Forgivable Expectations

Forgivable Expectations

Chapter 6: Fear Shall Force

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

To achieve their ends.

--The Sorting Hat in Sorcerer's Stone.

"And fear shall force what friendship cannot win..."

-- Lorenzo, Thomas Kyd's The Spanish Tragedy.

There was only so much a person could take.

That was what Pansy told herself as she descended upon the library. She had most definitely had enough of being ignored and shunned by her supposed best friend. Weeks later, she still experienced a pleasant thrill whenever she thought about Blaise being forced to come crawling back to her like a lowly urchin. However, she could at least respect her a tad more now that she was in a similar position. The difference was that Pansy had her own way of dealing with embarrassing situations, and she would be damned if she would ever follow Blaise's example in anything she did. She liked to give herself a bit more credit than that.

Pansy swept through the bookcases, searching purposely for her wayward target. She had to double-back when a glimpse of blonde hair finally caught the corner of her eye. His was standing at the opposite end of the row with his back to her. She started forward, but another voice stopped her.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

Patil? Pansy paused, considering, and then drew back. She switched and moved as stealthily as she could down the next aisle. Peaking through the books, she confirmed that the voice did indeed belong to Patil. She wasn't wearing a defining house scarf, but the clusters of books around her as well as her actual presence in the library suggested that it was Padma.

"Your help," Draco said.

Padma looked dubious, as she rightly should. "I don't think there's anything I can do for you, Malfoy. Prefects can't cancel out detentions that other prefects deal out. You know that."

Pansy's attention perked up. Draco had gotten a detention? For what?

"I'm perfectly aware of what a prefect can and can't do," he said coolly. "That's not what I was referring to."

Pansy braced herself for a bad sexual pun. Padma was smart enough not to wait for one. "Look, I'm meeting someone--"

"For tutoring?" he suggested with a sly smile.

"Yes, I--" Comprehension flooded her face. "You scheduled this appointment with me?"

Quick minds my arse, Pansy thought wryly.

Draco's smile widened, and Padma hurriedly began packing up her things. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I don't want any part."

"Isn't there a Ravenclaw vow or something about helping the academically challenged?"

"It doesn't apply to you."

"You know," he said amusedly, "I'm detecting some hostility from you, Ms. Patil."

Miss Patil. Miss Parkinson. Pansy cringed. She was suddenly very sure that she didn't want to hear anymore. She momentarily considered abandoning her undertaking and retreating back to her common room. Eavesdropping on Draco picking up on girls wasn't something she wanted to be doing, and there were limits to her emotional mutilation. Granted, there weren't many when it came to Draco Malfoy, but this was definitely pressing the issue.

"You're very perceptive," Padma said flatly.

"I beg to differ," Pansy said, stepping out from behind the bookcase. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the bookcase, smirking at Draco. "A perceptive person would know to stop barking up the wrong tree after the cat had already smacked him in the face."

They both looked surprised to see her, but Padma seemed more relieved than anything else. Draco frowned.

"Hey, Pansy," she said, hefting her bag onto her shoulder. She gave Draco a disgruntled look. "I thought that you'd lost something."

Pansy only spared her a disdainful glance before riveting her stare to Draco. This was the last time that Patil was going to get away with referring to her in the familiar like they were friends or something. That was long over, and the girl better hope that Blaise never had anything more than suspicion that there ever was a that to begin with.

Draco held her stare until Padma had disappeared from sight. Then, he dropped into her chair and said, "Happy?" His expression was blank, but his eyes revealed a simmering anger.

She said nothing.

"Did you get what you came for," he said coldly, "or is there something else?"

"Actually," she said, stepping forward, "there is."

Before Draco had time to register what was happening, Pansy had shoved herself into his lap. She gripped his face and placed a brutal kiss on his mouth. He made a strangled, surprised noise, but she only pressed harder. Her tongue forced its way into his mouth, and Draco's body gave a collective twitch. His hands gripped and scratched at his armrests, clearly unsure of where to go.

She dug her fingers into his hair to keep him from moving his face away. Pansy had to keep him off-balance before he could come to his senses and begin to wonder why his formerly pseudo-platonic best friend was in his lap like this. It wasn't as if it were an undesirable chore, as if she didn't spend every waking hour thinking about this.

Her hands slid down from his face to his chest and back up again to curl strands of white blonde around her fingers. Warm sensations shivered to life within Pansy's body, and she had to resist the compelling urge to rock against him until he screamed all of the beautiful things that she wanted to hear. She didn't have to actually do it to know that the act would feel far too good for it to be allowed. This was more like business. However, it didn't all feel like business, because, against all laws of intelligence and decency, she loved him. Why couldn't he see that?

She could feel it the second Draco finally surrendered in both body and mind, giving up on his confusion and just going with it. He let out a moan that reverberated throughout both their bodies, and Pansy shivered against him. His hands finally moved to her back, the fabric clenching between his fingers. For a moment-- just this moment-- it was easy to forget the reason for all of this. That could only last for so long.

Just as Draco was beginning to take control of the kiss, Pansy abruptly yanked her face away. He made a bereft noise and tried to follow her movement, but Pansy put a restraining hand on his chest and craned her face away. His eyes fluttered open, and she was met with a gaze swimming with mystification and desire. The sight made her head swim, and she rested her flushed cheek against his.

"Pans?" Draco queried, the hot pants of his breaths hitting her neck.

She slowly removed her fingers from his hair and turned her face so that her lips brushed the shell of his ear. When she spoke, her voice was low and throaty.

"Tu peux goûter la boue?"

Can you taste the mud?

It took a moment for her words to sink in, but when they did, Pansy knew it because she was suddenly flying through the air. She barely had time to register the sense of weightlessness before her bum collided painfully with the stone floor. She winced at the impact and just managed to avoid biting her tongue clean off.

It hurt, but she felt like laughing. She could feel the corners of her lips curling upward. She was usually more than content playing the passive role to Draco's aggressive stance, but every once in a while, he needed to be reminded that she chose to be passive for him. Though, she had a sneaking suspicion that he liked it when someone else had control. She could only imagine the kind of pressure he was constantly under from everyone around him, Dark Lord or not. It must be extremely tempting to just let go for once. A release outlet could only be good for him...

... as long as it was with Pansy.

If anything, this encounter proved her private theory. So, in essence, teaching him a lesson was beneficial for both of them. Draco learned something about himself, and Pansy got him off her back. Well... Her smile widened. Figuratively. Maybe she should have waited to see how far she could go before Draco finally had to stop her. Wouldn't that be something?

Pansy took a moment to listen to the rapid thumping of her own heart and to bring her face-splitting grin down to a mere smirk. Then, she slowly raised her eyes to Draco.

He looked adorably ruffled in the way that a viper would if a viper could ever be adorable. His usually immaculate hair was tousled and sticking up in random places from being finger-combed. Fury had added an additional flush to his face, and his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. Draco's eyes were hard as marble, and his kiss-mussed lips twisted into a sneer.

She glared at him and he snorted. Tossing his head, Draco swung his legs up onto the table and reclined in his chair. He picked up one of the books that Padma had left behind and proceeded to ignore her.

Oh, right.

Pansy had to roll her eyes. "No, I suppose you can't," she continued as if she hadn't just been hurled to the floor, "because Zabini's a liar."

Draco immediately gave up his pretense. His eyes flicked up from the book and narrowed at her. "Is she?"

"Can't be much of a surprise," she snapped, rising up to her feet. She brushed off her clothes and straightened herself out with a deliberate meticulousness just to show that he hadn't ruffled her. Inside, she was momentarily boiling at the realization that he had thrown her, but she pressed the anger down deep. There were more important and immediate things right now than indignation.

Pansy folded her arms across her chest and boldly lifted her chin. "However, the fact that you actually believed her calls your sanity into question."

