that his news was going to prove to be something trivial.

"I'm shivering with anticipation, Malfoy," Blaise said. "Get on with it."

"I received a letter from my father this morning--"

"Fascinating."

"Do we have to gag you?" Theodore snapped.

"Try it, Nott. I dare you."

"I'm going to kill you both if you don't shut up!" Draco cried angrily.

"We're listening. Go ahead," Crabbe said encouragingly.

"Thank you," he said. "So, this letter was special, because beneath the exterior was a code."

"You and your father have a code?" Alyssa asked confusedly.

"Yes," he snapped, "and if you were smart, then you'd have one, too. In fact, you're going to get one, because the stakes have just gone up and you could risk everything with a negligent comment in a stupid letter."

"You're being especially cryptic tonight, Malfoy," Raquel said, looking worried.

Pansy wanted to ask him to hurry up and spit it out, but she was afraid to bring his attention onto her in light of their last conversation. She shifted from one foot to another and kept her head down, despite the rising fear within her that made her want to lash out. Millicent stood beside her, shivering and looking miserable.

"What did the code say?" Raquel asked curiously.

Draco and Theodore shared a slow, disturbing smile that made Pansy stare in morbid fascination. This couldn't be good.

"This is it, finally," Draco said. "What we've all been waiting for."

"We're finally being recognized for our potential," Theodore said eagerly.

"Our patience has finally paid off."

"Patience and potential for what?" Crabbe asked confusedly.

Draco drew himself up proudly. "For this, Crabbe. There's a mission for us, and this is our chance to prove our worth to the cause."

"A mission?" Blaise said incredulously. "What does that mean?"

"It means that we have a task to do, Zabini," Theodore said patronizingly. She glared at him and made a rude gesture in his direction.

"Who says that we have a task to do?" Raquel said, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

Theodore and Draco's smiles became positively feral.

"The Dark Lord himself."

His words were met with a stunned silence. Pansy felt her blood freeze.

"You're... joking, right?" Blaise said uncertainly. She looked at Pansy. "He's joking, isn't he?"

"Why would I joke about this?" he said, frowning. "Why would my father joke about this? It's not a game, Zabini. This is the future of the wizarding world we're talking about here!"

"And the parts we're going to play in it," Theodore added.

Pansy couldn't believe that this was actually happening. The situation was too surreal to be real. "But we're still in school," she found herself saying. "We have nothing to offer yet."

Draco didn't look at her, but he addressed the entire group as if someone else had spoken. "The Dark Lord is aware of the limitations of our service at this point, but he's still found a way for us to do our parts."

"According to your father?" Blaise said skeptically.

He gave her a cold look. "Of course. Who's closer to the Dark Lord than my father? Did you expect him to just stop by to deliver the message in person? Maybe have some tea with Dumbledore while he's here?"

"No, but..."

"Anyway," he said, cutting her off. "There weren't any specifics about the task in this letter, but I expect that they'll come later. However--"

"No specifics?" Raquel interrupted. "You mean that we don't even know what we're doing?"

"Do our parents know about this?" Alyssa asked nervously.

"Of course they do, you idiot," Theodore said. "Well, those parents of ours that qualify for such intimate information." Pansy didn't miss the dig, and she stiffened predictably in anger.

"Can I speak here?" Draco said irritably. "Yes? Okay. We don't know what the task is going to be yet, but my father did indicate a list of things that we're going to need to do it."

"So, it's going to be a spell of some sort?" Millicent asked, speaking up for the first time since they had discovered the bonfire.

"That's right," Draco said, smirking. "A spell that we can do right from here. As far as that goes..." He and Theodore exchanged pregnant glances again. "We've discussed it, and we decided--"

"Who's this we?" Blaise interrupted again.

"Theodore and I," Draco said smoothly. Nott straightened his back and gave them all a superior smirk.

"When did you decide this?" Goyle asked, sounding hurt.

"While you and Crabbe were in the kitchens," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Now, we're going to need some things from Snape's stash: henbane, aloe wood, hemlock, saffron, opium, and mandrake, to be exact. Look, there's no getting around it. Someone is going to have to take care of that."

"Someone being...?" Alyssa prompted.

"Would you shut it?" Theodore snapped. "We're trying to explain this to you people."

His sister scowled at him, but he ignored her and continued on in what was clearly a rehearsed manner. "Draco and I have run through all of the different angles and possibilities, and there's really only one person we need to play thief for us."

Nott paused for theatrical effect, clearly enjoying himself. Pansy wanted to hit him, and she could tell from the similar expressions around her that she wasn't the only one. Even Draco rolled his eyes.

"Who's going to get it?" Millicent finally asked. She looked frightened.

Pansy's eyes widened, because she was suddenly very much aware of whom that lucky choice was. She knew immediately from the evil light that sparked behind Theodore's irises.

His smile was cold. "You are, Bulstrode," he said softly. "You are going to get what we need."

There was a tense silence.

If it was possible to drain a person of their blood in mere seconds, then Theodore had just done it. Millicent was as pale as the moonlight shining on her face.

"I... I..." she stuttered helplessly, shaking her head in denial.

"You-You will be given ample opportunity," Theodore said, smiling brightly. He wasn't even trying to conceal his glee at Millicent's expense. "We'll see to that."

"Everything will be planned out in advance, of course," Draco said, watching her closely with a shielded expression. "You won't have to worry about a thing."

