Elementals of Magic: Prophecy of Lies

Chapter 22

Cold-Hearted Loveliness

Pansy collapsed onto her bed. Draco had talked to her. Talked to her. But she hadn´t cared. She was supposed to, yet she didn´t.

It had been too tiring, these days, sleeping in cold corridors under Draco´s Merging Cloak, indulging in his scent, and knowing that he could never belong to her. The brunette was still going to use Draco´s Merging Cloak, whether he liked it or not, whether he approved of it or not. She wasn´t a little girl that needed his permission for everything. She was an able-bodied Slytherin who would do whatever she needed to reach her goal.

Pansy had taken the tiring job of keeping Draco safe upon herself. The job that drained her of all she had, that sucked out everything she had and made her eyes deadened.

The Slytherin´s marks hadn´t gone down. She wasn´t expected to be at the top of their class, like Draco, but she was expected to be in the top ten. It had taken her all the effort she had left to hold on to number three, right below Granger and Draco.

The tears had stopped a long time ago. She didn´t have any tears left. Now, instead of tears, there was nothing. Nothing except emptiness, emptiness where her heart should have been.

Pansy´s heart had been shattered into millions of tiny pieces. Those pieces had been glued back together, though haphazardly, and her heart was a disfigured clump of broken shards, sharp edges sticking up everywhere and pieces stuck to foreign pieces that had all the niches and bumps at the wrong places.

Could she love again? Pansy didn´t know. Even if she could, would it be anything but bittersweet? Draco had been ingrained into each of the shattered fragments of her heart, the heart that wasn´t even supposed to exist in the first place.

Draco infuriatingly angered her, yet she loved him with all she had, all her heart, even though it was now a hodgepodge of jumbled jigsaw pieces that weren´t put together properly and were left deformed forever. She loved him because he was beautiful and was wonderful and a bit caring and a bit sweet underneath the cold front that Lucius had constructed, even back then. And she hated him for causing her to fall in love with him, for doing something that should never have happened to anyone with the Parkinson name, for making her weak and pathetic, a slave to love, something that no Parkinson had ever been before until her. Pansy should have hated the exquisitely perfect blonde for breaking her heart, but she couldn´t. However, the brunette did hate him for doing this to her, draining her of her youth, vigor, and vitality.

Because Pansy loved Draco, she could never hate him in peace. The love was always stronger than the hate, overpowering it. Another reason that she hated him, all the while loving him with a fierce passion.

Pansy barely slept for an hour before rising from the hardly warm bed. The sleep wasn´t even peaceful. She had tossed and turned fitfully. Even sleeping in corridors was better than this, because she could manage to catch some sleep that way while Draco was sharing a warm bed with Potter. It was a way of punishment, punishing her for falling in love with Draco, falling in love with a charmer that lived up to his family name, punishing her for betraying the Parkinson name. The bed was hardly warmer than the stone corridors, and she found that she had grown accustomed to the hard floor. The soft mattress was a foreign object. How was she going to survive the summer at Parkinson Manor? Probably by taking the mattress off of the bed.

All of the brunette´s dorm-mates were still asleep, which she was thankful for. Silly simpletons that would grovel before the Dark Lord´s feet and obey him like faithful puppies. Pansy locked herself into the bathroom that they shared. No one was going to see her like this, weak and pathetic. All because of Draco.

One entire cabinet had been devoted to her stuff, and there were only two cabinets in the place. The other girls had not dared to object. After all, she was a Parkinson. The walls were made of the same stone as the rest of the dungeons, gloomy and foreboding. A large bathtub made of marble stood to one side, big enough to hold two people. A marble sink stood by the toilet, which was a few paces away from the bathtub.

A large mirror was opposite the sink, extending from the floor to a few millimeters below the ceiling. The oval-shaped glass was attached to two thin beams of wood at the poles, the two beams connecting the mirror to the two wider beams of wood at the sides. Where the beams of wood intersected was a pattern of curls, much like the designs on letterheads. The ebony formed into two griffin claws that rested on the stone floor.

Pansy opened the mahogany cabinet and took out her makeup. She applied tons of foundation, then outlined her eyes several times, making sure that the black covered the red around her eyes. The brunette then dabbed loads of purple eye shadow on her eyelids in another attempt to obscure her tired eyes. Tired eyes were a sign of weakness, and she was not going to appear weak.

The Slytherin applied a royal purple lipstick, the same shade as her eye shadow, to her lips, making sure that every inch of tissue was covered by the artificial substance. She then applied a layer of gloss to the now dark purple lips, making them glittery as well. Glitter always made people look more lively and cheerful than they really were.

