A Soul to Keep

CHAPTER FOUR

Save You All

"Up!" Blaise shouted from inside the dancing tree. It could only have been moments since Matilda had drifted off, and she was absolutely not willing to do anything involving or related to up.

"It's time for breakfast!"

Her eyelids defied her as they peeled themselves back and allowed the burning, white light of early morning to pierce through her retinas. Tears quickly welled up and spilled, hot and shocking, down her cheeks. Her skull seemed to crack, which was probably caused exclusively by her brain, which was fiercely beating its way to freedom. Every square inch of her body ached and she blamed Draco.

The night before, Seamus' whistle had ushered all of them back into reality at the Three Broomsticks and all eyes had immediately fallen on her cousin. His hand was wrapped tightly around his wand, the knuckles quickly turning white as he squeezed with every ounce of strength he possessed. His face was a deathly pale - more so than usual - and he was staring fixedly at the vacant space that Pansy had left behind.

"Firewhiskey!" he demanded without so much as a blink, and a bottle was thrust toward him through the crowd. He dived headfirst into his liquor, and pulled Matilda along with him.

But really, binge drinking was entirely acceptable behaviour in that situation. She was being supportive. She was upset for him. Malfoy solidarity and all that; and she was sure that Draco would have done the same had it been her on the dangerous end of Pansy's wand.

Pansy.

She carefully sat up, waited for the world to stop spinning, and hobbled across the room like a geriatric with an inner ear disorder. Behind Pansy's green bed curtains, there was an empty, perfectly made green bed. There was no way that she could have come home last night and then have managed to leave already. That would have given her less than three hours of sleep.

Mother of God. That gave Matilda less than three hours of sleep.

"Matty!" Blaise shouted, still standing out in the hallway. "Hide your shame, babe, I'm coming in!" The door opened slowly and he poked his head in, giving her a concerned look.

"She's not here," Matilda said dumbly. Good Lord, was that her breath?

"I can see that. Breakfast. Then you can go back to bed."

Good plan. No, no, wait: bad plan. Matilda was tired now. Sleep was imperative. She must slumber.

"Why can't I just go back to bed now?" she whined. She shook her head, mostly at herself for sounding so pathetic, and set the world spinning madly out of control again. Her stomach sloshed and churned violently as the Ferris wheel of her room began to slow, and decided that she definitely did not want food of any sort anywhere in her vicinity.

"Don't be stupid, Matty," Blaise chastised blithely, "Everyone is going to want to talk to the roommate of Slytherin's newest lunatic." He walked over to her and put an arm around her shoulder. "And Snape slips a hangover potion into the pumpkin juice on the weekends."

The Great Hall was a wonderful place full of happy faces and plates heaped high with steaming food. The morning sky above them was a tranquil blanket of soft, grey clouds and Matilda hated everyone in the room that did not feel as if their cranium was in labour.

Draco was already there along with the rest of the House. He was smiling and laughing and putting on a fabulous show as he emptied a tall glass of pumpkin juice and reached for the jug. Matilda slumped down beside him and grabbed it from his outstretched hand, ignoring the look of horror on his face when she neglected to bother with a glass and drank deeply.

"She didn't come back to the room last night," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She set the jug down and kept her other hand wrapped protectively around the handle. She was already beginning to feel a bit better.

Draco started ever so slightly and blinked. "Well good morning to you too, Matty," he began. "It's nice to see you as well. Oh yes, I'm feeling fine, thank you. Indeed, it is a lovely day. No, I don't care much for muffins, thanks."

She raised an eyebrow at the complete ass sitting next to her. She was still feeling far too ill to attempt lifting both, let alone actually carrying on any sort of witty exchange. However, she had always felt that a well-timed eyebrow lift was often the perfect response to unwarranted sarcasm.

"She probably went home," he added. His smile faltered only slightly as he spoke and he began moving the scrambled eggs around on their platter with his fork. "They're good today," he added cheerfully, poking at the food and shovelling a mound onto her plate.

Blaise looked alarmed as he watched Draco's oddly benign behaviour. "Uh," he said hesitantly. "Mail's here."

