Title: In Love and War

Parings: Antonin Dolohov/Pansy Parkinson (mostly UST), Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Antonin Dolohov/Bellatrix Lestrange (brief), mentions/cameos of a few others

Summery. PG-13. Set during the Second War. Pansy Parkinson has just come out into society and is betrothed to Draco Malfoy. Antonin Dolohov is once again at the head of the Battle Forces of the Lord's Organization. They are an unlikely and an impossible couple but with the Second Wizarding War turning the world upside down, there is no such word as "never".


It took several weeks for the papers to pass back into Antonin's hands after the Azkaban breakout. The first week, he was simply in no state to manage any affairs, however rest, good food and fresh air, as well as a cocktail of potions, brought him and the others into shape.

They had been put up at Malfoy Manor, which had been appointed the status of Headquarters until a new location could be found. Recovered documents and resurrected achieves were brought straight into Lucius' study, conferences were held in the Malfoy formal dinning room, utilizing the fireplace there. Death Eaters, either freed or returning from abroad who did not feel safe yet to go back to their own estates, where put up in the guest rooms. Antonin, as soon as he was allowed by their healers, spent an afternoon along with several of the others putting up an extra security perimeter, although Lucius insisted that the blood wards would be enough.

"You will be thankful for the protection if it comes to it," Antonin had told his friend grimly, trying to ignore Lucius' hovering presence behind him. "We will try to find another place for Headquarters and then you can have your privacy back." Antonin couldn't help the slip of a teasing smile onto his expression. He knew that if Lucius hated anything about the situation it was the fact that suddenly a couple dozen people had access to his wards.

"It is not you I'm worried about, Tony. You're welcome to stay for as long as you please," Lucius answered in his usual dry drawl, so familiar that Antonin felt his heart swell with the realization of how badly he had missed this part of freedom – his friends.

He was amazed at how many of them had actually made it through. Lucius, Augustus Rookwood, Edward Parkinson, Theodore Mulciber… Bella. Antonin had to admit that even Rodolphus' survival was a pleasant surprise, despite their constant enmity.

There had been losses, too, of course. Heavy, daunting losses that were hard to think about, even harder to actually face. Andre Rosier had not made it through. Igor was being hunted and would be killed by their own for his treachery and Antonin could not decide what hurt more – Igor's impending death or his betrayal. Bellatrix, who had made it through, was not the woman he had once known. Azkaban had changed her, snapped something within her mind. She was so fragile now, constantly on the verge of madness. Her legendary temper now dissolved into fits of rage and hysterics. What had once been fascination with their Lord and a significant handful of gratitude for what he had once done for her and Antonin was now unconditional adoration which was nearly disturbing in the forms it took.

But even harder than that, perhaps, was knowing he had lost nearly all the boys he had personally trained. Antonin's Young Guard, his own highly-trained squad, the brightest heirs of that First War, the boys he had worked with for several years had not survived the war. Only four were left: Snape, Avery, Rabastan Lestrange and one of the Tallis twins.

Jack Avery had escaped Azkaban and now had a wife and a son. Fear and loss had left their imprint on the boy. A good deal of his thick, red hair was gone, his eyes were shifty and without their previous youthful spark. Antonin remembered Jack as the loud one, the boy who laughed and shouted at the most inappropriate times. Now, he mostly tried to stay unnoticed. And with Evan gone, whatever had bound Avery to Snape had evaporated as the two rarely spoke.

Snape had always been a boy with an attitude and a sharp tongue. But now there was an air of condescension and hostility to him that made Antonin nervous. Something had always been off about Snape but there had never been time to look into it. Now, Antonin feared, he would have as little time as ever but the matter was no less pressing, especially given just how much faith their Lord was suddenly putting into the man.

The first night that Lucius handed the papers over to Antonin in his study, Dolohov first meant to count his losses and put the past to rest. He opened up the files of the Young Guard and looked through the papers, a peace of parchment for each of the boys. All but four had dates of death written on them, the first two, in Antonin bold hand, the rest were drawn out carefully in Lucius' neat, ornate cursive.

Bonfante, Anatole July 1979

Black, Regulus December 1979

Mulciber, Ashley November 1981

Rosier, Evan November 1981

Wilkes, Angelus November 1981

Tallis, Alexander December 1981

Crouch, Barty June 1995

"Barty?" Antonin looked up at Lucius who sat in the armchair opposite him. "Only last year? How?"

"He was sentenced to Azkaban, then managed to get out somehow, something about his mother, I'm not certain. He, along with that rat, found our Lord and helped him gain strength. Barty was at Hogwarts impersonating Moody; he was integral to the plan to bring our Lord back to life."

"What happened?" Antonin felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. Barty had almost made it, had served once again. He should have been rewarded, not dead.

"He overreached, tried to get to Potter himself. Well, he was discovered and taken."

Antonin frowned, sensing that Lucius was reluctant to tell him everything. "Did he try to escape then or…" Lucius looked away and Antonin felt a sickening prick of dread. "Tell me, Lucius."

"He got the Kiss. We…we thought it would be kinder to…finish it, so I arranged some things, pulled some strings. Avada Kedavra – no pain."

Antonin rubbed circles into his temples and sighed. Barty had always been one of the brightest, one of those for whom Battle Magic came easily, naturally. He wasn't the nicest boy, but there was his idiot father to thank for that. Antonin looked back down at the file in his hands. "No one had the heart to tell Will did they?"

"Dorea Mulciber told him."

"I heard they wed."

"Yes, faithful girl, Dorea." Lucius smiled whimsically. "You would think that after losing both of her brothers – one to death, one to prison – she would not wish to bind herself to a man who was sentenced to life in Azkaban yet that is exactly what she did. She knew, of course, that Alexander was dead but she did not tell William anything until he was free."

"Perhaps she held out hope that he may one day be free and this way he had more to live for, to hold on for." Antonin had received news of his mother's death while serving his sentence and the blow had almost done him in. He could not blame Dorea for withholding the information.

"Perhaps." They fell silent for some time and Lucius poured them both a glass of brandy. "Our Lord is more determined to wage war than ever before," Lucius commented, not quite meeting Antonin's eyes. "We are, of course, expected to follow him. He has grown even more demanding, I am afraid."

Antonin shrugged and looked into the fire. "Have we a choice, Lucius? Do you not believe in the Cause anymore?"

"That is not what I meant," Lucius hissed, but there was a lack of the old defiance in his voice. "It's…harder with a family."

A heavy silence fell over them. Antonin would not deny that it would be harder this time. Their forces had been greatly diminished, the politics were not in their favor as much as they were last time, their Lord had personal affairs on his mind and his journey to the Other Side had left him…effected. But Antonin saw no other choice nor no other purpose to his life anymore than to fight and to win. If for any reason, then to avenge all the boys and friends he had lost, all the pain that had been caused him and those close to him. "Speaking of family," Antonin said finally, thinking that perhaps a switch of topic was in order. "Draco is – what? – fifteen now? Sixteen?"

"Nearly sixteen. He will be coming down for the Easter Ball along with some of the others' children."

"Will you present him?"

Lucius hesitated for a few moments, as though struggling with himself. "Yes," he asserted quietly just when Antonin thought Lucius might ignore the question altogether. "I will."