The brunette took out glitter body gel and rubbed a plenty amount onto her neck, arms, and legs, the glitter sure to blind eyes, due to the concentration and amount. The Slytherin then braided her hair into an elaborate fishtail braid and tied the plait of hair with a dark purple ribbon, same exact color as everything else.

Pansy then put on a dark purple spaghetti strap and a miniskirt of the same shade and slipped on black leather boots. After that, the brunette put on deep purple robes and looked at herself in the mirror. She had to have matching colors of everything, of course. After all, being an aristocrat meant looking spectacular every day. Pansy looked like her normal everyday dressy and cheery self. Good.

The brunette made her way to the Great Hall, where there were only Ravenclaws besides herself and the professors, no doubt because their House was the only one that hadn´t thrown a party the previous night, celebrating the victory of their champion.

Idiotic Ravenclaws. Books weren´t everything. Look at Granger. She was incredibly smart, yet it took her three years to realize that Weasel liked her back.

Brains didn´t mean everything to society. Without other factors, such as money, prestige, or looks, then one could never advance in society, much less marry into a good family. Ancient tomes of knowledge were just ancient tomes of knowledge. They were mainly just there, their purpose to fill up young minds with useless information.

Pansy surveyed the Ravenclaws. Head Boy was surrounded by his friends, and his Sixth Year girlfriend was gazing adoringly at him. Mordred, she better not have looked like that in past times. Further down the table was the group of Seventh Year girls. Turpin was talking animatedly while the others exchanged looks amongst each other.

Turpin moved her head, and the two young women´s gazes locked on each other. Turpin smiled sinisterly before removing her gaze and turning to Padma Patil. Something was not right. Turpin wouldn´t have brushed her off so easily. There had been malicious triumph in those eyes. Pansy made a mental note to herself to keep an eye on the Ravenclaw.

School Sluts had always been Ravenclaws. Hufflepuffs would never dare do something so scandalous. Their little minds would stop if they dared to do such disloyal things. Hufflepuffs wanted a sweet relationship in which both sides were wonderfully faithful and honest with each other, never keeping secrets from each other or doing anything unfaithful. Why, they would faint if their lover was caught looking at someone else. Stupid dunderheads.

The Gryffindors held a similar concept when it came to romance. They wanted it to be for love. The kind of foolish love that wouldn´t get anyone anywhere. They liked their love lives to be exciting, but they still wanted it to be built on faith and trust. Being sluttish would be a cowardly thing to do in their eyes.

Slytherins, meanwhile, would never stoop that low. Love? Love existed as much as Hufflepuffs going to a strip bar--not a chance. There was no romance. Marriages were made for wealth, power, and prestige, nothing else. They were business ventures.

Ravenclaws, though, were the type of people willing to slut around. They were smart enough to do so, certainly. And why not? It was a good learning experience. But not many people were willing to take used goods. Served them right.

Love would never be good and pure and perfect. Pansy had first-hand experience. Love was a tool that would destroy anyone who dared to claim it, its pretty illusions enslaving foolish humans. Yet, who wouldn´t want love? It was bliss and joy and exhilaration. She should have listened to her father´s talks about love more.

"Never fall in love, Pansy. Never fall in love."

"Why not, Father?"

"You see what we have here?" Her father gestured to the magnificent sitting room, one of many in Parkinson Manor, though it was not even near the extravagance of Malfoy Manor. Three glass walls surrounded the room, letting in shafts of sunlight that fell upon the mahogany floor, covered with a thick, forest green, velvet carpet. A crystal chandelier hung on the ceiling, ivory candles resting in the candelabras. The room was spacious. A glass coffee table was near one end, a set of three royal green plush sofas around the coffee table centerpiece, the longest sofa facing the other side of the room. Behind the sofa, at the very right of the wall, was the mahogany door, the sunlight gleaming off of the rich brown panels. On the opposite of the room was a table. The round tabletop was made of glass while mahogany legs supported the clear surface. Eight high-backed mahogany chairs encircled the table. Pansy sat in front of a glass wall, facing her father and the rest of the room. Her hands clutched the sides of the chair, and she swung her legs happily as she listened to her father´s lesson, one of many during her childhood days, before Hogwarts. Her father had taught her the proper behavior of Parkinsons while her mother instructed her on the proper etiquette of ladies. She had been at the smart age of six at that time, two years after she first met Draco, two years after she became engaged to Draco. Pansy nodded, her eyes barely surpassing the top of the table. Her hair had been braided into two braids, tied at the end with red silk ribbons. Fiddy, her personal caretaker/nurse House Elf, had dressed her in pink satin robes, her favorite pair. Draco was coming to visit today, along with Lord and Lady Malfoy.