Draco nodded and placed three pieces of buttered toast on his cousin's plate and poured her a cup of coffee.

Packages, envelopes, and newspapers began falling onto the laps and plates of students all around them and Matilda leaned forward over the table to discover that Goyle's package was addresses to Gregory. He tore into it and pulled out handfuls of sweets, opening several of them and placing them neatly on his breakfast plate.

A few unsettling thoughts concerning owl droppings and their frequency within the Hall popped randomly into Matilda's aching mind and she warily watched the remaining owls in her area until they passed the table by.

"Why does it always land in my food?" Draco whined, motioning to an envelope standing straight up in his porridge. "I'm going to have to complain to mother about the senility of our owl - he's ancient, you know. You can't tell by the looks of him, of course. We wouldn't keep him if he was less than stunning, he wouldn't fit in with the family otherwise."

"Uh huh," Blaise agreed vaguely, eyeing Draco's letter. "Who's it from?"

Draco shrugged, "Doesn't say." He peeled the wax seal apart and pulled a small piece of parchment out. His grin instantly fell from his face as he blanched and adopted a hybrid look of anger and confusion.

"What is it?" Matilda asked.

"I have no idea," he told her, casually handing over the sheet.

"Stay away from Potter" was scrawled impeccably in black ink across the centre of the page. There was no signature; there was no seal, the small piece of parchment revealed nothing but whatever one could make of the four enigmatic words. Luckily, being his niece, Matilda could recognise Lucius' distinct script immediately. Obviously this was not a man of subtlety.

Blaise read over her shoulder and made a small impressed noise. "Looks like Potter got one too," he remarked, pointing at the Gryffindor table.

Across the room, Ron was smacking an infuriated Harry's hand away as he read another small piece of parchment. Harry managed to snatch it out of his friend's grasp before Ron had a chance to read it out loud to the entire table, and he held it tightly in his fist as he stabbed moodily at his breakfast.

A light dawned.

"She knows where he is, Draco!" Matilda half whispered. "No one else could have told him. Pansy's the only one that left!"

He made a disgusted face at her. "Don't be ridiculous," he chided and grabbed the letter from her hand, tucking it into his robes. He stood up and quickly stalked from the Hall.

Blaise didn't bother to hide his smile when he and Matilda jumped up to follow Harry as he hastened after Draco.

With utmost stealth and dignity, the pair of them scampered from pillar to pillar, trailing the two boys as they stormed through the halls. Draco deftly wove through a crowd of frightened looking first year Ravenclaws as they clutched tightly to their books and shot him tentative glares. He appeared to be headed back to the Slytherin common room, and Harry was soon mere feet behind him, huffing and red in the face.

"Malfoy!" he bellowed once they had entered a deserted corridor, waving the mysterious letter in the air.

At their sudden stop, Blaise and Matilda dived into an intersecting corridor and peered around the corner. From where they were standing, Harry's flaming ear and cheek were perfectly visible along with the shivers that were coursing through his legs and arms. Draco's face was slightly pink, either from the chase or from an actual emotion. As far as Matilda was concerned, the former seemed more likely.

"I'm a little preoccupied at the moment, Potter," Draco told him, pivoting and crossing his arms pretentiously. "And while I'm sure that you are in dire need of it, I'll have to autograph that for you at a later date."

Harry seemed unfazed. "Do you know what this is?"

"I'm praying it's not a love letter. I mean, I'm flattered, but, honestly, I have a reputation to maintain."

Harry let his arm fall to his side and exhaled shakily. "Can you at least try to act like a human for the duration of one conversation?"

"Well, I have been dying for a good tête-à-tête with you lately, and,"

"Draco!" Harry suddenly shouted.

There was a pause.

Eventually, Draco's head twitched in a way that Harry seemed to interpret as an affirmative nod. His entire frame was rigid as he moved closer to the Slytherin.

"What is this?" Harry asked slowly, raising the parchment again. His fist was shaking. His face was still red. He looked as if he was ready to kill.