Pansy did not like corsets much. They squeezed the air out of her and she felt unnaturally slim and frail in their stranglehold. Nevertheless, she held her breath and steadied herself on one of the bedposts as their house elf tightened the ribbons of the corset. Over it came folds of white and forest green fabric, falling over her shoulders and breasts, sliding over her petticoats and hiding them. Pansy slipped into her small white shoes and looked at herself in the mirror critically. She wore her hair too short to put up – which grieved her parents – so her mother bid her to curl it. Pansy dismissed the elf and picked up her wand. The thick strands of her chocolate hair curled and fell into place, fixed into place by spells and small, nearly-invisible clips. She made up her face and stood to consider herself in the full-length mirror once again. It would have to do.

Pansy thought that it was ironic that her coming out ball should be the Malfoy Easter Ball. Not that she minded greatly but there seemed to be a slight in it somewhere. "Times are tough now, dear," her father had explained calmly over tea the night before. "There is a storm coming and we would not want to wait until summer, which is what it would certainly take for you to have your own ball. Besides, there may not be time come summer."

Pansy was not stupid. She understood very well what her father meant. With the return of the Dark Lord there was sure to be a war. Her father had served the Dark Lord in the past war and he would serve the man again. She saw that this troubled her parents but Pansy felt no fear, despite the darkening atmosphere. If anything, she felt a dizzy, giddy sort of excitement at the events unfolding around her and only wished she could be party to them in more ways than wearing a pretty dress to a ball.

Pansy made her way down the large staircase. Most of the candles were out as her parents were most likely ready to leave. She slowed her steps for the sake of not being criticized on entering the sitting room where her parents awaited. "Mama, Father, I am ready." Pansy folder her hands before her and looked expectantly at her parents.

"Ah, Pansy. You look lovely," Edward Parkinson said, coming up to his daughter and giving her a kiss on the temple. "Stunning."

"I look like a doll, Papa," Pansy protested. "How am I expected to dance when this damned corset it so tight?"

Michelle Parkinson took in a sharp breath. "Language, dear."

"Come." Edward waved for his daughter and wife to stand with him. They took the portkey and were soon swirling through space, landing in the hall of Malfoy Manor a few moments later.

Pansy looked around the dimly lit chamber with its engraved statues and tall, muted-glass windows which stretched up to the ceiling. Music carried to them from the ballroom and its cheerful sounds seemed to contrast strangely with the dark emerald marble and the overbearing atmosphere of the hallway. Pansy thought it strange as she had never felt darkness in Malfoy Manor. It was not the brightest house by any means but there was never such a crushing feeling of something intrusive and watchful.

Pansy followed her parents and soon found herself in the Malfoy ballroom. Here, she found, she could breathe easier. Hundreds of candles along the walls and on large, diamond chandeliers lit the expansive chamber and everything seemed to shine, glow and glitter. The music bubbled and swelled, the trills of a quadrille skipping on the air. Pansy found that she was smiling despite herself as they approached Narcissa to say their hellos.

Pansy scanned the room for Draco, searching him out at the table with the wine and among the dancing couples but he was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Lucius Malfoy at his wife's side. This puzzled Pansy and she wondered if Lucius and Draco had some sort of business to attend to that would hinder them from coming to the ball. The idea made Pansy feel hot and angry on the inside. That her beau would miss her coming out ball felt like a slap in the face.

Narcissa must have guessed Pansy's thoughts by her slight agitation and hurried to reassure her. "My husband and son are discussing some matter of importance. They shall be here shortly." Narcissa gave Pansy a somewhat knowing look which made her stomach flip. Could that mean that they were discussing her? Pansy mentally shrugged it off and, excusing herself, went to find her friends.

Pansy found Millicent first who, as usual, was playing the role of the dutiful wallflower. Pansy wondered if Millicent could even fit into a corset but she supposed corsets had to be made for all sizes and the suggestive way in which Millie's plentiful breasts peeked out of the top of her plum-colored gown gave Pansy the impression that there had to be at least some form of a corset there. Millie liked the elbow-length gloves and she usually wore black ones in hopes that they would make her dimpled elbows and plump wrists look thinner. The gloves matched her ridiculous feathered, black hair comb which she had stuck into her bun and it perched on the top of her head like some sort of limp bird. Millie's cheeks were bright red – whether from rouge or wine it was hard to tell – and they stuck out as the most noticeable part of her face, which was a pity, really, as Millie had very nice, beetle-black eyes. To her credit, Millicent did seem very capable of bearing children, many of them.

"Hello, Millie. Is Daphne dancing?" Pansy asked, taking a drink and a cake for herself.

"With Theo Nott," Millicent confirmed. "I think he fancies her."

Pansy gave a soft but very un-lady like snort into her glass. "Theodore would, wouldn't he? They'd match each other well, though." Daphne was the elder Greengrass daughter and the less lovely one; Astoria had eclipsed her long before any of the boys their age were old enough to notice. But Astoria was not out in society yet, therefore she was not here and Daphne could enjoy her last year or so of unlimited male attention before all of it migrated to Astoria.

"I haven't seen Draco," Millicent commented and Pansy could swear she heard a note of triumph in the other girl's voice.

Pansy smiled smugly not taking her eyes off the dancers. "Mrs. Malfoy said he and his father should be down shortly. They are discussing affairs of importance."

"Oh." Millicent's obviously deflated tone was nearly laughable.

"Look, Millie." Pansy nodded in the direction of Crabbe and Goyle who stood a few feet away, admiring the desserts and obviously trying hard to restrain their appetites. "Perhaps Gregory of Vincent will ask you to dance."

"I think Vince is sweet, Pansy," Millicent said defensively. "Don't be so cruel."

Pansy made a small face, remembering how she had been obliged to dance with Crabbe once and he had stepped on her toes repeatedly. To Gregory's credit, he could at least dance without nearly sending his partner to a healer. "Blaise is here?" Pansy asked, her eyes widening slightly when she spotted the dark skinned boy heading in their direction.

"Apparently," Millicent replied dryly.

"Blaise, I didn't think you would grace us with your presence," Pansy drew out as Blasie came up to them.

"Good evening to you too," Blaise said back, that infuriating condescending look brushing over Pansy and ignoring Millicent altogether. "Why are you so surprised? In fact I should be the one surprised, or was I not invited to your debutante ball?"

Pansy pursed her lips and suddenly wished that she had a fan with which she could swat at Blaise to her heart's content. "This is my coming out ball," she said, rolling her shoulders slightly and standing just a tad taller. "I am surprised because I would not say that you are…impressed by current events."

"Be that as it may, it is no reason to miss a ball. Besides, I have a new dress robe which yearned for an outing worthy of it."

Pansy sipped wordlessly at her wine, thinking that Blaise Zabini had to be the biggest prick she had ever known.

"A waltz, perhaps?" Blaise offered her his hand and Pansy gaped at him. He seriously could not think that after that near-insult she would dance with him. Still, she found herself curtsying and taking his hand in assent. It would have been terribly rude to decline.

By the time Pansy felt persistent eyes watching her, she had danced not just with Blaise but several other boys as well. Some of her curls had begun to loosen slightly and she made a mental note to take a moment in private to fix them.