"You will lose all of this if you ever fall in love. You like all of this, don´t you?"

Pansy nodded enthusiastically. The Sun Room was her favorite room in the Manor. She liked to play by the walls, the sunlight streaming onto her small form as she broke the head off of a Harry Potter doll, given to her by her older brother, Peter. He had been brought up for the Light, her for the Dark. Draco had asked her once, while she broke the head off of another Harry Potter doll, why. She had looked at him with surprise as she answered, "You like him? He´ll be the downfall of the both of us." Draco had nodded and contemplated her answer while she dragged him away, to the lake.

"If you ever fall in love, Pansy, you´ll lose everything. The Manor, your power, your prestige. You´ll be scorned by proper society. You´ll never be able to play in this room again. You´ll lose all your pretty clothes and toys. You´ll lose your servants. You will be used and, then, left broken. You don´t want to be broken, do you?"

Pansy shook her head.

"That´s a good girl. Remember this, Pansy. Now, I believe the Malfoys are here." A House Elf had appeared. "Why don´t you go and greet them? Your mother and I will be there in a second."

"Yes, Father." Pansy slid off the chair and walked gracefully out of the Sun Room. She hadn´t perfected gliding yet, though she was almost there. That had been the first time her father had talked to her about love.

Later that day, she had asked Draco, "Do you believe in love?"

His adorably childish face turned towards her with confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you believe that love exists?"

"Shouldn´t it?"

"Father told me that love is bad."

"I like love. Mummy loves me." That had ended the conversation.

During Yule Break of First Year, her family had gone to Malfoy Manor for Yule Dinner. She had, not for the first time, been awed by the sheer magnificence of the place. Sweeping marble staircases, gleaming crystal chandeliers, exquisite furniture, ornate plafonds, luxurious carvings and statues, everything in the place spoke of wealth and power.

Pansy had sat in Draco´s room, noting that the black dragon plushy that she had given to him when they were little was by his bed. She asked him again.

"Do you believe in love?"

Draco sneered.

"Love? Love is only for the weak. Love is the best way to exploit someone. Surely you don´t believe in it."

"Of course not. I, believe in love?"

Then, in Third year, she had started to realize that she had fallen in love with him. When he was attacked by the hippogriff, she had felt something inside her break. And Pansy had felt pain at his pain.

The arm had taken a long time to heal. The cut had damaged more flesh than it seemed, and it hurt more than Draco cared to admit. She had sat on his bed in the dorm, tenderly kneading and caressing the flesh, and the brunette had felt him twitch from the pain.

And she was hurt because he was hurt. Pansy had grown more and more attached to Draco from then on. He began to realize that she wasn´t just acting the dutiful fiancée after the Yule Ball in Fourth Year. They had had a relationship since Second Year, one that stemmed from their betrothal, but it had meant nothing. But when Pansy fell, it had started to become something, at least to her.

At the end of Fourth Year, Draco had talked to her.

"Pansy, what do you think of love?"

The brunette felt herself stiffen. She laughed disdainfully, though it didn´t sound quite as scornful as she had intended.

"Love? Love is the thing that will destroy anyone who tries to claim it."

"I´m glad that you feel that way. I have no heart. Love means nothing to me. You know that, don´t you?"

Pansy nodded.

That had been Draco´s warning to her--don´t fall in love with me because I´ll hurt you and destroy you. She had tried her best to stop, but Pansy hadn´t been able to stop the torrent of feelings that dragged her under.

In Fifth Year, after Pansy believed that everything would be alright, after that night, Draco broke her heart. He had told her that on behalf of their friendship, he was ending this. He was using her, and he would break her completely if he allowed this to continue. A broken heart was better than a broken spirit, he had said.

Their relationship had become too personal, and Draco made sure that it didn´t go beyond chaste kisses after that night. At the end of Sixth Year, he had told her that it was best if they didn´t marry. Their marriage was a business venture, and her love had tainted it. Their marriage could never be what it was meant to be again. Pansy had not argued.

This year, Draco had changed again. There had been some unease and discomfort at first, as both needed to reacquaint themselves with each other and their no longer existent betrothal. And Pansy believed that she liked the old Draco more. She had become used to him, his heart of ice. He had been easier to love, a perfect sculpture of coldness.