Draco's smile was frosty, and she felt chills go up her arms. "Why do you assume that it was Zabini? I thought that you finally had her wrapped around your finger since that whole woman-scored tizzy you threw?"

He would bring that up, and he would make her feel like dirt. "If it wasn't Blaise, then who was it?" she demanded through gritted teeth. "You don't think I ought to know who's spreading slander against me?"

He cocked his head at her, the false smile still in place. "I'm sorry, but I have to protect my sources. As head of this pseudo-family, it's my responsibility to preserve the trust they place in me."

She made an incredulous noise. "Oh, that's lovely, Draco. So, you're just going to let the wolves have at me? Alors, nous sommes comme ça maintenant?" So, we're like that now?

All traces of even false humor melted from his face, and she could see a flash of something fierce flare across his features. Pansy experienced the strange sensation of wanting to back away from him. His voice was restrained from becoming an actual yell, but he may as well have screamed for all the venom he spat at her. "The wolves don't have to work very hard when you--" He abruptly caught himself before he could actually say what she had done aloud, and the effort clearly cost him, judging by the jumping vein in his forehead. The kinetic energy buzzing between his ears must have been too much, because Draco brought his fist down hard against the table, making Pansy jump in surprise.

He's going to hurt himself if he keeps doing that, she thought dazedly.

Pansy couldn't help staring, feeling fascinated. It had been awhile since she'd seen him struggle for control like this. These days, unless your name was Potter, you didn't garner this much of a reaction from him. She didn't know what to do with this, so she just watched him warily. Should she push him or soothe him?

Unsurprisingly, Draco chose for her. He glanced around in search of potential eavesdroppers before he spoke again in a harsh whisper. "When you go around snogging pieces of filth in plain view, thereby debasing yourself and your house!"

Me, he didn't add, but she heard it just the same.

"Oh, I agree," she said flatly, "but I hope you realize that you're the only piece of filth that I've snogged in the past week."

Draco slammed his book shut and stood. "Cute," he snapped. "Not your wit, of course, but the fact that you're lying directly to my face without so much as blinking."

He was right, of course. "I'm not the liar here," she said bitterly, thinking of that disastrous party. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw her best friends making a fool of her in front of everyone that mattered. She still got a sick feeling in her stomach whenever she thought about it. Like now.

She witnessed something on his face that could have been a grimace, but it was gone before she could identify it. Just as quickly, he was suddenly invading her personal space and blocking out the dim light cast by the dulling lamp that hung behind him. Alarmed, Pansy craned her neck backwards to avoid getting a face full of his shirt.

Draco put a finger in her face, and her eyes widened. "I have never broken a promise to you. Ever."

He dared to... Enraged, she smacked his hand away and shoved him backwards. He stumbled a few steps, but that was all. He was obviously stronger and steadier than she was, and it made her angrier that she couldn't cause him any physical harm without the aid of a present wand or sword.

"Don't you ever put your finger in my face again, Draco Malfoy!" she raged. She wasn't one of his house elves or anything he was allowed to consider subordinate to himself.

His eyes flicked over her dispassionately, as if her indignation were merely tedious to him, but he backed off and returned to his chair. "Je te dirais encore de ne faire des choses spécifiques, mais vraiment ça ne devrait pas être nécessaire." I'd tell you not to do certain things again, but then I really shouldn't have to say it.

Pansy gave him a sneer of her own. "Oh, I'll start listening to you when you start making sense."

"Tu commenceras à m'écouter immédiatement, si tu sais ce que c'est bien pour toi." You'll start listening to me now if you know what's good for you.

Pansy couldn't have heard what she thought she just heard, because that would mean... Her eyes widened in astonishment. "Tu me menaces? Moi?" Are you threatening me? Me?

"Warning you," he corrected.

Her world was shrinking around her, and she could feel the pressure on her chest. She choked on a strained laugh. "I don't believe this! Tu me préviens? De quoi? Le fait que tu es comme les autres?" You're warning me? Of what? The fact that you're like the others?

Draco's forehead wrinkled. "What?"

She shook her head in amazement. "Oh, fuck you, Malfoy. This is ridiculous, and you know it. I've played by all the rules-- your stupid rules-- and no one has ever had any room to question anything I've done. I didn't bring an outsider into our common room like some feather-brained twit. I don't go around shagging everything that moves, regardless of pedigree or common decency. You want to talk about debasing yourself? How about we talk about you?"

He gave her a warning look. "Don't."

She wasn't going to let him detract her this time. Perhaps it would have been wise to stop this, but she was too angry to lend thought to reason. "I doubt very much that you research the bloodlines of every tart that you soil yourself with. Actually, now that it's come up, I can tell you for a fact that Mandy Brocklehurst's mother is a Muggle. Yeah, that's right. A common, dirty Muggle." She gave him an unkind smile. "How'd that taste in your mouth?"

Draco didn't look amused in the slightest. "Been waiting long to use that info?" he drawled. She gave him a fierce glare. "Pretty pathetic, Parkinson."

"As pathetic as a colossal hypocrite, you mean?"

Draco didn't like to be called a hypocrite. He didn't like to be called on any of his bullshit, and Pansy knew it well. However, she still wasn't quite prepared when his words were sharp enough to cut her.

"I will not be told what to do, Pansy. Not by you. Not by anyone."

She felt her throat constricting, and there was a sudden pain in her chest. Oh, right. The Dark Lord notwithstanding, Draco wouldn't listen to anyone except for his ex-con father and the only other man to ever attempt a paternal role: meaning Snape. Didn't she know it.

Pansy could feel herself getting hysterical, but gaining control of herself right then felt like trying to hold a lid on a bottle that was about to explode. "So, it's okay for you," she said, "but you suspect one little infraction of me, and I'm suddenly persona non grata? Jumping on the first sign of weakness? Hey, doesn't that sound familiar? Oh, right. It does, because it sounds just like Blaise!"

"Don't compare me to Zabini!" he cried angrily.

"Why not?" she challenged. "What difference does it make when the end result is the same? I'm still getting stabbed in the back!"

"Miss Parkinson!"

Pansy nearly jumped out of her skin as Madame Pince descended upon them from between the bookcases. She shouldn't have been so surprised when they had both apparently forgotten to keep their voices down, but she had also managed to forget that there was anyone else in the world that wasn't directly affected by this bitter melodrama.

The librarian gave them both furious looks. "And Mr. Malfoy! This is a library, and not a place where you can air your dirty laundry with a bullhorn!"

Draco gave her a dirty look. He retrieved the book from the table and shoved it into her arms. "Since you apparently have nothing better to do," he said.

Madame Pince looked properly scandalized, but Draco grabbed Pansy's arm and dragged her away before the poor librarian could get her bearings and really let him have it.

He'll never be allowed to borrow from the reserves now, she thought.

Leaving the library, he led her down the hallway and then shoved her into a window alcove. From this stance, they were at least partially concealed from the view of anyone leaving the library. Feeling sullen, Pansy re-crossed her arms and averted her gaze to the view from the window. She didn't particularly care to listen to him when he had just made it perfectly clear that he held absolutely no intention of ever listening to her. What was supposed to do? Prepare for a life of quiet submission? Plaster on a fake smile and pretend that she didn't care? Could Draco actually expect that?

"This is a lot of bother over a stupid rumor," she muttered.

"Stop it."

"You're behaving like an idiot. But then, that was probably Blaise's plan. You know that she's been wanting to get back at you ever since-- mmrf!" Her stream of words was cut short by Draco's hand coming down over her mouth. She made an indignant noise, but the look on his face gave her pause.

He leaned close and whispered, "I saw you."