She looked around to see who was watching her. It was Lucius Malfoy in his expensive, perfectly tailored green and black dress robes. He and Draco looked so much alike that it was rather remarkable and Pansy felt an inappropriate flutter in her stomach from that steady, steely gaze. Behind Lucius, she could see Narcissa leading her parents down a hallway, away from the ballroom and into a more private area of the house. Lucius gestured for Pansy to come over and she crossed the floor to him, trying to walk "like a lady" – as her mother would say – instead of running out of impatience to find out what was happening. "Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," Pansy said, hoping she did not sound too breathless.

"Come, child," Lucius said in a low, approving purr. "There is good news."

Pansy followed Lucius out of the ballroom and down the hall. Her heart began to beat so fast that she found herself catching her breath a little. If this was really what she thought it was then perhaps Draco had finally given his father her name and perhaps there would even be an early engagement. Pansy knew she was getting ahead of herself and it wasn't that she couldn't wait to get married and have lots of children but she knew that it was Draco she wanted and this would mean that he truly wanted her too and that what they had was not just a schoolyard tryst.

Lucius opened the door to his study and let Pansy go in first before following and closing the door with a flick of his wand. The room seemed very dim compared to the ballroom and Pansy had to blink several times before her eyes adjusted completely. Draco stood on one side of the room with his mother and Pansy's parents stood on the other. The fireplace crackled and sparked, giving the room a comfortable, homey glow. Pansy did not think she had ever been inside Lucius' study before. He had a large oak desk behind which stood a high-backed chair with a serpent engraved on it and comfortable-looking, leather armchairs. The study floor was covered with lush dark green carpets which matched some of the decorative ones hung on the walls. One wall contained a large bookshelf packed with books the smell of which tinged the air just slightly. On one of the shelves which did not have as many books stood an iron vase which looked ancient to Pansy. It was decorated with emeralds and silver letting which spelled out Latin words. The desk was neatly arranged with a candle, a couple of tidy stacks of papers, an ink-well and a wrack of different sized and shaped quills and the Malfoy seal.

Lucius went to join Draco and Narcissa on one side and Pansy went to stand between her parents. She looked up into her father's face and he nodded at her encouragingly. Apparently, they had already been briefly informed as to what was going on although Pansy thought that she did not need to be told to figure it out but her pounding heart did not allow her to jump to conclusions or meet Draco's eyes even though he was looking intently at her.

"My son has now given me the name of the girl he wishes to court with the intention of marriage," Lucius began in a quiet but strong and reverberating voice. Pansy finally found it in herself to look at Draco and he smiled at her. "Draco wishes to court you, Miss Parkinson, as my wife has no doubt informed your parents on the way here. Would you be receptive of such a courtship?"

"Yes," Pansy said, a little breathlessly. "I would be very receptive, Mr. Malfoy." She could hardly stop herself from beaming.

"And you would like to be Draco's bride?"

"Yes." Did he not just ask her that very thing?

"Edward, you and I have already discussed this matter earlier." Edward Parkinson nodded to acknowledge that he had given consent to this union. "Typically there would be a courting period," Lucius continued. "However, in light of recent events and the…not quite definite future, I would propose that we have an engagement as soon as possible. Admittedly, the waiting period before both Draco and Pansy come of age would be nearly a year, I am sure there is no rush."

"If there is no need to rush, I do not see the purpose of a full engagement," Michelle Parkinson cut in. "Believe me, Lucius, I want this marriage as much as anyone; all mothers worry for the future of their daughters. However, they are just children still and I am afraid that an engagement would weigh heavily on both."

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged glances. It seemed to Pansy that Lucius seemed especially anxious to settle the matter. "You must understand it is hard with the…war…" Narcissa seemed to choke on the word. Her pretty face scrunched up for a moment as though in pain, but then the expression was gone. "Draco is our only son."

Edward nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps…a betrothal? It would send the correct message but not be quite as…heavy, as my wife would put it, as an engagement. Then, perhaps some time in the summer before they go back to school we can have an official announcement and engagement ball. That will leave us plenty of time for preparation and no one will think their engagement strange. A girl in her sixth year can very well be engaged and even married."

Pansy did not know of anyone, even in Slytherin, who was married while still at school, although she did know that many Pureblood girls would get married straight out of school and quite a few seventh-year girls were engaged. Pansy did not think she would like to get married while still at school. It would be very strange, but she would love to have a ball.

Lucius seemed to think this over. "Yes, perhaps a betrothal. We can settle everything and then make a public announcement and hold a ball at a more convenient time." Something about the tone of Lucius' voice made Pansy think that it was not certain when there might be such a time. "We can figure out the details perhaps tomorrow, Edward?"

"Yes." Pansy glanced at her father who looked rather satisfied and thoughtful at the same time. She knew that these "details" most likely included her dowry and that was probably what was causing her father's thoughtful expression.

"Come," Narcissa said after a few more words had been exchanged. "They should be here soon and we've left our guest for long enough." They filed out of Lucius' study and Draco took Pansy's arm once they were in the hall.

"Are you happy?" he asked her.

"I am," she said back quietly, hoping that she wasn't blushing too much. "You?"

Draco surveyed her with his cool, grey eyes and a smirk began to dance across his lips. "Did you really think, Parkinson, that I would give my father someone else's name?"

Pansy rolled her eyes at him. "I can expect anything from you, Malfoy. Yet, I have always been secure in my place in your heart." She smirked back at him and Draco's smirk gradually morphed into a smile just as they re-entered the ballroom.

Pansy was standing with Draco, Theodore and Daphne when the Dark Lord arrived. A hush fell over the ballroom and the music was silenced. The candles in the large chandeliers flickered and their decorative teardrop-shaped diamonds swayed and clinked slightly against each other. The air seemed to condense and its thickness swallowed up some of the light. Pansy set aside her glass in anticipation.

"It's him. He's here! The Lord himself is here." Whispers carried around the room and Pansy found herself edging forward. Draco disappeared from her side to go and stand with his parents in the middle of the chamber.

The large double doors on one side of the ballroom swung open and in came the Dark Lord, escorted by some of his most privy cabinet members – three men and one woman. Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood and Bellatrix Lestrange were on one side while Rodolphus Lestrange, Severus Snape and Theodore Mulciber were on the other. The Lord stopped in the center of the chamber and his escort stopped with him. Everyone else bowed respectfully as the chandeliers continued to flicker and click away. The Lord had once been a charming, even handsome, man, but the body he had been reborn into was not so generous. His skin was pale and had a blue-ish hue to it. His nose was retracted and his eyes were narrow and hollow, sparking an unnatural red from time to time. He had no hair and a toothy, unappealing smile which hardly resembled a smile at all. The Lord held his wand in long, slender fingers on which the bones of the joints stuck out and the nails were lengthy like those of a woman. Lord Voldemort emanated power and darkness, a sort of awe-inspiring chill which made Pansy tingle all over in fascination and dread.

"I see, Lucius, that this is quite the grand affair," the Lord began in a hissing drawl which carried effortlessly across the ballroom. "I am glad to see so many supporters of our Cause. In fact it would seem that faith has remained strong among my followers." The Lord's eyes roamed over the chamber and finally landed on Draco. "So this is the Malfoy heir."

"My Lord," Lucius said, touching Draco's shoulder gently. "Might I present my son, Draco. He is my only son and heir and I assure you that he has been raised in all the proper ways and would strive to be an asset to our Cause."