Draco glanced at the letter and quickly away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"'Stay away from Draco'?"

The slight pink deepened to mirror Harry's when Draco's head shot up and he grabbed the letter like a spoiled child. He crumpled it and placed it carefully in his pocket.

"Just some jealous Hufflepuff," he reasoned hastily.

"Who writes with perfect calligraphy?"

"Anything's possible, Potter."

Blaise actually cackled, the complete idiot, and smacked his hand over his mouth. Each of the other boys jumped and then froze, still watching the other intently. As one, they took a step back and then turned to walk in opposite directions.

Fuck.

Matilda pressed firmly against the wall and willed herself to sink into the stone as Harry marched past them. He held those ridiculous glasses of his in one hand as he used the other to rub his eyes violently. He didn't even bother to look for the eavesdropper, which, while being an especially unwise thing to do, was extraordinarily lucky for her, as she had never successfully Obliviated anyone. Once he had passed, Blaise appeared from behind a suit of armour further down the corridor and smiled bashfully.

"You have the heart of a lion, my friend," she told him with a laugh.

He shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea. Draco wouldn't murder a family member, but it's open season on nosy Housemates."

Matilda nodded absently and crept out into the hall to peer after her cousin. He turned right and she could hear his light footsteps echoing softly in the stone stairwell. "Should we follow him?" she wondered aloud.

"Not unless you really want to feel what Cruciatus can do to you." Blaise moved past her and tugged at her sleeve. "I mean, I wouldn't put it past - "

"I know, Blaise."

The Great Hall, in their absence, had transformed into an ocean of students, waves of them crashing into the upper-years and breaking apart as they moved around them and toward the door. The strange little Gryffindor with the camera was clutching it tightly to his chest as several tiny second years surged around him.

The room was clearing out fast, but from where Matilda stood, she could see that a few key Gryffindors had remained. Blaise gave her an interested look and positioned himself strategically at the Slytherin table as she strolled across the room.

"Hello all," she said and sat down beside Hermione.

The Gryffindor girl jumped slightly and gripped the table as if Matilda was about to employ it as some sort of illogical weapon of mass destruction. Seamus and Dean Thomas moved closer together and eyed her like prey does a predator, while the youngest Weasley simply looked bewildered. Harry stared steadily at the glass of juice in front of him as Ron's agitation threatened to boil over.

"What do you want?" the redhead asked brusquely.

"Harry," said Matilda, ignoring Ron and his abrasive manner, "did you find out if we failed that Herbology assignment?"

Like she really cared.

"She's not issuing a mark," he mumbled.

"Bullshit," barked Ron.

"Really now, Ronny," Matilda replied calmly. "I doubt your friend here would lie about something that trivial."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Well, no, Ron. And I'm beginning to fear that this may become a regular occurrence..."

He was a testy, testy boy and looked as if he was fighting every instinct he had to simply remain in his seat. He appeared to run through several statements before settling on his next, somewhat disjointed and wholly ineffective remark.

"You're not the most cunning of the Slytherins are you?"

While that was an utterly silly thing to say, it took Matilda aback for a moment. Of course she was. "Of course I am. And I'm not here for any covert reason whatsoever."

"Liar," Hermione observed severely.

"Usually, and with a brilliant, shining talent, but not this time. I was simply going to - "

"It said, 'Stay away from Draco'," Harry interrupted, suddenly watching the invading Slytherin intently. There was fire in his eyes behind those nerdy glasses and he looked ready to explode again.

Matilda nodded. She knew exactly what the letter had said, but she wasn't about to tell that to The Boy Who Lived in a Constant State of Emotional Turmoil. She had far too much of a desire to remain among the living. Instead she asked, "Can I see it?"

"No," he replied, eyes still blazing and fixed squarely on her, "Your cousin took it. Please leave."

"I intend to," she said as she slid from her seat. "By the way," she added, somewhat crossly for being instructed to depart so early into the conversation, "the handwriting's Lucius'."

Matilda glided away from their dropped jaws and Ron's sudden stream of expletives and joined Blaise, who was presently awarding her an animated round of applause at the door. She smiled her thanks and continued walking right past him. She wanted to speak to her cousin.