The new Draco was the little boy whom she had played with in days long past, at least in attitude. That Draco had been a naive but adorable boy, and Pansy liked yet didn´t like Draco like that. He was supposed to be unshatterable and cynical and sarcastic and biting and cold. The new Draco with his sweetness and goodness, he was missing something that the old Draco had. Something big and important and special, though Pansy couldn´t put her finger on what it was exactly.

The day was horribly bland. Again, only Ravenclaws attended lunch, and Pansy found herself staring at Turpin. Turpin, dressed in the sluttiest thing she could fine, a semi-transparent crop top, the tightest miniskirt Pansy had ever seen, the material barely covering half of her butt, fishnet stockings, and stilettos. Every day was a day to advertise, after all. Not that she needed to. Turpin had a giant reputation among the student body and the staff. The Ravenclaw was talking animatedly to the girls. No doubt bragging about another conquest.

The other girl caught Pansy´s eye, then stabbed viciously into her steak, smiling wickedly and nefariously the whole time. Pansy remained unfazed and stoic, determined to not let the Ravenclaw get the better of her. The grin never faltered, though Pansy could detect uncertainty beginning to fall upon the slut. Stupid bitch. Draco would never be either of theirs.

Dinner was quiet as the Slytherins recovered from their hangovers. There were complaints of headaches and stiffness and incoordination all around. Vince and Greg hadn´t drunk, but they had chosen to remain in bed. No need to spur doubt.

Pansy had been taught to never fall into a drunken stupor.

"A proper lady never becomes drunk."

"Why not, Mother?"

"It is unfitting for us. Such lewd things are for the commoners. No one will think the worse of them if they start acting deranged. But we have images to keep, Pansy. We must always act like proper ladies. Now, let´s try gliding again. You appear off-balance most of the time. I may ask Lady Malfoy to teach you. She had the most premium education of all of us, being born into this class, after all."

Pansy had been seven at the time. Then, when she was eight, her father talked to her.

"Do you know how the commoners drink themselves into raving lunatics?"

"Yes, Father."

"You must never do that. When you fall into such a stupor, you are more vulnerable than even during slumber."

"I thought sleeping was the most defenseless occasion of all."

"No. Drunkenness is even more dangerous. Not only do you not know what is happening, nor who your allies and foes are, but you also reveal your deepest secrets when coaxed."

"Why?" Pansy asked. How can some nasty-tasting liquid do this to people?

"That is the power of alcohol. You may drink a glass of wine at fetes and such, but that is all if you do not want to become inebriated. You are at your most susceptible when you are drunk. I know that you would not want to spill all your secrets. When you´re asleep, you can only be killed. But when you are intoxicated, then you betray yourself and others and leave yourself open to blackmail and public humiliation and shame. Such is beneath the name of Parkinson."

"Yes, Father."

Pansy would not want to reveal her love for Draco at any cost. It made her weak. Adults were right sometimes.

Her father and mother did not love each other, yet their marriage was successful. Both of them knew what was expected from them, and they had acted accordingly. They had given birth to two heirs that would continue the family tradition of neutrality.

Her father had been the one of the Dark. He had had trouble rearing Peter, who had married one of Narcissa´s sisters. There was a 30-year age difference between the two of them. Her parents had attended school with the Weasley in the Ministry and the Curtis that married him, before the days of Voldemort. Before Voldemort even existed as Tom Riddle.

Her father had joined Voldemort when he came into power, and it was there that he met Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, who had not even graduated from Hogwarts when he joined. Though he was a young man at the time, he was already notorious for being cold and hard and ruthless. When he was fourteen, he joined. And he knew more powerful spells than her father. He had been the best recruit and the one most likely to become second only to the Dark Lord himself. He accomplished that.

Her father had known that a marriage between the two families would be most beneficial. The Malfoys would be a good ally to have, and they were also prestigious enough for a Parkinson. Lucius had seen the same things and had agreed.

All that work had accomplished nothing, not since the previous year. Quite a hefty dowry had been prepared by her parents. Pansy had heard that Narcissa had married without any kind of dowry. No doubt hers was compensation. But why would the Malfoys agree to a marriage if there was no dowry in it? The brunette had heard that there had been a scandal behind the marriage, though her parents had refused to tell her when she asked, saying that they were not going to gossip about a family that they were allies with. Only Wizards Narcissa´s generation or older knew the exact details. The younger generations knew only that there was a scandal, though what kind was anyone´s guess.