"An honor, my Lord," Draco said crisply, drawing himself up. Pansy could see that he was terribly nervous despite all of his bravado. She could not blame him for even she was nervous although it was unlikely that the Dark Lord would pay her any mind.

"I see. Good, that is good. We will need promising young men in time," the Lord said in a thoughtful, foreboding tone. "I think it is time for the dancing to resume, however, as we are here for festivities, are we not, Lucius?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Lord Voldemort made a dismissive gesture and retired to the wine with his escort. Edward Parkinson stepped forward in that moment and held his hand up for attention. "Please, if I may make an announcement of great importance in front of my Lord and all those present." He turned to Pansy and signaled for her to come forward. Pansy walked gingerly to her father's side and he took her hand, squeezing it tightly. "My daughter, Pansy, has turned sixteen and it is time for her to be out in society. I hope my daughter can forgive the lack of a true ball in her honor but we would dedicate our attention to more pressing matters. Please." Edward led his daughter around himself in a circle and she curtsied thrice to all present and the Lord himself.

"Do you not have a son, Edward?" the Lord asked suddenly, cutting through the applause that had sounded for Pansy.

"Yes, my Lord. Richard. He is receiving his High Degree in France."

"Perhaps your son would enjoy a break from his studies. I would see him here next time."

"Y-yes, my Lord." Pansy saw her parents exchange worried looks before Lucius was able to cut in.

"We shall dedicate what remains of this night to the lovely Miss Parkinson," Lucius declared in a forcedly cheerful manner. "Especially since her family and ours would hope to soon become kin." Instantly, murmurings broke out throughout the crowd just as the music began once more and Pansy knew that everyone had understood the implication – a betrothal had been decided upon.

The floor was cleared and the music played but no couples hurried to fill the void. It would seem that the Lord's presence was stifling to most. Pansy tried to sneak glances at the Dark Lord without getting caught. He was an incredibly intimidating man – he did not even look much like a man – and Pansy could not imagine having to dance and laugh in front of him.

Pansy saw one of the men in the Lord's escort detach himself from their group and walk across the empty dance floor. She did not even realize that he was coming toward her until the man was right before her. "Antonin Dolohov," he said in way of introduction with a curt half-bow.

"Pansy Parkinson," she replied, wondering what someone about her father's age and from the Lord's escort could possibly want with her.

"Would you like to dance, Miss Parkinson?" Antonin offered her his hand and Pansy could not get out more than a mute nod. She took his hand and he led her out in front of everyone and they began to dance. Pansy was certain of her steps but it still felt awful to be the only one dancing and in front of the Lord himself as well. She tried to hide her discomfort but apparently it showed because Dolohov commented quietly, "You're blushing."

"I'm rather… Everyone is looking at us," she said back, trying to smile as though she did not actually care all that much.

"So let them watch. You're pretty enough."

Pansy blushed even more but bravely looked up into the older man's face. He was handsome for his years with shoulder length, wavy, dark brown hair and mist-grey eyes. There was a firmness in his features and although he was rather pale – Pansy figured it had something to do with his long stay in Azkaban – there was a masculine aura around him, some primitive male charisma that shined through his pallor and lit up his face. She suddenly felt very aware of her own breasts, lips, rosy cheeks and neat curls. She felt very feminine and small in the shadow of that masculine aura. It was not a comfortable feeling, one she had never felt before even though, Pansy had to admit, she was enjoying the dance.

By the time they reached their second turn, several other couples had come out to join them and by the end of the dance the floor was full. "It was a pleasure, Miss Parkinson," Antonin said as he led Pansy back over to the sidelines.

"I'm sure the honor is all mine, Mr. Dolohov. After all, you are one of our Lord's most trusted as I see," Pansy said, sounding casual but feeling a fluttery uncertain sensation inside, just under her ribs.

"I lead our Lord's battle forces," Antonin said with no pretence or pose to accompany the phrase. It seemed very simple for a man of such high standing. Pansy looked away from him and spotted Draco waiting for her. "Your lady, Mr. Malfoy," Antonin said, putting Pansy's hand into Draco's. He gave her one last nod and left, seeming to forget about her entirely once he reached his friends.

"Did you like that?" Draco asked uncertainly.

"Are you jealous?' Pansy shot back.

"Of old Dolohov?"

She rolled her eyes. "He's not that old. But don't be jealous. I'll dance with you next." She laughed and tugged Draco's hand so he would go and dance the quadrille with her.


There was no engagement ball for Pansy that summer. In fact there was no Malfoy ball at all nor any of their usual summer galas out in the gardens among the hedges which the elves would decorate with glittering fairylights. In fact, the manor had become gloomy and hushed, many of the curtains drawn. All the Death Eaters that had been staying there after the Azkaban breakout had gone but there was a darker shadow which fell over the Malfoys – the shadow of disfavor.

Pansy did not quite understand all of this but what she did understand was enough. Lucius had been put in charge of an important mission and the mission had failed. Apparently, it should have been an easily executed assignment and the Lord was not as merciful and patient toward failure as he had once been. Lucius, along with most of the others, had been captured by the Aurors and was now serving a term in Azkaban while his solicitors hammered appeal after appeal into the Wizengamot. Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov had been the only two to evade the Aurors.

Pansy heard her father speaking with Rodolphus Lestrange one night and both of them sounded agitated as they spoke in quiet voices behind the closed door of Edward's study. Fragments of their conversation reached Pansy's ears as she stood still in the shadows of the hallway, not wanting to eavesdrop but finding it impossible to move on toward the sitting room where she had been initially headed. She could not gather much from these fragments other than that the situation was disturbingly unstable and perilous, not just for the Malfoys but for everyone.


"My Lord, I must insist that Draco Malfoy is not old enough. He is merely just turned sixteen."

Antonin stood facing his Lord in the center of the Malfoys large dinning chamber where the Lord insisted on holding meetings, even the smaller ones, even though Antonin and the others had found and secured a different location for Headquarters. The paperwork, the training facilities, the main potions lab – generally everything – had already been relocated there but the Lord refused to hold court anywhere but Malfoy Manor unless under pressing circumstances. "I leave Strategic Headquarters in your capable hands, Antonin," their Lord had said. "I, however, would like to visit my old, slippery friend Lucius and his home once in a while." When Antonin had been called here today and found only Snape in the chamber along with him, Antonin had instantly suspected something of importance and of a private nature as well. Seeing Snape at these meetings was still surprising and uncomfortable for Antonin.

"Did you not put boys into battle once they turned sixteen before, Antonin?" The Dark Lord's eyes glowed a dangerous red but Antonin was not so easily intimidated. He had known their Lord when he still went by the name Riddle to those who knew him personally and to many who did not. Riddle had recruited him back then and Antonin knew his own value well.

"Indeed, my Lord. But those boys were trained in the Academy. They had two or at least one year of constant, intense battle training. Draco has had no training at all."

"What would you say to this, Severus?"

"I must agree with Dolohov. Draco is a child with no training and average wits about him although, he is not completely without talent, especially in certain areas."

That's Mr. Dolohov to you, boy, Antonin thought a little bitterly although he had few rights to the thought. Severus was well into adulthood now and their difference in age was no longer significant as well as their difference in rank it would seem.