Pansy stared at him over his palm, trying to gauge if he was bluffing or not. Draco had already left before Pansy and Dean had finished working with their temula, and she hadn't seen him when they'd left the greenhouse. What was he doing? Hiding in the bushes? That was ludicrous. He couldn't have seen anything. Unless... Well, unless he had come back. But why would he do that? Maybe he had forgotten something, or maybe he had finally realized that running off and leaving his friend alone with a Muggleborn was a bad idea.

He had to be bluffing.

She finally pushed his hand away. "You couldn't have seen anything," she tried, "because there wasn't--"

"Keep digging, Pansy," he warned her. "You'll bury yourself alive."

"Thank you, King of Hyperbole," she muttered.

"Stop being cute. I saw you. I saw Thomas put his dirty, common, Mudblood hands on you, and I saw you like it."

Okay, that was enough. "Shut up," she snapped. "Just shut up, Draco."

"What?" he said, looking amused. "No more protestations? You don't want to try blaming another one of your friends? Personally, I think Raquel would have made a better scapegoat, but to each his own."

Pansy wanted to hit him. "You like to hear yourself talk, Malfoy."

He shrugged, watching her intently. "So, you're admitting it, then?"

She did hesitate, but her frustration was catching up with her. She averted her eyes and said quietly, "It was a mistake."

She heard Draco release a breath, and she braced herself. "Damn right it was," he said darkly.

"Oh, come off it," she said, irritated. "I would love nothing more than to sit down and count out all of your mistakes."

Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm. "Come on. We're ending this."

"What?"

Pansy was confused enough to allow herself to be dragged off again. Not that she had much choice in the matter.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To finish this," was his curt reply.

"You keep saying that," she said worriedly as they emerged into the Entrance Hall. "What are you-- Oh, no." Pansy felt her heart sink into her chest. He wouldn't. She tried to drag her feet, but Draco didn't even slow down. He headed directly over towards where Dean and Finnigan were loitering together. "Draco, don't," she pleaded. He wouldn't humiliate her like this, would he?

"Thomas!" Draco barked loud enough so that people turned to stare.

Mortified, Pansy tried to adjust her hand in his grip so that it looked like she was just holding his hand and that this had nothing to do with her. It was hard when she already had to practically jog to keep up with him.

Dean looked understandably shocked to see Draco and Pansy bearing down on him in a reasonably crowded corridor.

"We need to talk, Thomas," he said. "Now."

Poor Dean looked so confused. Pansy tried to apologize for this with her eyes, but Draco gave her a venomous look. Dean was looking back and forth between them, obviously trying to gage the situation, but Draco's authoritative tone made him visibly stiffen.

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Finnigan asked, looking genuinely curious.

"Shove off, Finnigan," he said without taking his eyes off Dean.

"The hell I will!"

Pansy wanted to tell him to keep his loud, Irish mouth shut. People were staring. As it were, she couldn't get the words past the lump in her throat.

Playing pacifier, Dean said, "It's okay, Seamus. I'll meet you."

"What?" his friend said incredulously. "Are you barmy?"

"Good question," Draco murmured barely under his breath with another glare down at Pansy. His grip kept her trapped beside him, so she tried to meld into his side and disappear. Why was he doing this?

"It's okay, mate," Dean repeated. He scowled at Draco. "Come on." He left a gaping Finnigan behind and began walking down the corridor at a brisk pace. Pansy choked down a yelp when Draco abruptly tugged her after him. She had to trot to keep up with them.

Dean finally paused beside a door. He tried the handle and peaked inside. Clearly finding it empty, he ushered them in. Hauling Pansy behind him, Draco swept past and into the classroom. Dean rolled his eyes at the dramatics and pulled the door shut behind them.

"Problem?" he said.

Pansy finally tore her arm out of Draco's hold and rubbed her wrist angrily.

"Oh, just a small misunderstanding," Draco said, leaning back against one of the desks, "and I'll be brief."

"Okay," Dean said uneasily.

Draco's mouth curled unkindly. "You seem to think that there's something going on between you and Pansy. I'm here to tell you that there's not. Whatever this was, it's over starting now."

A horribly loaded silence settled over the room.

Dean looked absolutely stunned. He glanced at Pansy, but she had no answers for him. This situation was too surreal to actually be happening.

"I don't think that's your call to make," Dean said slowly.

"I didn't ask what you thought," Draco said, looking as serious as she had ever seen him.

Dean seemed to shake himself of his surprise. "How is this any of your business, Malfoy?" he demanded angrily. He turned to her with an incredulous expression. "Pansy! What does he think he's doing?"

That was a very good question. "Draco--" she managed.

Draco cut her off. "He thinks that he's doing you a favor by halting this thing early and before you start getting even more deluded ideas about where this thing is going. It's not."

Pansy could only stare at him. Draco looked ridiculously self-satisfied-- even for him. Could he actually be enjoying himself? Dean looked like he wanted to punch him in the teeth.

"Pansy, why are you letting him--?"

"You're out of your element, Thomas," Draco interrupted. "You have no idea who you're dealing with here. If I were you, then I'd stick to my stencils and paint set."

"No one asked you, Malfoy!" Dean yelled. "I recall Pansy saying that you weren't her boyfriend, and even if you were, she's not your property!"

Draco spared her a brief look that spoke volumes of irritation. "Pansy probably told you a lot of things that are completely irrelevant, but I'm telling you that if you come near her again, then this school is going to have one less Mudblood polluting the system."

Pansy half-expected a punch to be thrown, and it appeared that Draco did, too. His hand was hovering over his pocket in a way that suggested his wand was hidden within the folds.

But Dean only closed his eyes, giving off the impression that he was counting within his head. He approached Pansy and gave her an entreating look. "You haven't talked to me in two weeks, and now this? What's going on?"

Pansy felt the weight of their combined stares, and backed away slowly from Dean. "I'm sorry," she said. She wasn't sure if she was apologizing for Draco or for leading Dean on. Maybe both.

Dean's expression darkened.

"This is all in the spirit of well-meaning advice," Draco said cheerfully. "Take it or leave it. Frankly, I'd take it."

"Shove it up your arse, Malfoy," Dean snapped. He turned back to Pansy. "When you're ready to talk to me yourself, then you can come and find me. I'm done talking to the puppet-master."

Pansy flinched at the comparison, but she didn't open her mouth to stop him from leaving. She shut her eyes against the sound of the door slamming. Another loaded silence permeated the room in his wake.

With Dean gone, Pansy allowed herself to sink into one of the desks, wishing that she could sink right through the floors and into the muck beneath the school. That was as low as she felt at that moment. She rested her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands. "I can't believe you just did that," she muttered.

Looking unconcerned, Draco pulled a file out of his pocket and began working on his nails. "Let's just hope that he has the sense not to tell anyone about you or this. It's embarrassing enough."

Pansy's head immediately shot up at that. "What did you say?"

"The absolute last thing we need right now is for one of Potter's Mudblood lackeys to be going around bragging that he managed to get his hand up the skirt of the girl everyone thinks is my girlfriend. How's that going to look?"

Pansy didn't remember standing or kicking the desk, but the pain that shot through her toes and the loud reverberations that echoed within the room stood as testament to the fact. "Fuck," she wheezed through grit teeth, collapsing back into the chair. She brought her foot up over her knee so that she could rub at her soar toes. Now, wasn't this familiar? Except that Thomas wasn't here to caress the pain away this time, thanks to--

"Careful," Draco said flatly and unnecessarily. He hadn't bothered to look up from his nails.

Pansy turned the force of all her anger onto the very face of her self-loathing. "How dare you," she seethed. He was embarrassed of her? He had the nerve when he had her all shades or mortified on a recurring basis? Whether it was his ridiculous obsession born of a jilted friendship with Harry Potter, his compulsive promiscuity, his unabashed racism, or with the completely gauche deportment that he inherited from his parents? God, his parents! How about his ice queen of a mother or his ex-con father, who was only out of prison due to having bribed his way through the system? Did she even want to start going back through the generations? If you really wanted to get into embarrassing behavior, then you could write a novel on the Blacks.