Pansy could ask Draco, that is, if they were talking. But even if they were, she doubted that he would tell her about a scandal that involved his parents. The brunette could ask Vince and Greg, if she could ever catch them alone, which was hardly ever as they were always around Draco.

The next day at breakfast, Draco received an owl. It was a school owl, a big gruff barn owl. Pansy wondered whether it was from Potter or not. Draco removed the parchment from the owl and unrolled the scrap of parchment. Liquidsilver eyes scanned the parchment, and Pansy could feel him stiffen, though she couldn´t see it.

Pansy leaned over Draco´s arm, which was still holding the parchment, and speed-read the words.

Draco Malfoy, I know of your secret relationship with one Seventh year Gryffindor. If you know what´s good for the both of you, then you will meet me tonight at midnight at where you met him on Saturday. Come alone. Bring no one with you.

This was not good. Someone else had discovered Draco´s relationship with Potter? No wonder Draco had stiffened.

Pansy watched as mercury eyes scanned the Great Hall. No one responded in any way, twitching, looking around nervously, there was no guilty motions at all.

She would be following Draco tonight, of course. After all, she had to see who it was that would dare blackmail the xanthochroid. And Pansy had a suspicious feeling that it would be a Ravenclaw. A Seventh Year female Ravenclaw.

* * * * *

At 11:45, Draco sneaked out of the Slytherin dorms without any type of cover. Before he had received his two Cloaks, he had walked around school after curfew, melding with the shadows. Pansy followed her love closely, walking just as soft on the stones. Both made no sound as they twisted and turned within the Castle.

The torches flickered and lit only the immediate vicinity around them. Some had gone out, leaving stretches of hallways with patches of darkness. The burning ones resembled little balls of fire from far off. Disfigured and contorted shadows crept from the darkness, and Draco and Pansy were just two more shadows in the blackness.

Draco stopped in a hallway that was hardly ever used. Pansy believed that she had only been in this hallway once before in her seven years at Hogwarts. A good spot for them to meet, Pansy mused. There were only two torches lit in the entire corridor.

Draco stepped into the light, announcing his arrival. From the darkness on the opposite side, an excrescence emerged, slowly shaping into a figure. A feminine figure.

She was looking as slutty as usual, and she was proud of it. A black dressing gown was over her, the two sides open to reveal what she wore underneath. She wore only her lingerie beneath the thin robe, all semi-transparent and lacy. Heavy makeup covered her face. Her eyes were outlined in the darkest black in several layers, and glittery blue eye shadow was over her eyelids and the skin above them. She had outlined her lips in fuschia, and gloss had been smeared over her fuschia lips. Like a porn star. She had used blue mascara, and her eyelashes were barely distinguishable. It could only be one person--Turpin.

"Draco, there´s nothing to be afraid of," Turpin said, voice dripping with honey.

Draco made no reply.

"Come now, Draco. Lighten up. It´s only me. Here, I´ll make you a deal."

Draco was still silent.

"If you break up with Potter and go out with me, then I´ll keep your secret. But if you don´t, the whole school will know by Wednesday. I´m so nice that I´m giving you time to think about this."

Whatever.

"I expect to see you here tomorrow at the same time, alone. Do not tell anyone about this, or I won´t be held responsible for what happens."

Turpin stepped forward and cupped Draco´s cheek, then leaned forward and prepared to plant a kiss on the blonde´s other cheek.

Draco spoke in an icy voice so cold that it could have frozen the stone walls and caused icicles to form on them.

"Remove your hand, Turpin."

The hand fell away, and Pansy could see eyes flashing in anger before they turned calm. Turpin smiled.

"If you so wish, Draco. I will be waiting for you tomorrow." The whore blew a kiss at Draco, then receded back into the shadows.

Pansy left Draco to fend for himself and made her way back towards the dungeons. She became lost several times but managed to arrive in the Slytherin common room before Draco. Pansy headed to her dorm.

Her dorm-mates were asleep, Millicent snoring softly. Good. Pansy needed to ponder the best course of action. Something would have to be done about Turpin. Draco would never break up with Potter. He loved the bloody Gryffindor too much.

She herself could not do anything. It would be too easy to trace it back to her. Vince and Greg would definitely refuse. Potter would, but it would be a cold day in hell before she would seek Potter´s help. However, Pansy knew of someone who would be willing to risk almost anything to protect Draco.

Pansy lighted a candle, took out a sheet of parchment, a falcon feather quill, and a bottle of black ink. The quill danced across the parchment soundlessly, leaving a trail of loops and curls in its path.