"I am not asking him to go into battle, Antonin. You may keep him out of missions all you like. This is an assignment that would require more stealth than Battle Arts."

"All the harder then it is, my Lord!" Antonin protested. "Certainly, Severus is far more qualified… or we could plan an attack—"

"Lucius Malfoy will learn his lesson!" the Dark Lord snapped in an unnatural hiss which made his voice sound hardly human. "I will hear no more of this! Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord," Antonin acquiesced with a bow of submission. "However, Draco should not be Marked. We never marked a boy before he was of age. Not even the Young Guard."

Voldemort spun around and pointed his wand at Antonin. "Crucio!" he hissed in annoyance. The curse was not held for more than a split second but the charge that hit Antonin in the chest was enough to make him double over and kneel. "Get up, Dolohov," Voldemort commanded in the same irritated manner. "Say no more to me of this. It is decided."

"Yes, my Lord," Antonin agreed, stifling a cough. I'm sorry, Narcissa, he thought dejectedly. I tried, I did.

Pansy stood at the window of Draco's room, her hands gripping the windowsill so tightly that her knuckles were going white from the exertion. The daylight was slowly fading as the sun lowered itself toward the horizon, stretching out the shadows, but it was still too bright to light candles. Despite the fact that she was only wearing a light, yellow summer dress and light silky robes over it she felt hot and her eyes were dry and itchy as though with hayfever. Draco stood behind her, eyes fixated on her shoulders.

"Turn around and look at me, Pansy," he said, a pleading note slipping into his tone, a sign that he was utterly desperate to end her silence.

"I don't want to see it," she said stubbornly, fixing her gaze on one of the Malfoy peacocks roaming around in the gardens below.

"Why not!" Draco demanded in frustration. "Do you despise it? Do you think your family is on the wrong side? Would you rather be – or I be – a blood traitor and consort with Mudbloods?"

"No!" Pansy nearly screamed the word. It came so fast from so deep inside her that she could not control her voice. She turned around and bore her eyes into his arm. "Fine. Show me."

Draco met her eyes and without looking down rolled up his sleeve to show her the black skull-and-snake tattoo on his arm. It seemed to bulge due to the sharp contrast with Draco's fair skin and to Pansy it seemed as threatening as the Dark Lord himself. "Merlin…" she breathed in terrified awe. Pansy stepped forward and touched her fingers to Draco's arm. The Dark Mark felt cold and nearly alive under her fingers, like the scales of a large snake. The image of Nagini sprung into her mind and she yanked her hand away, instantly ashamed of herself when Draco winced.

He rolled the sleeves of his shirt and robes back down and sat heavily on the large four poster bed. There was a dragon carved out on its headboard and Pansy found herself studying the lines of the carving instead of meeting Draco's eyes. "I must avenge my father," Draco said in a hollow tone. "I must bring honor back to my family."

"I understand," Pansy said because she really did understand. Draco was the only one who could fight in his father's stead and bring glory to the Malfoy name. "I'm just scared, Draco," she admitted, sitting down beside him and taking his hand. "You have to do something and you say it's dangerous but you won't tell me what you have to do and now you're Marked so it could be anything. I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," Draco told her. "Either way." He pulled his hand out of hers sharply and stood with a nervous jerk of his head. "There's nothing I or anyone else can do about it."

Pansy was about to plead with him to tell her what it was he had been assigned to do, to tell him how not knowing was killing her more that anything and everything but she was cut short by a house elf popping in and informing Draco that his mother wanted to see him.

"I should go," Pansy said, getting up. "I'll walk down with you and say goodbye to your mother before I go."

Downstairs, Narcissa was speaking with someone in the parlor and Draco stopped just outside the half-open double doors, uncertain whether he should enter or wait for his mother to finish her conversation.

"Thank you for doing this, Antonin. I've really got no way of protecting him in this. I don't… I don't know what to do sometimes. Lucius is away and I don't know when he will come back…" She broke off as her voice hitched and Pansy saw Draco's face visibly darken.

"I understand, Narcissa." Dolohov's voice carried in a low, penetrating sound and in the dark of the hallway Pansy felt a nervous rush of excitement rise up in her for no reason that she could understand. "You know I will do what I can to prepare Draco for this but there's only so much I can teach him that will be helpful in this task, I am afraid."

Footsteps came in their direction and Draco stepped quickly forward into the light of the doorway. "Mother, you wished to speak with me?" He lifted his eyes cautiously to Dolohov and gave the older man a respectful nod. "Mr. Dolohov, good day."

"Yes, Draco. I wanted to say it is time. Antonin will take you to Headquarters now."

There were some more words exchanged but Pansy's entire attention was focused on Dolohov. He wore a darker, simpler robe than the night he danced with her at the Easter Ball. He was less pale but his eyes seemed to sink deeper as though he was not getting enough sleep. She remembered the smell of his toilet water and the warm sensation of his arm around her waist and the way she had been hyperaware of her body. Pansy nearly blushed and tore her eyes away before Antonin would see her looking and meet her eyes.

As it was, Dolohov's full attention was on Draco. "Come, Mr. Malfoy," he said in a commanding but not unkind voice, holding out a portkey. Draco said his goodbyes and he and Dolohov disappeared.

"Would you stay for tea, Pansy?" Narcissa asked, clapping for her house elf.

"If you like," Pansy agreed, making her way toward the sofa closest to the window. She liked sitting there and sometimes she and Draco would curl up on that sofa when his parents were away and tell silly spook stories with the fireplace crackling merrily in the background. "There is another Headquarters?" Pansy asked as Narcissa joined her and the elf poured their tea before disappearing with a small pop. "I thought here…?"

"Our Lord likes to hold conference here," Narcissa said in a tone that suggested that she was not happy about this but had no intention of discussing those feelings. "However, most things are done at the other Headquarters."

"If Draco is being taken there, does that mean he will fight? In battle?" Pansy was not certain if she thought such a thing was fascinating or frightening.

"In a way," Narcissa replied cautiously. "Our Lord would have Draco's assignment remain secret to all but a few."

"Yes, of course," Pansy agreed though she was still burning up with curiosity and worry.


Dear Mr. Dolohov,

I hope you can forgive me my impertinence of writing to you but I have no one else to turn to in this matter and you seemed very gallant to me when we met at the Malfoys' ball and you are good friends with my father, Edward Parkinson, so I was hoping that you could pay me some mind and set my mind at ease.

I know that Draco has been given some very important task for the Lord and I know that he has been Marked. I understand that this is a secret mission and perhaps you cannot reveal its details to me – although, not knowing is horrible, you must understand – but I am extremely concerned about Draco. He has become more distant ever since the year started and very jumpy. He is worried about his father and the war but I know this task is weighing on him.

I've been told by Draco and his mother that you had helped him with advice and some training before we went back to school so I feel that you care about Draco and the success of his mission or you would not have dedicated your time to helping him. I plead with you, however, to help him as much as possible even now. Draco knows nothing of war even though he pretends to. We are all uninformed and unprepared. I, for one, sometimes feel quite helpless.

Please, tell me what to do? How can I help Draco? I would do nearly anything to help him, to help our Cause and if you could tell me what to do I would be forever grateful.