Pansy didn't care if her family was still considered noveau-riche. Frankly, it seemed preferable to partaking of the baggage that the Malfoys sported.

Why did she want to marry into this family again?

"You are never pulling something like this again," she told him. "I don't care how embarrassed you are. What you just did crossed so many lines that I couldn't even begin to count them all."

"I just did what had to be done," he responded in a sarcastic, singsong voice. "Isn't that what you told me after you handled Raquel?"

Pansy didn't appreciate having her own words thrown back at her. "No, you're trying to put me back in my place. Tell me that this was anything more than you asserting control of what you perceive as your territory, and I'll call you a goddamn liar."

"Then we really are twin souls," he said mockingly, holding a hand to his heart.

"And thank you for that, Mr. Honesty!" she cried in frustration. "Because you've never lied to me, right?"

"I haven't lied!"

She gave a bitter laugh. "Sorry, my mistake. You'd have to actually be capable of making a commitment before you could officially fail to deliver, right?"

Draco's jaw visibly tightened, and he was suddenly looming over her. Pansy glared defiantly up at him. "What have I been doing, but running myself ragged trying to make everything perfect for this bloody ritual if I don't know about commitment?"

She was getting really sick of him standing over her. Pansy leapt up, and her palms connected with his chest as she shoved him back. "What have you been doing? Does Theodore at least know what's happening? Because I haven't heard a word about any specially appointed tasks since that night. But none of that's even relevant, because that's not the commitment we're talking about!" She couldn't help the hysterical note that entered her voice. Why was he so impossible?

He stilled, and Pansy felt herself shrinking beneath his gaze. She wanted to take the words back. She hadn't meant to make this about that. She turned away from him so that she could focus on regaining her bearings. One traumatic conversation at a time.

She felt him come up on her from behind. "If that's not the commitment to which you're insinuating," he said softly, "then what, Pansy? What do you want from me?"

Did he really want her to say it aloud? Would it even make a difference? She knew what she wanted: for Draco to stop playing paramour to half the school. If she could only get him to see how happy she could make him if he would just let her... But this wasn't the time for that conversation, and Pansy shrank away from the direct confrontation. She told herself it had nothing to do with the strange fear-like sensation that clenched her gut.

What she actually said was, "I want you to trust me."

His gray eyes darkened, and there was an ephemeral glimmer of something before they became entirely opaque. Draco's smile was brittle. "Oh, I'm sure my trust is really your top priority these days."

Pansy ignored the bait and plowed ahead with, "Why won't you tell me what we're going to be doing? What's with all the secrecy? Don't you trust me or are you just going to conveniently forget to invite me when the actual task is performed?"

"Right now," he said warningly, "I'm considering it. And you have got some blazing gall to ask me about trusting you now."

"So, that's it, then? I stop towing the line and you're done with me?"

Draco groaned. "Will you please stop being so melodramatic?"

"Melodramatic? Who's the guy that just threatened Dean Thomas to stay away from me or else?"

"I wasn't being melodramatic," he said edgily. "He better stay away."

"Or what?" she challenged. "What will you do to him? No, scratch that. What are you going to do to me? Because I'm going to take a leaf out of your book, and I'm not going to let you dictate to me what I can or can't do, Draco."

"Wow. Maybe Raquel should have given that little speech when you were cowing her in front of everyone at our party."

"We're not talking about her!" Pansy didn't give a fig about Raquel. "This is about you and me."

"No." Draco pushed away from the desk and moved toward her. She instinctively began backing away, but he caught hold of her arm and tugged her into him so that their bodies were pressed together. "This is about so much more than you and me. This is about your friends, your family, and--"

"--the future of the wizarding world," she finished for him. She gaze a disbelieving laugh. "I can't believe you're giving me the pamphlet speech! Like I don't know? Like I haven't parroted it myself a thousand times?"

"Parroted? Christ, what is wrong with you?" he cried. "I don't even understand how you could have gotten yourself into this situation. He's a Mudblood, Pansy, and you let him touch you!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" she yelled back. "All that's happened is what you saw. It was a mistake, and it's not going to happen again."

"I don't believe you. You don't just end up in a situation like that! It doesn't just happen."

"You do," she said, feeling that residual sadness seeping out. "All the time."

"That's not how you work. Pansy, you never date."

"No, I don't," she said bitterly. "So, don't you think I'm overdue?"

"Not with him," he said sternly.

"Too bad," she shot back, "It's not for you to say." She spoke slowly and deliberately to enunciate her words: "You seem to have somehow forgotten, but I am not your property, and I am not below you." Pansy rolled back on her heels, feeling vaguely proud and feminist for verbally reasserting her autonomy. Draco's expression should have warned her that his next words would eviscerate the sentiment.

"I thought that was where you wanted to be," he murmured, all smug lips and mean glint in his eye.

Pansy drew back, stung. "Fuck you," she managed in a rush of released air from her lungs.

She sprang around and headed for the door, not longer willing to tolerate this conversation or the present company. She had just yanked the door open when Draco's hand came over her shoulder and slammed it shut again. His body was immediately pressing her against the cool wood, and Pansy yelped in protest.

"We are not done," he breathed across the nape of her neck.

Pansy hated herself for the shiver that ran down her spine. "On the contrary," she growled. A lock of her hair was caught between Draco's hand and the door. She tried to move her head, and a sharp pain went up her scalp. "We are more than done. Get off."

"No."

Pansy began struggling and hissing like a wet cat, and Draco gripped her hips and roughly pulled her back against him and then pitched them both forward so that she was stuck in place, pressed against the door with him plastered to her back. She jerked and cursed at him, but Pansy could feel him silently laughing at her from the reverberations of his chest against her back. She had a brief worry that her skirt was riding up in the back from the way that he was pressed against her. She tried to kick her feet against his ankles, but he swiftly trapped her feet between his own.

She could only keep up her fruitless struggle for so long. Eventually she had no choice. She had to give up. Panting from the angry exertion, she slumped in his arms and stared sullenly at the floor. This was beyond humiliating.

"I hate you," she grumbled, and for once, she actually felt like she could mean it.

In an act of complete patronization, Draco kissed the top of her head. "I know."

They stood like that, back-to-front, for what felt like forever, just breathing and marinating in their over-warm, shared space. The scent of the door filled her nostrils, mixed in with the aroma of him. Pansy wanted to cry, she was so angry and confused. This wasn't fair. Why couldn't he have just let her walk out the door?

"You can let go now," she said dejectedly. She wasn't going anywhere. If Draco wanted to finish this, then they would finish it.

He grunted against her hair, but didn't release her from his stranglehold. She sighed. From this close, she could see that the door actually had some intricate pattern etched into the wood. It was so faded that she could barely make it out. Some insect buzzed near her ear. She couldn't brush it away, but she didn't really feel inclined to either. The energy had just been completely sucked out of her, leaving her feeling lethargic.

"Wednesday night," Draco said abruptly. She didn't say anything, so he continued with, "That's when Filch helps himself to a nightcap."

Pansy frowned in confusion. What did Filch have to do with--?

"He usually stumbles out into the Entrance Hall about midnight, ranting to the portraits. Mrs. Norris will likely be right behind him. He'll pass out within ten minutes. Then, give or take an hour or so, the house elves will come and drag his sorry arse off. Prior to all of this, there's about two hours of prefect rounds."

He finally paused, and Pansy craned her neck around to look up at him. "I don't understand," she admitted.

"You wanted to be confided in," he said, expression unreadable.

"Yes..." she said uncertainly.