Lady Malfoy,

I apologize for disturbing you. However, I am in need of your assistance once more and most imperatively. `Tis not for me but for your son. Draco has encountered a misfortune. We are both aware of his current relationship and its discreet nature. I have discovered that another has received knowledge of this perilous matter. A slattern, Lisa Turpin, Seventh Year Ravenclaw, has offered a compromise. She has requested that Draco break his engagement with the unmentioned above and allow her to share his bed, or she shall be forced to reveal the details of his association with the unreferred to previously. I solicit you to permanently cripple the harlot and relieve Draco of this most unfortunate ordeal. I await your reply. Please respond when you receive this urgent letter.

Miss Pansy Parkinson

Pansy quickly retrieved an envelope out of a drawer, folded the letter into precise thirds, sealed the letter with a pointing of her wand and a few muttered words, and slipped the letter into the envelope. The brunette wrote "Lady Malfoy" on the front of the envelope and the word "important" in capital letters under the first line of words. She then turned the envelope over and slid open another drawer, taking out a small box of wax that always remained scalding, due to a charm. The Slytherin carefully poured a tiny bit of the royal green wax onto the envelope, sealing it. Pansy then slipped off her signet ring and pressed it into the wax, which was starting to cool. The crest, a moon with an arrow shooting across it upwards, appeared onto the wax, none of it staining the silver ring, due to another charm. The moon stood for the Parkinson name and everything that came with it, the arrow signifying that the Parkinsons steadily rose through society, always gaining more wealth, power, and prestige.

Pansy slipped out of her dorm and the common room again, heading to the Owlery. The brunette navigated through the maze of dark, dimly-lit, and well-lit corridors. She was about to step into a corridor that was dimly-lit before she quickly retreated into the safety of the dark corner. The Slytherin peered from behind the stones.

Kyon and Lupin were talking as if they had been childhood friends. Pansy knew that Lupin only had three true friends--James Potter, currently rotting in the earth; Sirius Black, who-knows-where; and Peter Pettigrew, servant to the Dark Lord.

"You need to talk to Harry, Siri. He´s been out of it more than usual. I worry for his health."

"You think I haven´t noticed, Remy?! I´ve noticed, too, but I´ve never been able to find time to talk to him."

"He needs you, Siri. Go talk to him. You´re the only family that he has left."

"I will, Remy, I will. It´s my duty as Godfather. Don´t you trust me?"

"Of course I do. You´re the only other Marauder left, Siri."

So Kyon was Sirius Black. No doubt the work of Dumbledore. If only she could turn him in. It would be good for her family, more prestige and fame than ever. But he was Potter´s only remaining family, and Draco would be absolutely furious if she did. He probably knew, too. Pansy catalogued the information in her brain for later use, just in case Potter and Draco broke up.

Kyon stepped forward and placed his lips onto Lupin´s. Pansy arched an eyebrow. So two of the Marauders weren´t just friends.

However, Lupin roughly pushed Kyon away and wiped his mouth on his shabby sleeve. Kyon had a hurt expression on his face.

"Do you never listen to me, Siri? I´ve said so before. No. I can´t love you. I can´t even give you a chance. I´m sorry."

"Don´t you see that I did everything for you? I love you, Remy. Why can´t you let go of the past and him?"

"You claim to love me, but if you really love me, then you wouldn´t have done what you did. You sent him out, intending to have me kill him so that you can have me. But James just had to intervene, didn´t he? So instead of him being killed by his lover, he survived, but not after he saw me. The effect was almost as good as what you had intended. He didn´t dump me because I am a werewolf. He left me because I lied to him, because I wasn´t sure how he would react, because I wasn´t ready to tell him the truth. All thanks to you, Siri. If you really love me, then you wouldn´t have hurt me like that. Do you know how much that hurt, knowing that the reason your lover dumped you was because your best friend betrayed you because he was jealous? And then, in Third Year, he found me with you. And because of what happened back then, he refused to listen to my explanation because he thought that I had lied to him again. He objected to me being on the staff because of that. I thought that maybe we could have mended our relationship, but that night with you, it only served to justify his feelings about me even more, how I was a liar and never trusted him. It was all because of you, Siri. You are happy now, aren´t you, now that he´s dead?" Lupin finished bitterly.

"Remy, you know that I´m possessive. You can´t blame me for trying to protect what is mine."

"I was, am, and will never be yours, Siri. Remember that. My heart still belongs to him, even after all these years. Even though he no longer belongs to me. Even though he no longer loves me."

"What does he have that I don´t?" Kyon growled.

