Save Yourself

Save Yourself , Chapter Twenty-Four

The entire Slytherin population was evacuated from the dorms, sent down to the Great Hall for a late breakfast. Rumors spread quickly, most prominent stating she had committed suicide. I didn’t speak a word to Draco as we made our way to the Great Hall, and in turn he returned the favor. As we both sat down at the far end of the long table, avoiding contact with the rest of the gossiping students, I looked him directly in the eye and voiced what we both knew would eventually come up.

“Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this,” I said quietly, my voice low and void of emotion.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked darkly, his cold eyes bearing into mine.

He was playing a game of wills, one we hadn’t explored in nearly four years Despite the lack of confidence and humanity held within his stare, I was determined to show him I was worthy of the truth.

“Stop protecting me, Draco, and tell me the fucking truth,” I hissed, my anger getting the better of me for the first time in quite a while.

He paused for a moment as he decided what the best course of action would be. I held my breath, anxious to hear his decision. It may not have seemed like much, but to me it was the moment when he told me what I was to him: a wife in need of protecting, a child, or an equal.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was truly only a moment or two, he took in a deep breath and bowed his head; it was the most humane thing I had seen him do all morning.

“I didn’t kill her,” he answered earnestly. “She was the one who took her own life.”

I nodded, my eyes downcast and fingers tracing a pattern on the wooden table. “Was she the one who decided it was time for her to die?”

Draco grimaced, not from the truth but from having to tell me. “No.”

I nodded once more, numbness spreading through my mind as I glanced back up toward him, a new perception with a considerable amount of respect evident for my husband forming in my mind.

“For everything time takes away from us, we receive something of equal value,” Draco said softly, his voice quavering slightly as the impact of his actions finally hit hom. “Blaise is gone, and in her place we stand together. In the end, because she is gone, our son’s life is going to be better than it would have been had she still stood in our way.”

“I know,” I said quietly, my hand instinctively moving toward my stomach.

“The ends will always justify the means, Pansy,” he said, his tone emotionless but dead serious. “Always remember that.”

I nodded again, his strength infusing my own weakness as we sat in silence, listening to the rumors abound around the Slytherin table, each more ridiculous than the last.

We spent nearly four hours in the Great Hall before we received news, in the form of a sinister Professor Snape. A hush fell over the room, where the entire Slytherin population was being kept as the teachers investigated Blaise’s death. Without a word, the formidable Potions Master approached Draco and I, a sour look upon his face as he easily parted the crowd.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he stopped in front of the pale Slytherin, then turning toward me, his lips parted as he began to address me as well. “Miss—”

“It’s ‘Missus,’” Draco corrected the professor, “sir.”

“Very well then, Missus Malfoy,” Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. “If you two would be so kind as to follow me.”

Silently, the two of us complied, following the windowed professor out of the Great Hall, from which emerged frantic whispers as the House finally learned the truth about the relationship Draco and I had.

We followed the man through the maze of Hogwarts halls, Draco guiding me gently with his hand pressed into the small of my back in a protective manner. He eyed each crossing corridor, as if to make sure there were no evils lurking about, ready to jump out and attack the three of us. I walked slower than usual, both due to my awkward form and reluctance at what lay ahead of us.

“Am I going too fast?” the professor asked after a particularly quick walk through a brightly lit corridor.

“No,” I lied, ignoring the protests from my muscles from having to carry so much weight.

Regardless of my words, Professor Snape slowed his stride noticeably for the rest of the way. Despite the situation at hand, I still felt the tinges of resentment toward Snape trickle into my mind for treating me as if I were unable to walk at a normal pace to keep up with the man.

We reached our destination quickly, a statue of a gargoyle whose face was frozen in a nasty sneer. Snape mumbled something under his breath, and, to my surprise but apparently not to Draco’s, the monstrous figure jumped aside to reveal a narrow passageway leading to a spiral stairway.

At the top of the staircase was a solid oak door that opened up to a large, well-lit room strewn with silver objects and portraits hanging on the walls. Standing behind a large mahogany desk was Headmaster Dumbledore, looking extremely morose.

“Sir,” Snape addressed the Headmaster respectfully. “Draco and Pansy Malfoy.”

Dumbledore looked up at the two of us gravely, his mind seemingly reading ours. If I had been a Gryffindor, squirming could have definitely been an option.

“Take a seat,” Dumbledore gestured toward two empty chairs set in front of his desk. The two of us complied, neither surprised the Headmaster suspected us to have something to do with the death of Blaise.

After a long moment of silence, the Headmaster finally cleared his throat and began to speak.

“I know you two are both quite aware of this morning’s tragedy,” he said slowly, ice blue eyes bearing into our each in turn.

“We are,” Draco spoke for both of us, his lack of compassion shining through his sharp features.

“Do either of you know what happened?” Dumbledore asked, his searching gaze upon us. “Why she apparently committed suicide?”

“No,” Draco answered, once again speaking for myself as well as his own self.

“Pansy?” the Headmaster fell back on my given name, most likely unsure of how to address me.

“She broke up with her boyfriend a few days ago,” I said clearly, unafraid of what the old man seated before us could do to Draco and I. “I overheard her informing Millicent Bulstrode the night before last.”

I hadn’t been lying; Blaise truly had broken it off with Terrence Nott in the days before her death. Draco and I both knew that it had absolutely nothing to do with anything, however.

Dumbledore breathed in deeply before continuing, his age showing considerable in his wrinkled facial features.

“If we don’t find out what was Miss Zambini’s incentive, I’m afraid we’re going to have to take drastic measures to find out the truth.”

Draco’s eyes flashed dangerously, and I immediately realized what Dumbledore was hinting toward.

“You can’t administer Veritaserum without the Ministry’s approval,” Draco sneered, his obvious lack of respect for the Headmaster shining through. “If my father finds out—”

“Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore’s voice cut through Draco’s like a knife, silencing his arrogance immediately. “You yourself are about to become a father. It’s time for you to stop depending on your own and start realizing exactly what fatherhood is about, instead of running to yours every time things don’t go the way you want them to.”

A rather obvious glance was thrown my way as he spoke, and I suddenly felt as if I should be more than a little defensive of myself. I glared toward the old man, my dislike of him boiling over to hatred in a fit of hormonal rage.

“Blaise was a bitch, plain and simple, “ I snapped, finally unable to take anymore of Dumbledore’s antics. “She has always hated me and has gone after Draco like you wouldn’t believe, especially in the past few years. We had nothing to do with her death—she killed herself, there’s nothing more to it than that. She’s been on the road to suicide since the day she was born.”

With that, I stood up as quickly as I could with my bulging stomach and awkward stance, storming past a bewildered Snape and finally out the door, leaving three shocked men in my wake.

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