"So, I'm telling you my half of the plan that my father has just communicated to me via missive."

Pansy gaped at him, feeling like someone had just doused her with cold water. This was really happening. Draco was getting messages from the Dark Lord through his father.

"Now are you listening?"

"Filch inebriated. Prefect rounds," she said breathlessly. "Got it. Go on."

He nodded, and his cheek rubbed against hers with the movement. "He wants this done Thursday night. That's in four days. The best opportunity we're going to get is Wednesday night. It's cutting it close, but that's our window. Wednesday means that the prefects with the patrol route that includes the Entrance Hall will be Terry Boot and Susan Bones. Fortunately for us, they happen to despise one another. They only take half the time to finish their rounds, which leaves us with an hour gap."

Her head was spinning. "Okay. What happens then?"

Draco released her hips and clutched her arms instead. The pressure from his fingers felt like bear traps, and she shifted uncomfortably in his hold. She wanted to tell him that he was hurting her, but that seemed so very insignificant in the face of what he was telling her.

"During that gap, we're going to help Millicent get into Snape's potion stores."

"Snape? How are we--?"

"He usually joins Filch for the nightcap. We're going to have that gap of time after prefect rounds and while they're tipping the bottle."

Pansy processed that as well as she could with her brain buzzing the way that it was. "Okay. So, what are we going to do with these things from his stores?"

Draco's voice lowered to a raspy whisper against her ear. "What I tell you now stays between us, Pansy. Just us. I don't want you to tell anyone about this. Not Blaise. Not Millicent. Not Theodore. No one."

She didn't know why he would think that she'd feel compelled to confide anything to them, but she nodded anyway. "Tell me."

Draco released this breath that he must have been holding and the air ruffled her hair. The pressure from his hands fell from her arms, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She felt something quiver inside her when his body seemed to sag against her. Her heart was pounding and the fear was thick, but she tried to hold him back as best she could in their current position. There was something so much bigger than the both of them on the horizon, and everything that came before was suddenly small and far away.

"Tell me," she repeated.

He gave an odd, little laugh. "Oh, you're going to love this." His amused tone was belied by the way that his arms tightened around her.

Pansy was so off-kilter that she felt suspended in a state of vertigo. She was going to faint if he didn't get to it soon. She squeezed her eyes shut, gripped Draco's arms as tightly as she could, and said, "Tell me."

He did.

"We're raising the dead."

* * *

Cedric Diggory: June 24, 1995.

Triwizard Champion and True Hero.

Pansy stared at the plaque and tried not to shudder.

She didn't know when the plaque had gone up, since she didn't exactly spend her free time hanging out in the trophy room. She imagined that the only people aware of this plaque were the ones responsible for it and ambitious up-starts that wasted time in here drooling after other people's accolades...

... which explained how Draco had known to place her here. Pansy's mouth pressed into a grim line. She didn't believe that it was a coincidence that she was stuck staring at a memorial to a boy that had been foolish enough to defy the Dark Lord. So much for trust, eh?

Technically, Draco had told her to keep a lookout from this corridor, but he must have known that she would wander into the trophy niche. She was stationed right beside it, and there wasn't even a door. She was likely to get bored just standing in the dark corridor, staring at her own shoes, wasn't she? Draco was so transparent.

Disgusted with him, she returned to her post. Aside from being dark, the corridor was also freezing and smelling vaguely of mildew. The long-sleeved shirt and pants she had chosen to wear beneath her cloak weren't proving as useful as she had thought they would. She rubbed at her arms, trying to get the circulation back into her limbs. Hmn. Hanging out in dark places under suspicious circumstances... Pansy was beginning to see a recurring pattern in her routine.

It hadn't escaped her notice that Draco had placed her at the furthest possible point from where Millicent was going to be working. It frustrated her, and not because she necessarily wanted to be more involved, but because she took it as another sign that she was still under suspicion. She didn't think it would do any good to remind him that all she had done was kiss a boy. She hadn't exactly run off for a pow-wow with Potter.

Then again, maybe Draco was just being cautious, because Pansy had been wandering around in what felt like a daze ever since he had told her what they were expected to do. Thinking about it made her shudder, and she quickly shoved thoughts of it away. It didn't matter what would come later. She just had to get through tonight...

She rolled the small coin between her fingers. Draco had gotten the idea to enchant coins from Harry Potter's ridiculous faction during fifth year. All she had to do was use hers to signal the others when or if someone was coming from her direction.

Pansy wasn't exactly paying attention, so when a voice actually spoke beside her, she screamed and leapt away. The coin fell from her fingers and clanged loudly across the floor. Terror washed through her when a cold hand gripped her wrist and prevented her from escaping. She jerked against the hold, and her hood fell back.

"Parkinson?" said an incredulous voice.

She froze. That voice... Her panicked eyes skirted everywhere but directly at him. "Um, Boot?"

"Yeah." He lowered his own hood and released her arm. Piercing eyes regarded her from behind over-long curly hair.

"Are you completely off your rock?" she hissed, looking around for the coin. "What the hell are you doing lurking around in the shadows with your hood up?"

Boot snorted. "I'm on my rounds, Parkinson. What are you doing lurking around in the shadows with your hood up? After curfew?" he added.

Rounds? Oh, bloody hell. "Where's Bones?"

Boot was starting to look increasingly suspicious. "Hospital Wing. She had an accident in Potions this afternoon."

"Of course she did," Pansy muttered to herself. No Bones meant that Boot had no reason to purposely rush through his rounds. Damn Draco for being an overconfident twit. God, he was going to kill her.

"What?"

"I said that's too bad," she said.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Boot demanded, suddenly reminding Pansy of a nanny she used to have.

What was the excuse she was supposed to use in case she got caught? What... was... it...? Oh! "Detention!" she squeaked.

His eyebrows shot up. "Detention? This late?"

"That's right," she said, her eyes still skimming the floor for the enchanted coin. "Um, with Hagrid."

"Why would Hagrid schedule your detention for so late at night?" he asked.

"Oh, you know how unorthodox he is." Something gold caught the corner of her eye and she dove for it. Boot watched her with wide eyes as she triumphantly held the coin up. "Err, trinket," she explained. She stood and shoved it deep into her pocket where Boot couldn't see her using it to signal the others. "I'm picking some plant that... um, has to be picked at night. As for why this late, I'd have to say that the beast has something of a vindictive streak."

Boot scowled at her. "I can't imagine why. You only helped to get him sacked from his teaching post."

"Yeah," she sighed, feeling another nostalgic twinge at the memory of Dolores Umbridge. She wondered who'd have to be bribed to get her back as Headmistress. Pansy would be willing to front the bill. Watching Potter walk around again in a constant snit like he had fifth year would be worth it.

Ah, well. There was no point in dwelling in the past when there were more immediate things to concern her-- like the fact that Boot seemed to be buying her excuse.

"He should be sacked again for this," she added, being sure to pout. "Do you know that he actually expected me to find those plants in the Forbidden Forest? Draco almost died when that great oaf sent him in there first year."

Oddly enough, Boot didn't seem impressed. "And what a great loss that would have been," he said dryly.

Pansy took a step backward. "Well," she said, clapping her hands together, "best to get in a quick shower and then hop into bed. Early day tomorrow." She turned away from him and the false levity evaporated from her face. Just let me go, Boot, she willed silently. Two more steps around this corner, and I'll be--

"Wait."

--gone.

She cursed inwardly and turned back to him, trying to look bored. "Yes?"

"Could I talk to you for a second?" he said, taking a step forward.

"Bad time," she said immediately. "I need to shower." She hoped that it was too dark for him to realize that she was completely sans any dirt or other evidence of having been digging around outside.

"I just need a moment," he said stubbornly, looking about as happy about it as Pansy did.