"He truly did love me. You have never truly loved me, Siri. Because if you had, you would´ve learned to let me go." Saying this, Lupin walked away from Kyon, away from Pansy.

Kyon headed her way, and Pansy pressed herself against the wall, then slid down so that she was crouching in a small ball. Kyon´s fingers touched where her head would´ve been if she had not crouched down. His profanity about a slimy-haired greasy git was so obscene that he would´ve earned enough Stupefys to knock him out for a week had he been in the company of polite society. Crass plebian. He should have been like her, giving up his love for his love´s happiness.

Pansy encountered no more obstacles in her path to the Owlery. When she arrived, she found owls swooping around the place, their great eyes gleaming in the dark. Pansy looked around and saw her kite sleeping next to Draco´s eagle owl, which was wide-awake and looking at his friend.

The prestigious families usually used the more nobler accipitres and/or falconiformes instead of owls. Owls were for the regular people, ones who couldn´t afford or need such elegant birds.

Her family had a huge place to keep the birds, kites, hawks, tiercels, and falcons. Just not eagles, which were the specialties of the Malfoys, huge birds with large, spanning wings. Their birds were all neatly groomed and taken care of, the feathers in top condition.

There had been a fight between Great-Aunt Eglantine´s dog and one of the birds. Great-Aunt Eglantine kept no owls but, instead, chose to hand-deliver her messages. She was the eccentric of the family. Once, she had taken her darling dog, Celerity, which was the exact opposite of the dog, along with her. The terrier was extremely fat and bad-tempered, adorned with folderols that must have cost millions, which slowed down his pace even more. The mongrel had somehow made his way into the Owlery, and he had been found clenching a tiercel´s wing between his teeth, the poor bird trying to peck him in the eye, which Celerity kept closing. Great-Aunt Eglantine had thrown a fit and had pried Celerity´s jaw apart, freeing the tiercel, which now had one limp and drool-covered wing and could not fly, at least not right then. She had picked up the extremely corpulent dog and had told them that she would not visit again until the birds had been taught manners. The tiercel had been one of their best birds, and it took him five weeks to recover. Pansy´s father had gladly ignored Great-Aunt Eglantine´s threat since Celerity would no longer be injuring their best birds.

Pansy gently awoke her kite, Etzel. These noble birds were naturally diurnal, but due to the best breeding, they could also work at night. These birds were of the best pedigree and much more refined than owls.

Etzel stretched out his leg and allowed Pansy to tie the letter, then took off, the owls making way for him. Writing letters were so complicated. As they were members of the highest class in society, along with the Moores, Malfoys, and once, the Weasleys, the most prestigious families, letter-writing had to be done in a specific way, along with many other things. The content of the letter had to be lexiphanic, with the fanciest words possible. Then, there was the formalness and the seals. It was so much easier to talk like commoners her own age, but she could not be so undignified. Pansy was a Parkinson, after all. Besides, Narcissa would be expecting her to write right. After all, the woman had been a Moore and was currently a Malfoy. Smart of her to stay in her social class.

The next day, at breakfast, a large eagle with light brown and white feathers flew into the Great Hall, landing regally before her. Draco, thank Mordred, had not recognized the eagle. The family did have a large stock of birds. Of course, it might also have been due to the fact that he was staring at Potter.

The eagle lifted its leg up, talons curling into a lethal grip. Pansy slipped the reply off. As soon as Pansy relieved it of its burden, the eagle took flight, wings almost knocking down Vince´s goblet of pumpkin juice when it spread them.

"Miss Parkinson" was written in a flourishing script on the envelope. Pansy turned the envelope over. A sanguine wax seal covered the edge of the top flap. A mass of swirling lines covered the wax, faint iron chains binding a vaguely outlined heart underneath the lines. The chaos would trap anyone who dared to enter it.

Pansy eased the envelope open, cleaving the wax in two. She took out the enclosed letter and, sliding the handle of her spoon between the seal and pulling outwards, cracked the seal. The Slytherin opened the letter.

Miss Parkinson,

I responded immediately after receiving your correspondence. I have sent my reply with Aiolos, the eagle with the greatest celerity on the estate. I did not deliberate the verity of your statement. The promiscuous woman you speak of shall be neutralized. Confirm that she is not a pander. I will arrange the details. You are not concerned. Destroy any evidence that could incriminate. Your accipitre awaits your retrieval. Its burden has been incinerated. I suggest you do the same. Do not hasten and arouse suspicion. The remainder depends on your cooperation. Good day.