Sincerely,

Pansy Parkinson

Antonin allowed the letter to flutter down onto his lap and stared ahead at the snowstorm that was brewing outside, white snow painting the world into a colorless blur. Pansy's letter was the letter of a child, a scared girl who was writing in sentences and phrases she had heard her mother use in the parlor. He could tell where Pansy suddenly became uncertain of her words and her thoughts – there were crossed out bits of text in those parts and her hand was visibly less steady, the parchment crinkled at the edges from the wavering of the quill.

If he closed his eyes, Antonin could see Edward's young daughter, who had blossomed beautiful, as she had been that night at the Malfoy's ball. There was fire in her eyes, something longing to break out from under that corset even though on the outside she could seem demure and graceful with her lacey silks and tight curls. What in Merlin's name was he supposed to say to her?


Dear Miss Parkinson,

Do not worry about writing to me. There is nothing untoward in that, especially since I know your father well and your fiancé's – yes, I know – father is one of my closest friends. I wish I could be more of a comfort to you than I am afraid is possible.

Mr. Malfoy's mission is, in fact, classified, and I cannot reveal its details to you. As far as what you can do to help him, I am really no expert. But do try to make him feel loved and believed in. Do not pry too much, as I am sure he will only be unhappy with you for it. But do not be disinterested. I know this all seems confusing but do as your heart tells you. I am sure it will not lead you wrong.

As for my part, I am, unfortunately, too far away to be much influence on or help to Mr. Malfoy. Your Head of House, Mr. Snape, would be of greater assistance, although I caution you against going to him in all situations that would not be dire. I am afraid your concerns would not be well received with him.

Have faith, Miss Parkinson. The war is upon us, but it will not last forever. You will marry, the war will end and everything will settle back into its place. Believe in us – in your family, your friends and everyone who fights for you and our future. It's the best help you can offer.

Sincerely,

Antonin Dolohov

In the dark of the girls' dormitory, with the only light coming from her wand, Pansy folded up the letter and tucked it away into a small wooden box where she kept the more valuable pieces of her correspondences under a locking spell. She put out the light on her wand and the owl that was sat on the windowsill hooted softly.

Daphne stirred and mumbled something in her sleep and Pansy waved in irritation at the owl. "Stupid bird, where do you think I'm going to get food for you in the middle of the night?" she hissed at it.

The owl ruffled its wings and hooted again.

Pansy sighed and felt around in her truck for the bag in which she carried Lulu's treats. She gave the owl a morsel and sent it on its way, watching as it flew gracefully across the moon, before settling back down into bed.

She wanted to know what Snape had to do with all of this, but overall something about Antonin's letter had assured her. Perhaps it was the finality with which he stated that the war would eventually end, as though he could see that end looming ahead, quickly approaching. She would re-read that last paragraph several times again that year. She drew something from it, something that no one else could give her. At the least, it was the strength she needed as she watched Draco fall apart more and more the longer the days of that year dragged on.


"P-professor Snape." Pansy had not meant to stumble the first word but coming face to face with her Head of House often put her off balance. There was no denying that the man was rather terrifying in the darkness of the dungeons. In the light of day in the Great Hall he was merely intimidating and in the classroom even managed to be well disposed toward his own House as there were always Gryffindors or careless Hufflepuffs to pick on. But here, in the dungeons, where the torches threw a dim light on the stone walls and a light half-breeze sometimes wafted through the halls, coming almost from the cracks it seemed, Professor Snape loomed a dark shadow, ominous and unforgiving. Pansy clutched the hilt of her wand under her robes. She knew she would not stand a chance in a real fight but she was not here to fight and holding onto her wand was comforting, the weight and texture of its hilt familiar in her hand.

"Yes, Miss Parkinson?" Snape drew out in a silky, deceptively soft tone.

Pansy drew herself up, trying to forget that Antonin had warned her about going to Snape and asking questions. He must have told her than Snape knew for a reason, otherwise why tell her at all? So she was here fishing for answers, answers she would probably not get but Pansy was not the sort of girl who would give up before she even tried. "I was hoping I could have a word with you in private, Professor."

Snape gave her a piercing looking and, instinctively, Pansy looked as far away from his face as she could without actually turning her head or changing her body posture. "Is it not rather late for you to be wandering around, Miss Parkinson?"

"I was not wondering, Professor," Pansy countered confidently, although confidence was not a feeling she was experiencing much of at the moment. "I was coming to see you."

There was a moment of silence in which Pansy was starting to fear that she would be turned away. But then Snape gave a swish of his cloak and ushered her in. "Come in quickly then."

Pansy swept past the professor and gave a curious look around before turning to face Snape once again. She had been in this office once or perhaps twice before but Pansy always found herself astonished by the number of flasks lining the walls with all sorts of ingredients and mummified – or something like that – creatures in them. Snape's desk was part of a lab table set up and there were only two candles set on either side of the writing space. The rest of the light came from the enchanted blue, green, red and yellow backlights of the various flasks. It was painfully obvious that Snape was a potions professor and an obsessive one at that.

"What did you want, Miss Parkinson?"

"I-I wanted to speak with you abut Draco, Professor," Pansy said, attempting to settle her nerves and make her voice sound confident and clear.

"What about Mr. Malfoy?" The blank expression on Snape's face remained infuriatingly unchangeable.

"I'm worried about him, Professor. I know he has some secret task – but I know you know about it and perhaps even what it is – and I wanted to come to you for advice and…and…" She faltered. Snape seemed to be glaring at her as though trying to set her on fire with wandless magic. Of perhaps freeze her. Antonin was certainly right about him not being very receptive.

"Even if I knew something about a task that Mr. Malfoy has why would I reveal its details to you, Miss Parkinson?"

"I don't want details per se. I just want…I want to help him; I want to offer…I don't know. Support?"

"What tender sentiments." Snape's tone dripped in sarcasm and Pansy could not help the wave of insulted frustration that rose up in her.

"How dare—We're betrothed—Of course I want to…" Pansy felt herself withering under Snape's gaze but she was so certain that she was doing everything right that even those heavy, piercing eyes could not get her to back down without a fight. "He's pushing me away. He is pushing everyone away," she finally forced out, almost desperately.

"Perhaps it would be better then if you left Mr. Malfoy alone. Personal space can be a great thing, Miss Parkinson." There was something unpleasant in Snape's tone, almost as though he meant to be sarcastic without actually sounding it. "As it is, I do know about Mr. Malfoy's task but I am not at liberty to speak of it. It should be of none of your concern anyway."

But it is my concern! Pansy thought. She longed to shout it but angering Snape would not get her anything of what she wanted. "Well, if you know of his task…would you not help Draco, Professor?"

"This is none of your business, Miss Parkinson and I strongly suggest that you stop your prying." An icy edge appeared in Snape's voice and Pansy took an instinctive step back. She felt emotionally and mentally worn down and the slow hysteric was growing deep inside her, gradually bubbling up to the surface.

"Please, Professor, you may be Draco's only hope! Mr. Dolohov wouldn't have mentioned you in his letter if you could not be of help in this case!" Pansy blurted out. She took another step toward the door.

"Mr. Dolohov?" There was genuine surprise in Snape's voice. It was well masked but Pansy still noticed it, a small upward slip of a note in his tone. He must have assumed all of her information was from Draco himself. So then, Draco and Snape must have spoken before about Draco's task. That did not mean that Snape was helping him but maybe he was trying.