"Still a bad time."

He frowned. "It doesn't seem like a bad time."

She scowled at him. "How would you know if this was a good or bad time for me, Boot?"

He shrugged, conceding the point. "Look, I just wanted to... to... apologize for the way that I acted at Art Club." The words clearly left a bad taste in his mouth, judging by his sour expression. She had to wonder why he had even bothered.

"You're forgiven," she said automatically. "I have to go now."

"And about Dean--"

"Really, Boot, if it's all the same to you, we'll skip that conversation and I'll be on my way," she said, "because I'm already bored."

The visibly self-satisfied expression gained from overcoming his own personal hurdle dissolved, and Boot's expression hardened. "Fair enough. I'm only here as a favor to Dean. He's been moping around since you started avoiding him."

Pansy said nothing. She wasn't going to discuss Dean with anyone ever again. Boot least of all.

He studied her face for a reaction, and when he received none, his mouth curved into a smile of disbelief. "You really don't care, do you?"

Pansy mimed a yawn. "If that's all, Boot," she said dispassionately, "then I'm sure that somewhere there's someone drawing in one of the library books. Maybe you should go see to that."

"Speaking of the library," he said, "I heard about you and Malfoy making a spectacle of yourselves."

That got Pansy's attention, and she gave him a sharp look. If someone had overheard them in the library...

"If sitting and reading really is all it takes to get you excited, then I don't envy the future Mrs. Boot."

He scoffed at that. "I'm all for a well-chosen euphemism, but I think sitting and reading is taking it a bit far."

"I don't care if we were shagging ourselves rotten on Madame Pince's desk. I really shouldn't have to vocalize that it's none of your business. Spread stories about someone else at your meetings of the Ravenclaw sewing circle."

"Well, I do admit that Slytherins behaving appalling is hardly news, but you didn't have to drag Dean into it."

"Far be it for me to take the fantasy away from you, but I don't recall Thomas ever participating in any sitting or reading with Malfoy and I. Frankly, I don't think Malfoy's sexuality could withstand such an impact. Nonetheless, do feel free to let your imagination run if you like."

"You don't fool me, Parkinson," he said. "I don't know what you've been feeding Dean, but let me tell you that there isn't a Ravenclaw in my year that doesn't know what went down between Malfoy, Turpin, and Brocklehurst."

"I guess, when you get down to it, Ravenclaw girls really aren't much better than your basic liquored-up Hufflepuff slag, eh?"

"You were using Dean to get back at Malfoy for what he did behind your back," he said, not bothering to beat around the bush.

Pansy briefly considered just hexing him and running away. Sure, she would lose points for it later, but that hardly seemed like a deterrent at the moment. "For a Ravenclaw, you are proving to be extraordinarily stupid, Boot."

"There are a lot of things that I could say about you, Parkinson," he said darkly. "Dean may be naïve, but I know that you and yours were celebrating about what happened to William and Moira. Hell, you were probably involved."

Pansy frowned at him. "Who?"

Boot managed to convey both incredulity and horror with seeming ease. "The Vestrys, Parkinson!"

"Oh, them." She smiled humorlessly at him. "Well, then I must be very industrious indeed if I managed to sneak out of the school unnoticed, go all the way to London, commit a complex double-murder, and then be back in time to finish my homework."

"I didn't say you were directly involved."

Pansy wondered what Boot would say if someone asked him to take responsibility for everything his parents had ever done. Maybe she'd find out.

Memo to self: Ask Mother for Dirt on the Boot Family.

"I really hate to be repetitive, but I'm critically bored by this conversation. The Vestrys are old news, and you're making base accusations. Surely you must have something better to do? No? Well, as it is, I really don't have time for this."

Boot squeezed the ridge of his nose, his patience clearly at its end. "You know what? I was going to ask you to come back to Art Club for another go, but I think the experience could actually kill me."

"Oh, is that what you were getting at with the forced apology and then the unfounded, borderline-offensive accusations? Well, I like your approach method. Very consumer-friendly. However, next time you could try an opening that skips all the pleasantries and just goes straight to the part where you spit in my face. I read somewhere that the key to a good speech is concision."

Boot blinked at her. "Christ. Dean never mentioned how long-winded you are."

She shrugged. "Some insults take longer than others."

"I guess."

"Um, Boot?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you still here?"

Boot seemed to slump in on himself. Pansy was alarmed when he rubbed at his eyes and she thought she caught a glimpse of wetness. She felt a flare of panic. Was there anything more awkward than when a man cried? He wouldn't, would he? What would she do with an overly emotional Ravenclaw? Run, she supposed. Millicent be damned. To prevent this, it was time for some sensitive handling.

"You're not crying, are you?" she blurted out, one foot extended in preparation for running away.

Boot looked up at her in surprise. "What? No!"

"Okay," she said skeptically.

"Look, I know that I'm being... Well, unfair, I guess. I know, okay? It's just... The Vestrys were like second parents to me. Moira and my mother went to school here together. They were roommates."

Pansy could feel her body gradually stiffening as he spoke, and she had a sudden impulse to hit him with a particularly powerful silencing spell. She didn't want to hear any of this.

"Will was the first one to teach me how to play Quidditch. For the love of--" His face screwed up and his voice choked off. "Their son is only five!"

Enough. Her voice was cold enough to freeze the now very visible moisture around his eyes. "Boot, this is all really fascinating and all, this intimate glimpse into your childhood. However, I do have a date with a bar of soap."

Boot's face lost some of its color, and he spat at her, "Be sure to scrub real hard."

With that, he turned and stalked away. Pansy let out a breath of relief. She didn't need for Boot to be guilting her right then, and if he thought that she was ever coming back to their stupid Art Club, then he was crazier than Dean. Never happening.

She turned to go and retrieve her housemates and bumped directly into Draco's chest. "Oomf!" He caught her before she could fall over. "Watch it!"

"Thanks so much for your concern," she said, looking over her shoulder to make sure that Boot wasn't still lurking behind her.

"I'd have more concern for Boot," Blaise said, coming around Draco's side. "You should have let him cry, Parkinson."

"You were listening?" she said carefully. They must have been waiting in the shadows. But for how long?

"We only heard the end," Draco said. His face told her that he suspected she had been discussing Dean, but they hadn't heard any of it. That was good. If Blaise found out about Dean, then it would be the end of her. "Why? Was there something we should have heard?"

Pansy glared at him and moved aside for her housemates. "How'd it go?"

"Splendidly," Draco said, clapping Millicent on the shoulder. Bulstrode looked drawn and pale, but that was nothing new. Her eyes were wide and blinking. She was clutching a bag in her hands like it was something sacred.

"So it seems," Pansy said.

Draco laughed and pried the bag out of Millicent's fingers. He put his arm around her broad shoulders and led her down the corridor. As they passed, Pansy heard him say to her, "You've done us proud, Millicent."

Pansy allowed herself one shiver, and then she followed after them.

* * *

Thursday morning and afternoon passed by in a haze.

Pansy went to class. She turned in her homework. She avoided Dean and remained at Draco's side, pretending not to see Dean's hurt frustration. She couldn't afford to care about that when they were mere hours away from... from... She couldn't even think it. Instead, she just clutched Draco's hand and focused on the warm palm in hers. If she could just focus on that, then she could get through this. All of it.

As the hours of the evening passed by with unearthly speed, Pansy lay on her bed and stared at its ceiling. Her fingers rhythmically clenched and unclenched the bedding beneath her fingers. Her roommates were all noticeably silent. Millicent was huddled in on herself on the floor beside her bed. Pansy hadn't spared her or any of them a glance in hours.

She was focusing on listening to her own heartbeat when Millicent broke the silence.

"I'm sorry."

"What was that, Bulstrode?" Raquel asked from her own bed. She was still in her clothes, just as the rest of them were.