The corridors were as flooded as the Great Hall had been moments ago, as torrents of students burst from the double doors as if through a broken dam. Matilda failed to notice the crowds as she split through them, leaving a trail of disoriented children in her wake. Her mind was entirely elsewhere, and anyone that had ended up sprawled on the floor due to her haste was obviously too thick to be permitted to negotiate the corridors without a proper chaperone, anyway.

She did not appreciate being so out of the loop when there was something so fabulously dramatic going on around her, and she was enormously irked. She was certain that it had been Pansy that had tipped Lucius off as to the events of the previous night, although she had no idea why and had yet to convince anyone of her brilliant deduction.

Blaise had taken no time at all to catch up to her, following the path of disoriented children lying on the floor and knocking a few more down along the way. He was currently eyeing her as if she had completely lost her mind and thought it a thoroughly amusing alteration.

"Am I witnessing the formation of a plot?" he asked, raising an impressed eyebrow.

Well, no. No, he wasn't, but Matilda was intent on appearing as though she had great plans for sifting the necessary information out of Draco. She was tired; she hadn't finished her coffee at breakfast, she was frustrated and still a little hung over. She was not in the proper mindset for crafty devices and underhanded tactics. As far as her scheming had taken her, the game plan was to tackle her cousin to the common room floor and wrestle the letters away from the skinny little bastard. She was then going to hold them hostage until he agreed to listen to her. Following that, perhaps, lunch.

She was rescued from having to answer by Robin Zabini as she flew up the stone stairwell and crashed into her brother.

"Pansy," she said, huffing as if she had just completed a marathon.

"Didn't come home last night, yes," Matilda said impatiently, helping the tiny girl to stand on her own.

She nodded enthusiastically and continued. "Back now... and Draco. In the common room!" She took off at a run again, heading toward Slytherin house.

Under normal circumstances, Matilda rarely ran. She found it to be an undignified, graceless, and unbecoming method of travel. She was all of those things as she shoved Blaise out of the way and hurried after his sister at top speed. She nearly died on the stairs, forcing herself to keep one hand scraping against the rough stone of the wall to maintain balance, and she soon reached the blank face of their door.

Robin was panting like an asthmatic as she shook her head. Matilda took this as a sign that she was not planning to set foot in there. "Everyone already hid," Robin finally managed to wheeze, "or left."

That made sense, Matilda thought. An angry Draco is a homicidal Draco.

She whispered the password and Blaise followed her in. Robin's heavy footsteps echoed noisily as she raced back up the stairs.

There was no motion in the almost completely deserted common room. Pansy was standing in front of the fireplace, looking rattled and exhausted. Her thin face was drained of colour and there were deep, purple shadows under her wide, feral eyes. Her robes were dusty and there was mud flaking off of her left arm. She cradled the other protectively, although she still clutched at her wand with a shaking, scratched hand. Wherever she had gone last night, it appeared to have been the wrong choice. She didn't seem to have noticed that anyone else had entered the room.

"Everyone knows!" she howled at Draco, who was standing firm and proud behind a very tall armchair. "Everyone can see it!" She pulled her arms in closer to her chest and took a step away from the fire.

Draco gripped the chair in front of him, his only protection from the raving girl that was gradually advancing on him. "Can see what?" he asked, doing an awful job of masking the hysteria in his voice. "What are you saying? You've gone mad!"

Pansy squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "You're putting yourself in danger and you don't even know it!" she shouted.

"In danger from who? Look at me, Pansy!"

She paused for a moment, taking several shallow and tremulous breaths. It was like she was fighting to remain whole and solid, like her body was about to split apart at the joints and smash on the stone floor as her trembling worsened. When her eyes finally cracked open, she seemed to calm ever so slightly. She gripped even harder at her arm and managed a single deep, steady breath. "You know who," she whispered.

It was like the girl was plucking random sentences from mid air and flinging them at Draco in a desperate attempt to make him see her reasoning. Had Matilda not been terrified for her personal safety at the moment, she would have thought this was something out of a bad novel.