"Yes. I wrote to him and he wrote back. A very kind letter. He mentioned that you would be of greater help here to Draco than he could be, seeing as how he's so far away."

A deep shadow settled over Snape's face and he seemed to consider something for several moments before saying sharply, "Stop prying, Miss Parkinson, it will not bring any good. If you lead a correspondence with Dolohov don't tell anyone about it. Or don't have one at all, that is even better. Now off to the common room with you."

Pansy, unwilling to meet Snape's eyes, had no more protests or any more strength to hold a further contest of her will against his patience. "Good night, Professor," she said briskly and swept from the room, trying to hold her head up as her mother had taught her to always do instead of just scampering away like some frightened Hufflepuff who had just been told off.

She hadn't exactly expected for her visit to be very productive but she had not expected to be even more worried after she left Snape's office. Why did he not want her to know anything about Draco's mission or to help him, or to write to Mr. Dolohov? There was something ominous in the air and it wasn't just the far off war. It felt like the war was coming closer. Coming here. Coming to swallow her whole.


"You went to talk to Snape about me?"

"Shhh. Draco, this is the library," Pansy hissed back at him, slamming shut the large tome she was holding. "I don't fancy Madam Pince coming to tell us off."

Draco lowered his voice but pushed her further down the isle until they were in a corner with bookshelves on three sides of them and no one in sight. "You went to see Snape about me," he repeated. This time it was a statement not a question.

"I'm surprised he told you about it," Pansy snipped back, feeling irritated. What business was it of his? He wasn't telling her anything about what he was doing, why he was so edgy lately or anything at all, for that matter.

"Well he did, but that's not the point. Why did you go? Did you think he would actually tell you anything?"

"I don't know why I went. I was worried about you. You never talk to me anymore Draco. You disappear all silent and mysterious sometimes during the night and you're never happy when you come back and you never—" it sounded silly to say but, well, they were betrothed, she had a right, damn it. "You never have any time to be with me anymore."

"And you thought going to Snape would fix that?" She couldn't tell if Draco sounded dumbfounded or angry anymore.

"No. Well, I don't know what I thought. I'm doing what I can, alright, Draco? You've left me in the dark and you know how much I hate that."

He looked at her hard for a few minutes, then backed away a step as though forcing himself to not do something rash. Like hit me, Pansy thought. "Stop prying, Pansy. Alright? Just stop. You're not helping me and you're only causing trouble for everyone involved. I'm sorry if I haven't been paying you enough attention but I have more important things to worry about than you right now."

That stung. It stung hard enough for Pansy to open her mouth but not utter a single word. She almost dropped the book she was holding. Really, she wanted to throw the heavy thing at him, but instead she merely turned away from him and slid the large tome onto a shelf, not bothering to put it back where she'd gotten it. Her thoughts were too mixed up for that at the moment. "I understand," she said flatly. "Are you going home for Christmas."

"No, I need to stay here. It will be easier to think with everyone gone and away."

Pansy turned and looked up at him mournfully. "Alright. Good luck. Don't hurt yourself with all that thinking." She tried to smirk at him as she used to but the expression didn't quite form.

Pansy left for Christmas with most of the student body. She spent the holidays waiting for an owl. One finally came on Christmas morning. Attached to it was a quick note reading: Happy Christmas, Pansy. –Draco. She stared at it in disappointment, then gathered her wits and wrote back a simple, short letter, which she hoped did not come off as too cold. As she watched Draco's owl make its way back to Hogwarts with her letter, she imagined Draco sitting in proud solitude in the middle of the Slytherin common room. He was miles away now – not just physically but also emotionally and Pansy didn't think she could fix it.

When she returned to school, things did not change. Sometimes it felt to Pansy like the Dark Mark had done something to Draco because ever since he got it he started drifting further and further away from her.


Pansy's eyes were raw from unshed tears. She could feel herself trembling, the tension that had been building up over the last few months releasing itself in a silent hysteric that she could hardly contain. She had watched Draco struggle silently with whatever demons fed on him and felt utterly helpless to do anything to help him. With every day he grew more silent and distant. She tried to comfort him, sometimes with words, sometimes with kisses, but nothing she did seemed to make a significant difference. Draco's nervousness and despair translated to her and she feared for his sanity as well as her own.

She found him in a dark, deserted hallway where all was silent other than a steady dripping sound from some hidden leak. Draco stood against the wall with his shirt buttons undone and his head thrown back. His eyes were closed and his hands clenched and unclenched in the folds of his waistcoat.

"Draco?" Pansy approached him cautiously like one would approach a wild animal. Lately Draco had been unpredictable and she could never be sure when a misstep could cost her a hex in the chest or face. "Please talk to me." She could feel the soreness and dryness in her eyes, the raw stinging behind her eyelids. She could almost feel her pupils dilating as her eyes struggled to adjust to the dark.

"I've got nothing to tell you," Draco forced out, his breathing coming in short intakes of air which he let out with force. "I told you, Pansy, this is something I have to do. It's my mission, my glory, my—"

"I don't care about the damned glory!" Pansy snapped in frustration. "Ever since school began you've grown more and more morose and neurotic. I don't care about the glory, Draco. I care about your safety and your sanity."

Draco's head snapped into a more upright position and he turned to glare at her. In the darkness, it was hard to distinguish his expression but Pansy could feel his eyes burning into her. "All you've done is worry. I don't know who's more worried you or I? Do you think I can't handle it?"

"No, that is not what I—"

"Just because the others are so effected by us being out of favor I thought my own bride—"

"Draco!"

"—would have some faith!" His words were spiteful and Pansy knew they came out of anger not at her but at whatever it was he couldn't get done. That didn't make them any less hurtful.

"I have faith enough," Pansy snapped, iciness slipping into her tone. "I just want to help." The ice melted as quickly as it came and she felt herself ready to cry again. "Please, Draco." She reached for him but he slapped her hand away,

"Don't touch me!"

She backed away, confused and hurt. "Why won't you let me help? Why do you hate me for even worrying?" she asked a little bitterly.

"I don't hate you, Pansy. But I'll be fine on my own. I don't need you or Snape or anyone! Now grow up and stop worrying. This is a war, you know. Bad things happen. Merlin, girls don't have the stomach for anything." He shoved past her and disappeared around a sharp corner.

Needles pricked away at Pansy's eyes making it hard to see and think. She pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes and rubbed, trying to make the tears go away. It wasn't fair. He had no right to speak to her like that and perhaps if he just stopped pushing everyone away maybe it would be easier.

Pansy wandered through the halls in the general direction of the common room. Her tie felt like it was suffocating her so she loosened it. She thought of all the rumors that were going around, how worried her mother sounded even in her letters, how she could never reach Draco anymore, how her brother was being recalled from his studies in Paris to come and fight. She'd heard rumors of the first battles and though they seemed so far away there was always a reminder of just how close the reality actually was. The reminders usually came with the morning post when one of her housemates would let out a soft gasp and quickly leave the hall after receiving a letter. Then there would be rumors of a death or someone's relative ending up in St. Mungo's.