Millicent's eyes were wide and fearful. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

Pansy slowly turned her head and stared at her. Even from across the room, she could see that Bulstrode was shaking. She began to feel a shadow of trepidation creeping up on the fog she had immersed her brain in. "What have you done?" she whispered.

"Yes, what have you done?" Blaise asked threateningly. She was already advancing on her.

Millicent's shaking increased, and her words came out in a rush. "I didn't get all of the things on the list."

The fog evaporated. It was replaced by a horrible buzzing, and Pansy sat up abruptly. "What?"

There was a low gasp from Alyssa. Blaise had turned white. She turned and stared at Pansy in dismay. "What?"

Millicent looked absolutely miserable. "I didn't get all of the stuff from Snape's stores."

Pansy stood and moved so that she was standing above her. "No," she said in a contained voice, "I couldn't have heard that right, because I thought you just said that you didn't get the extremely crucial ingredients that we all put ourselves on the line to help you get. The things that you said you got."

"The things that were in the bag that you were carrying," Raquel said dangerously from beside Pansy's elbow. She was suddenly aware that they were all crowding behind her, glaring down at their roommate.

"I panicked!" Millicent cried.

Pansy reached down and yanked Millicent to her feet with strength from a reserve she hadn't even known herself to have. "You panicked?" she yelled. "We did all of the work for you. All you had to do was walk into the room and pick some things up, and you panicked?"

"I'm sorry!" she cried again.

Pansy shook her as hard as she could, her own panic manifesting itself. "Why did you say that you'd gotten them? Why did you lie?"

"I was afraid!"

"You stupid cow!" Blaise shouted. "Do you have any idea how afraid you're going to be?"

Once the Dark Lord found out that they had failed... God. Pansy was going to throw up. She shoved her away. Millicent whimpered and slumped back down to the floor.

"What have you done?" Alyssa said in a small voice. She put a hand over her own mouth like she might cry.

"And you waited until now to tell us this," Raquel said darkly. "This bloody perfect."

"What are we going to do?" Alyssa asked her, clutching Pansy's arm. "What are we going to do? Should I go get Draco?"

They all looked to her, waiting. Millicent was making suspiciously wet noises from the floor.

Pansy pushed Alyssa away from her and turned away from them. "No. Just... Just shut up." She pressed her palms against her eye sockets and tried to think. She could send Millicent off to confess her folly to Draco, but she didn't know where he was. He had been conspicuously absent since lunch. She doubted very much that he would still be in his room. This was so like him to disappear right when he was needed most. She could have killed him.

God, Draco deserved this. The Dark Lord had given this task directly to them. They couldn't afford to mess this up. Draco was a bloody fool to have given Millicent this task. Millicent, of all people. What had he been thinking?

Okay, focus, Parkinson, she told herself. What to do? What to do?

Pansy's easel suddenly caught her eye. Her latest project was sitting on it. It was mostly unfinished, but she had hoped to finish it by next week. Something clicked in her brain, and she flew over to her bureau and practically ripped the first drawer out of its socket. She dumped the contents onto her bed without thought and rummaged for the set of keys she knew to be within the mess.

"What are you doing?" Raquel demanded.

"Saving us," she snapped. Once she had located the keys, she hastily dropped to her knees and reached beneath her bed for her trunk. Her roommates clustered around her to watch as she stuck the appropriate key into the fourth lock from the right. She would have to remember to change her hiding places and choice of lock later after this was all over with.

If.

"You're going to paint? Now?" Blaise cried.

"No," she said, thrusting a bottle of paint into her hands. "We are."

"You've completely lost it!"

"Either shut up or help me." Pansy handed a bottle to Raquel. To say Alyssa, she said, "Get me a bag."

They looked confused and frightened, but they followed orders well enough. "Just fill in the blank spots," she said, demonstrating by squirting onto the partially finished canvas.

Raquel and Blaise exchanged looks, but they soon followed suite. Blaise was muttering to herself about Pansy's sanity, but she also began to cover the places that Pansy hadn't yet got to.

It only took a few moments, and then Pansy told them all to step back. She blasted the soaking canvas with a drying spell. She grabbed it up into her arms and turned to address them all.

"Did you find a bag?" she asked Alyssa. The girl nodded and held up a medium sized cloth handbag. It would have to do.

"Give it to Blaise."

Alyssa did so, and Pansy nodded. "We're going to fix this," she said. She turned to address just Raquel and Alyssa. "I need you two to go over to the boy's dorm. Tell them what's happening and to meet us in that corridor nearest to the Entrance Hall." She gave Millicent a disdainful look. "Bulstrode, you're coming with me. You, too, Blaise."

No one moved, and Pansy growled in frustration. "Go now! Don't get caught. Just get them there as soon as possible."

Alyssa and Raquel scurried out of the room. "Come on," she said to the remaining girls as she pulled on a coat. "Bulstrode, get off your arse now! Where's the list of the things that Draco gave you? Please tell me that you still have it."

Millicent nodded. She got up and retrieved it from inside one of her drawers.

"Brilliant. Let's go."

The two girls followed Pansy out the door, down the steps, and out of the common room. Then, she forced them to run to keep up. Pansy needed this to be fixed as soon as possible, and there wasn't a moment to be spared when Draco had instructed them to be outside in a matter of minutes.

She stopped them a few doors down from Snape's personal rooms. She was panting from exertion, but she forced the words out. "Give me the bag." Blaise handed it over, and Pansy rolled it up and stuffed it into her coat pocket. "Okay, Blaise, I need for you to go down that way and to hide behind the statue of the enormous Minotaur. Draco has all of the enchanted coins, so you're going to have to settle for good old-fashioned sabotage if you see anyone-- Professor or otherwise-- coming down this way. Snape's one thing, but I can't balance two teachers at once. There isn't time."

"Sabotage? You're going to get me expelled!"

"Blaise!"

"Fine!" She ran off down the corridor and disappeared into the darkness.

"Bulstrode, give me the list," she said. Millicent handed it over, and Pansy stuffed it inside her spare pocket.

Pansy set down her canvas and grabbed Millicent by the shoulders to make sure that she was paying attention. "You're going to wait for me just over there." She pointed to an adjacent corridor. "Right around that corner."

"What if someone comes?" Millicent said worriedly.

"Then I have the same advice for you as I just gave Blaise. Hex the life out of them."

Millicent's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

Her patience with Millicent Bulstrode was long gone, and she took the opportunity to shake her again. "Do I look like I'm kidding, Bulstrode? This is all your fault, and the least you can do is hex someone if it's necessary now."

Looking shamed, Millicent fled to her designated spot. Pansy watched her go and then took a huge, fortifying breath. Then, she picked up the canvas and moved to the appropriate door. She knocked before she could lose her nerve.

When Snape opened the door, he was met with a bright smile from Pansy. "Hi!" she chirped. "Are you busy?"

Snape frowned down at her. "Yes. If you'll recall, your class just experienced a quiz due to the outrageous lack of preparation you exhibited." He gave her a pointed look. "I trust that when I get to your quiz I will receive a much-needed respite from the otherwise endless terrain of failures?"

Pansy laughed nervously. "Right... Um, I'm sure that you'd love to take a break from grading so that you could take a look at my painting?" she said hopefully.

Snape glanced at the canvas in her arms, seeming to consider. "Well, I suppose I could spare a moment for that," he conceded. "Although, why you felt compelled to impose on me this late--"

"Excited!" she blurted out. He stared at her, and she realized that she hadn't actually formed a sentence. "I was. Err, I was too excited to wait."

Cringing at his puzzled expression, Pansy hurried past him into the room. He closed the door after her and followed her over to where she had set up her canvas on his available easel. At his approach, she immediately backed away under the pretense of wanting to give him space.