"Not... You're just overtired," Draco reasoned. "You need to rest, you've not been well."

"I could..." Pansy whispered, uncrossing her arms and stretching her wand out in front of her. "Save you," she added, pointing it directly at the shaking boy behind the armchair.

"Pansy, what are you doing!" Blaise shouted, shattering the moment and drawing her attention to the pair in the doorway.

She seemed to crumble as she took him in; her breath coming in gasps as an avalanche of tears tumbled down her cheeks. She lifted her left hand to her face and rubbed at her eyes, wand still pointed at Draco. "I could save you all..." she whispered.

With this she stumbled forward and around the armchair, right arm dangling lifelessly at her side as she staggered down the hall to her room.

***

It was in the last week of August following her sixth year that Pansy next spoke personally with Lord Voldemort.

Lucius had set up house quite comfortably and had recently begun sleeping in Pamela's bed. Pansy couldn't articulate the hatred she felt for that man as he sat at the dinner table each evening, eating her father's food and wearing her father's clothes, while Patrick Parkinson slowly eroded in Azkaban, alone and in darkness.

It was during that meal once again that The Dark Lord made an appearance.

He apparated in the doorway with a loud snap, sending house elves scurrying for the safety of the kitchen and crawl spaces, and strode gracefully into the room. Lucius and Pamela stood up instinctively, bowing their heads in a silent display of obedience.

Pansy didn't move. She didn't need too: he was still inside of her, sensing her fear and the paralysing respect of his power that froze her limbs and gripped at her heart like an icy fist.

"Hello, Pansy," he had said, ignoring the cowering adults and taking Lucius' seat. Patrick's seat. "You've done very well," he told her in his hideous, airy voice. "You have proven yourself."

He produced his wand and once more she felt the familiar sensation of her heart slamming painfully against her rib cage. It faltered again and again until reaching complete stillness and she fought to keep breathing.

He laughed humourlessly at this and folded the collar of her robes down, chilling the bruised and banded flesh of her neck with his icy fingers. "I have another gift," he whispered to her and pointed his wand at the silver snake.

A profound sensation of release and warmth swept through Pansy's body as she felt the serpent come alive once again, slithering smoothly off of her throat. It danced before her for a brief moment, coiling into a tight ring and then stretching out again, undulating in mid-air and descending quickly until it finally reached her open palm. She stared at the cold emerald eyes, the eyes that had tormented her for seven months from beneath her robes, as the silver body solidified into a familiar band shape. She reached up and ran a finger along the thin dent it had created in her flesh before gripping the metal yet again with both hands. She feared that it might come alive at any moment and wrap tightly as ever around her, ensnaring her, placing her back into its keeping. When it remained solid and immobile in her hands, she felt she could have cried for joy.

She could see the Dark Lord let his wand fall from the corner of her eye, but all of her attention was focused on the snake as she ran her fingers along the intricate detail of the scales. This tiny thing had held her prisoner for over seven months. This tiny thing.

"Tiny thing," the Dark Lord repeated her thoughts quietly, resting the tip of his wand on her forearm. "Morsmordre."

Pansy didn't have time to register what he had just said to her when her blood began to boil and then turned to ice water just as quickly. Every atom in her body crystallised and then shattered, leaving her writhing and numb to all sensation but the intense cold that seemed to be pouring from the wand, concentrating itself at its tip as he pressed it deeply into her arm.

She heard her own scream of agony and terror as if from far away, echoing in her empty mind as she struggled vainly to pull her arm away from his wand. After what felt like days of fire and frost, she crumpled into a shaking heap on the floor.

In a moment, Lucius stooped to pick her up and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. An audible crack came from the dining room, soon followed by the familiar sound of Pamela sobbing yet again.

"Welcome," her new father whispered as he placed her onto her bed, throwing three extra blankets over her shivering figure. He paused in the doorway as he left, leaning peacefully against the frame and facing out into the hallway. Soon, he turned to her and added, "Keep an eye on my niece next week," before locking the door behind him.