Millicent shook her head again. She was starting to back away, and Pansy wondered if she would actually run. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco covertly send a discreet signal, and suddenly Crabbe and Goyle were blocking Millicent's escape. She glanced at them over her shoulder in alarm when her back collided with Goyle's stomach. Millicent was starting to look caged in, and it reflected in the fear in her eyes.

Pansy's heart was pounding in her chest. Her eyes bounced back and forth between Draco and Millicent. They were on the brink of something huge that they couldn't ever come back from. Millicent was a heartbeat away from having a nervous breakdown, and she didn't know what they would be forced to do if that happened.

Her fingers were tightening on her wand when Draco took a step forward. He gracefully crossed the circle and planted his hands firmly on Millicent's shoulders.

He brought his face in close to hers and said in a steady, comforting voice, "It's okay to be afraid, Millicent. We all understand. This is a big deal. It's a big responsibility, but we wouldn't ask you to do this unless we believed that you were capable. I believe that you can do this. I have faith in you."

"I can't," she said desperately.

Draco continued as if he hadn't heard her. "Do you know why I have faith in you, Millicent?"

"No, but--"

"I have faith in you, because you're a Slytherin. You're family. We're a family, Millicent. All of us. We take care of each other. If we don't, then who else will? It's us against the world. Us, Millicent. We need you. Do you have any idea how important you are?"

Millicent seemed caught in his gaze, bringing to mind the inevitable comparison to a fly in a web. She twitched a little, like she was fighting him for control of her own motor skills, but she remained immobile in his hold.

Draco's face was aglow with the light of a zealot. "Do you realize what an amazing opportunity this is?"

"Opportunity?" Millicent repeated vacantly. She looked awestruck by the glow.

"Oh, yes," Draco said in a breathless whisper. Millicent's eyes flickered as he softly brushed the hair away from her face. "This is an opportunity for you to do something for your family, your friends, your people, Millicent."

"My people...?"

"Yes. Think of how proud your parents are going to be of you, Millicent. Your father? You want to make him proud, don't you?"

Millicent visibly gulped. "I..."

"He's given so much of himself to the cause, hasn't he, Millicent? Time, money, the proper use of his leg... I'd bet my life, though, that he'd do it again in a heartbeat. He believes in it. He's devoted his entire life to it. He's counting on you. We all are. We can count on you, can't we, Millicent?"

Pansy vaguely realized that she was shaking, and it wasn't from the cold. She hugged her chest tightly to imply the opposite, but she needn't have bothered. Millicent had Draco's full attention focused in on her, not sparing even a flicker of a glance for anyone else. Pansy knew from personal experience how quaking that kind of attention from him could be.

Nonetheless, Pansy couldn't bring herself to feel jealous of the exclusion that they were radiating towards everyone else. She also knew from personal experience that the seemingly intimate moment they were witnessing was no more than cold, calculated coercion and manipulation occurring before their very eyes. Draco had employed similar tactics the summer that he had convinced her to jump from a terrace at Malfoy Manor into a shallow wading pool they had concocted themselves with the help of a nervous house elf. She broke both of her arms, and Draco walked away without much more than a bruise or two.

"We're all behind you, Millicent," he continued. "Every step of the way." He gave her a confidant smile, showing off perfect teeth that Pansy would have bet anything were professionally worked on over the summer-- the vain git. "Really, it should only take a few moments."

A few moments that would change everything. Pansy sucked in a shaky breath.

Draco gently brushed his thumb over Millicent's cheek. "You can spare us that, can't you? Your family?"

The other members of the circle were all holding their breaths, captivated by the spell that Draco was weaving.

The answer they were all waiting for came in a small, broken whisper.

"Yes."

Pansy watched as Millicent finally seemed to come to her bearings. She shook her head as if ridding it of that glassy fog that Draco had no doubt planted there, and she looked like she may very well throw up at any moment.

Yes, she had said.

Yes, they could count on her? Yes, she wanted to please her father? Yes, she wanted to please Draco?

It didn't matter.

Not with a yes.

Blaise suddenly cleared her throat loudly, breaking the spell. "Well, who knew that it would come down to Bulstrode?" she said in a falsely pleasant voice.

She didn't look pleased at all. In fact, none of them did. Her housemates all seemed confused and reluctant about the choice of candidate.

Blaise wasn't finished. She said with a pointed look in Pansy's direction, "I suppose she'll have to do, since certain other options were eliminated through nepotism."

Ah, yes. What they were all thinking: it should have been Pansy.

Pansy knew that she was the logical choice. She had the closest connection to Snape, and it would have been relatively simple for her to snatch the necessary components for their "project," since she was one of the only two Slytherins in their year still taking Potions.

Frankly, if one had to choose a single person from their house to assign such an important task to, who could be expected to come out as more competent than her? She was more likely than anyone else other than Draco to get the job done without implication. It didn't even make sense to choose anyone else. Unless...

Nepotism? Was there some reason why Draco didn't want her to do this? Was he purposely trying to keep her out of it? Why?

Draco didn't bother to deny it. He was still staring at Millicent, maybe making sure that she wasn't still going to run. Blaise was glaring accusingly at her, and Pansy had to turn away from them all so that she could focus on breathing through the choking sensation that she was experiencing.

It should have been Pansy, and they all knew it.

Too bad, Millicent.

* * *