"Miss Parkinson, I am aware of the time," he said with a raised eyebrow. "Just as I am aware that it is way past your curfew."

"Oh... Well, I was just so excited to have it finished, and I wanted you to look at it. Forgive me?" she said, smiling coquettishly even though she knew that it would only annoy him.

Indeed, Snape's lip curled, but then he turned to inspect the work, and that was all that mattered. Pansy fidgeted for a moment, nerves and purpose warring with each other. She surreptitiously eyed his supply closet, which he had conveniently left open for her. A nearby cauldron was bubbling away, suggesting that she had interrupted more than quiz grading. It also explained why Snape had opted not to go with carpeting for his private rooms.

"Professor, you wouldn't happen to have any spare butterbeer laying around, would you? Like last time?"

Snape waved her off, still intensely staring at her "painting." Pansy hoped that meant that she had his tacit permission. She hurried over to his small kitchen and glanced back at him. He hadn't taken his eyes off the canvas. She reached up and pushed some of his glasses around in their cabinet.

Snape didn't look.

Pansy took another fortifying breath. Okay, this was as good a chance as any. Draco was going to owe her the best shag of her life for all of this. He owed her anyway.

Keeping her gaze trained on Snape, she edged towards the supply closet. As soon as she was close enough, she dashed inside. This was the riskiest part of her spur of the moment, makeshift plan. If Snape so much as glanced behind him and saw that she wasn't standing there, then this was all for nothing. Pansy pulled out the list and the bag from her pockets and did her best to read the labels on his shelves in the dim light cast by the cracked door. She glanced down at the list and thanked her lucky stars that Millicent had at least done some of the work for her and crossed out the things she had already gotten. There were only about four items still uncrossed. She also had to thank them for the fact that Snape had all of his ingredients already bottled and ready to drop directly into her bag.

It only took moments, but it felt like years before she was finally able to sneak back out of the supply closet with the bag hidden within her coat and beneath her arm.

Snape's back was still to her, and Pansy almost cried with relief. She approached him slowly. "You know, this was a bit late for me to have bothered you," she said. "I should come back tomorrow."

Snape snorted. "It's a bit late for that."

"Yes, but I could--"

He cut her off. "Although, you most definitely should not have disturbed me for this."

Pansy frowned. Granted, it wasn't a real painting, but Snape didn't know that. "What do you mean?" she demanded indignantly.

"I can see that you were trying to experiment in your style, but 'disgusting mess' doesn't serve you well," he said unkindly.

Pansy's mouth fell open. "Well, I never--"

"No, and you never should again." He suddenly seemed to realize that her arms were empty. "Weren't you going to get a drink?"

"Not thirsty after all. What do you mean by talking about my work like that? It's existential!"

"It's a waste of my time," he said, "and I never thought I'd have to say that to you, Miss Parkinson." He shook his head disgustedly.

She wanted to continue arguing with him, but she suddenly realized that she was wasting time arguing with Snape over a fake painting.

"All right," she said stiffly. "I'm sorry that I wasted your time." She brushed past him and gripped the canvas with her free hand that wasn't attached to the arm holding the bag in place.

Snape sighed and rubbed at his nose. "It's late, Miss Parkinson. Maybe if you came back tomorrow, we could discuss what you were trying to accomplish with this... experiment." He said the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth, and Pansy huffed at the slight.

"Yes, I'll do that," she said.

Snape crossed the room and opened the door for her. "Now, to bed, Miss Parkinson. I don't want to have to remind you of your curfew again."

"Yes, sir."

As soon as the door had closed, Pansy rushed over to where Millicent was waiting for her. "Bulstrode!"

Millicent jumped at the sound of her voice. "You did it?" She sounded surprised.

"Of course," she said with a confidence belied by her shaking hands. She dropped the canvas and pulled the bag out from under her coat. "Here. Take this to Draco and the others. They should be in that corridor nearest the Entrance Hall by now. Tell him that Blaise and I will meet the lot of you out in the Forbidden Forest."

Millicent hesitated. "Pansy--"

"Bulstrode, go!"

The other girl flinched, but she quickly hurried past her in the direction of the Entrance Hall. Pansy doubled back past Snape's rooms and went to retrieve Blaise. She found her behind the statue.

"Any problems?" she asked.

Blaise shook her head. "No one came by. Did you get the stuff?"

"Yeah. Come on. Let's get outside before we completely run out of luck and all of this goes straight to hell."

Blaise snorted in agreement, and they both took off. They stuck to the shadows and took the roundabout way through the castle, not wanting to be caught by any ghosts, professors, or prefects. Once they were outside, they began to run until they had crossed the grounds and entered the forest. Pansy realized with dismay that she had forgotten her wand in the rush to cover Bulstrode's mess, but Blaise pulled hers out, and her Lumos spell lit their way to the clearing.

"What took you so long?" Theodore immediately demanded.

Pansy and Blaise gave him death glares as they struggled to catch their collective breaths.

"Where's Bulstrode?" Alyssa asked.

Pansy stared at her. "She's not here?" True enough, a glance around the group revealed that the large girl was nowhere to be seen. "Where is she?"

"We thought she was with you," Theodore said, coming closer to stare down at her.

A sick feeling gripped her stomach. She looked at Draco helplessly. He was leaning against a tree at the edge of the group, with his face partially obscured in darkness. "You at least got the things, didn't you?"

"Oh, we got them," Draco said, holding up the bag. "But Bulstrode said that you told her to come back and find you after she delivered the stuff."

Pansy frowned. "What? I never... Why would I tell her to do that?"

Draco shrugged. "How were we supposed to know what your plan was?" He seemed remarkably unconcerned about it all.

"The idiot," Raquel spat.

Pansy kept glancing around as if Bulstrode might appear if she looked hard enough. "I told her to come out here with you. What do we do?" She didn't think her nerves could handle a search through the castle for the erstwhile member of their group. She couldn't believe that Millicent could have misheard her so badly.

Draco shrugged. "We'll just have to do this without her."

"I thought she was an important part of this," Alyssa said dubiously.

"She's already served her part. Well," he said sneeringly, "at least she was supposed to have."

"Remind me to murder her later," Blaise muttered.

"Forget about Bulstrode," Raquel snapped. "Let's just do this thing."

"Do we get to find out what we're doing now?" Crabbe asked hopefully.

Draco patted his shoulder and smiled. "Yes."

"Don't think I didn't notice how you waited until the very last moment to tell us," Blaise said, glaring at him. "I can't wait to hear your reasoning on that."

Draco didn't dignify that with a response. He moved to the center of the clearing with the bag and said, "This could take all night. I hope you all remembered your coats."

Actually, only the boys and Pansy had. She didn't offers hers, and neither did they to the shivering girls.

"Well, come on, then," Theodore said impatiently. "Let's open the bag and get started!"

"Yes, please do open the bag, Mr. Malfoy," said an unexpected voice.

Alyssa let out a small cry before her brother slapped a hand over her mouth, and Pansy sprang around to see her worst nightmare emerging from the shadows.

She felt her blood freeze. Oh, please, no. They had been so careful...

The headmaster stepped out of the darkness and into their clearing like some kind of portentous spectre. Behind him, two more shapes appeared and she quickly realized that it was Professor McGonagall and-- God-- Snape. Blaise was nearest them, and she stumbled back with an expression of stark horror on her face.

Pansy's vision began to go dark at the edges, and she had the sudden sensation that the earth had dropped out from under her feet. She was only vaguely aware that Raquel was clutching her arm hard enough to bruise.

Dumbledore was sans the infamous twinkle in his eye as he regarded them all. "I'm rather curious as to know what you have planned for all of the curious things that have gone missing from Professor Snape's stores."

Oh, bloody hell.

* * *

TBC...