Lady Narcissa Malfoy

This was serious. Narcissa´s words had been curt, meaning that this was an exigency of the utmost confidentiality. Pansy noticed Vince and Greg looking at her. They would ask her later. She would debate what to tell them when this tribulation ended.

Pansy slid the letter back into the envelope, then stood up. Breakfast was ending at this time, so no one paid the brunette any heed. She stood on the bench and held a corner of the letter up to one of the floating candles. The flame licked at the edge of the paper, and a ring of black and a ring of brown quickly climbed up the parchment. The fire engulfed the letter, and when Pansy stepped off the bench, a ring of ashes lay on the wood. Pansy brushed the black grains off, then slid the strap of her book bag onto her shoulder and waited for Draco to finish.

Pansy grew increasingly uneasy as the day passed. It seemed as if Narcissa hadn´t done anything yet. Dinner came, and Turpin was still alive and well. Pansy knew that she was going to watch Turpin and Draco again tonight. If Narcissa failed...She would take the assignment of terminating Turpin onto herself, like so many other tasks.

Pansy made her way to the corridor after dinner and waited for Turpin and Draco to meet. She gripped her wand tightly and mentally recited all the charms she learned from that book in Second Year.

There was a nice charm that she could use to give Turpin permanent amnesia. However, the spell was very temperamental, and if she performed it in this emotional state, Turpin´s brain would be destroyed. Not that it was a bad thing, but she was not going to commit murder. The Ministry would investigate such a murder. Asinine morons.

Whatever she used, Pansy knew that she would have to perform a Cleansing Spell on her wand, a very complicated and time-consuming ritual. Easter Break would be the only time that she could, and it was coming soon, thank Mordred.

I´ll have to borrow Vince and Greg´s place.

Pansy was halfway through her recital when she felt another presence. No doubt Turpin. The Slytherin tensed and clutched her wand in a death grip.

Moments later, Draco arrived, half stepping into the weak light. Turpin stepped forward completely.

"What´s your decision, Draco?"

"No."

"Then you´ll have to face the consequences. You´ll regret your choice, Draco."

Saying this, Turpin prepared to leave. Pansy quickly drew her wand and stated muttering the first charm she could think of, one that would render Turpin´s muscles useless. The brunette saw two more wands pointed at the Ravenclaw.

However, before any of them finished chanting, Turpin fell over on her back, clutching at her throat. Her hands soon fell lip, and the eyes closed. Draco walked over to her prone form cautiously, then held a finger in front of her nostrils.

"She still lives," he said to an invisible figure behind him, no doubt Potter.

So Narcissa did carry through. She shouldn´t have doubted the woman, not when it concerned Draco. Pansy began to laugh maniacally.

She saw Draco looking around frantically, trying to determine the source of the echoing sound. He turned his head and looked in her direction.

"Pansy?"

In response, Pansy stepped out from the shadows, the pale light casting dark shadows upon her face, making it look gruesome.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Draco.

Pansy continued her crazed laugh, which was bouncing around the empty castle, no doubt alerting Filch to their location.

Draco looked a bit uneasy.

"Look, Pansy, I know we haven´t been on the best of terms lately--"

All of a sudden, the brunette started crying, though she was still laughing madly. This surprised Pansy herself. There hadn´t been tears for a very long time. Her knees hit the hard stone floor with a thump, and Pansy knew that there would be bruises later from the asperity of the stones. Draco walked slowly towards her.

The crystal tears made tiny splashes on the stone floor, and they seeped through the cracks in the gray granite. Draco dropped to his knees beside her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Pansy..." he began.

And, suddenly, Pansy knew what this Draco was missing. The old Draco would have told her to stand up and stop disgracing herself, then drag her roughly away from the place. And though he would be cold and harsh, the old Draco cared about her and only her. The new Draco cared about Potter and solely him. And she´d rather Draco be cruel with her, because it was his way of showing concern. Warmness didn´t suit him. He was supposed to be cold and unforgiving, not so weak.

The tears stopped as abruptly as they started, though Pansy had been laughing insanely the whole time. Unexpectedly, the laughter stopped, leaving a hollow ringing in their ears.

"I forgive you," she said, then stood up, Draco rising with her. Pansy turned away swiftly, the impetus throwing pale hands off of her robes. The brunette then walked away, towards the safety of the common room.

And years later, Draco would reflect that Pansy´s eyes never completely lost their deadened look.

And years later, Pansy would dream about a cold, handsome, and perfect blonde boy with cruel gray eyes, a malicious smirk, and a heart of ice that cared about her in his own icy way while she lay besides her husband.