Pansy stopped at a window and looked outside over the Hogwarts grounds. It was nearly curfew and people were returning from their walks and outdoor activities in pairs or groups. The snow no longer fell and the sky seemed darker, no longer lit up by the reflection of the Hogwarts lights. Among the returning students Pansy spotted the "golden trio" of Gryffindor – Potter, Weasley and Granger. They had their heads together and then the Granger girl laughed and the others joined her. Pansy felt a sharp stab of hatred toward all three. She could not even say who she hated more – the Mudblood or Potter. All of this was because of them and people like them and yet they somehow had the audacity to be happy.

Pansy twisted one hand in the folds of her robes and the other found the hilt of her wand. She took several steadying breaths and turned away from the window. She knew she was on the right side of these barricades and she knew that victory was rightfully theirs' but she also was certain of a very Slytherin truth: few things in life were fair, if any at all.


Draco's expression had goodbye written all over it. In the moonlight that fell through the large, ornate windows he looked even more fair than in sunlight. Draco looked like a ghost and a small, superstitious part of Pansy was frightened by the comparison. She drew her robes tighter around herself and looked up at him questioningly. "Why here? If Filch were to find us….It's almost past curfew."

"I didn't want to do this in the common room." Draco was only wearing his shirt and tie. The crisp, white fabric glowed an ethereal blue. He took a step toward her and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. Pansy leaned into the touch, feeling a long-gone warmth fill her.

'Do what?" she asked in nearly a whisper, meeting his eyes.

"I want to…I want to tell you that I'm sorry for…everything. I also wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Panic rose up in her and Pansy threw herself forward but Draco caught her wrists and held tight. He pulled her closer and kissed her hard, the way he hadn't kissed her since… Since September, probably.

"Not forever. I don't think forever. Just. For now. Remember the thing I have to do?"

Pansy nodded mutely, sill looking up at him with wide eyes. How could she forget?

"I'm almost done." A note of hysteria slipped into Draco's voice. "It's almost over and if everything goes the way it should, all will be well again. I hope."

"I hope so too," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "But why goodbye? Where are you going? When will you be back?"

Draco leaned his forehead against hers and smirked. "Shut up for a moment, Parkinson." He kissed her again, winding his arms around her waist. She held onto him as tightly as she could. When he stopped kissing her, she buried her face into the crook of his neck. They stood like that for a long time, then Draco took a step back and released her. The loss of contact left Pansy feeling cold and alone once again. "I have to go. Go back to the common room, alright?"

"I suppose you can't tell me where you're going."

"No."

Pansy sighed and nodded. "Alright." She gave him one last, long look, then turned on her heal and ran until she reached the dungeons.


"Pansy! Pansy, wake up!"

Pansy forced her eyes open as someone shook her awake. Her eyes met another pair of dark orbs in the gloom. Daphne. Pansy pushed her friend's hands away and sat up. Hair fell over her forehead and eyes and she swiped at it impatiently. "What?"

"Something's happening! There's…I think there's fighting." Daphne looked completely shell shocked and her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated even in the dark.

Pansy rubbed at her eyes, trying to get her hazy mind to comprehend the situation. This was one of the few times she wished that their common room was on one of the towers rather than in the dungeons – the lack of a good view outside was stifling. "What do you mean fighting? I can't hear anything."

Daphne shook her head and fell onto the end of Pansy's bed in a heap. Now Pansy could tell that she was breathing hard. "You can't hear it here but I was out with Theodore, we were—" Daphne blushed and Pansy couldn't help smirking "—anyway, we were out and then we hear crackling and booming but very far away. It sounded like curses and spells hitting…things."

Something in Pansy's chest constricted painfully. Draco's words from earlier that night echoed in her head: "I also wanted to say goodbye." She reached her hand out and grabbed at her clothes. She found a comfortable house dress but nothing from her uniform. She froze and bit her lip. "Maybe just fireworks or some fourth years having a go at it," she reasoned. Voices began to float up to them from the common room downstairs.

"We thought so too but then…then Theo looked outside and we saw…above one of the towers…the astronomy tower I think…we saw…"

Millicent and Circe stirred and one of them mumbled something about being quiet.

Pansy reached out and gave Daphne a nice big shake. "What did you see?" Pansy demanded.

"I don't know, but Theo – he saw it better – he said it was green and looked like the Dark Mark."

Pansy's fingers closed around the soft fabric of the house dress. She threw off her nightgown and slipped into the dress without a word, then climbed out of bed and grabbed her wand. "Lumos." In the light of her wand, Pansy managed to find her robes and shoes. She could feel Daphne watching her in confusion from the bed.

"Where are you going? Pansy?":

"I have to find Draco." Pansy nearly ran from the bedroom and tumbled down the stairs. The common room was already full of sixth and seventh year boys. Pansy's eyes swept the group, searching out Draco's bright blonde hair. Not seeing him, Pansy made a beeline for Theo. She grabbed his arm and turned him around. Theo had the same wide-eyed expression as Daphne and Pansy had a biting thought that they really were perfect for each other. "Did you see Draco? Do you know where he is?"

Theo shook his head. "I didn't see him upstairs. Did Daphne tell you—?"

"Yes." Pansy turned away from him and continued to look around the room. She saw Daphne coming down with Circe and a half-asleep Millicent. The boys around her were talking excitedly. Some wanted to go see what was happening, others thought that staying put would be a better idea, a couple suggested that they needed to tell Professor Snape. "Draco's not here," Pansy breathed out more to herself then to her friends who were all looking at her in concern. Unconsciously, Pansy ran a hand through her hair even though she was hardly thinking about her looks. "I need to find him."

Circe grabbed her hand and held her back. "Where are you going to go? If there's fighting, it wouldn't be safe."

"I don't care," Pansy snapped. Even if there was fighting, so be it. She wanted to fight, it was better then sitting around and waiting to be told what was going on and what would happen next. She tore her wrist from Circe's grip and ran from the common room into the dark of the stone hallway.

Pansy was not the first one to the Great Hall. A large swarm of Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors and Ravenclaws was already present. A couple of haggard prefects were trying to get everyone to go back to their common rooms but no one was listening to them. Pieces of information fell slowly into place for Pansy – there had been a break in, a battle and…

Pansy found herself carried outside by the tidal wave of students. Professors began to crop up among them but they did not seem to care that students were out of bed, aside from perhaps Filch whom Pansy saw skulking along in the shadows at one point.

A crowd was gathering under the Astronomy tower and it took a while for Pansy to push forward. A hush was quickly falling over the group. Pansy pushed her way passed two fourth years and stood on tiptoes to see over a few heads. The sight that greeted her made Pansy freeze and stay still, swallowing up all of her worries in a single wash of disbelief.

Dumbledore lay on the ground with a stony, dead expression and Potter had fallen over his body. She could tell he was crying.

"Is Dumbledore…?" Pansy whispered in disbelief.

"Yes," the Ravenclaw in from of her answered. Chang, was that her name? "It's so horrible," the girl continued with the same tearful voice.

All around, students began to lift wands with glowing tips into the air. New students were still arriving and receiving the news. Pansy waited for an opening before slithering her way out of the crowd and sprinting back to the common room.


"Is everyone back?" Antonin stood at the external entrance to the med wing, squinting out into the darkness as the detachment came back.

"Gibbon isn't back." Amycus had an arm around his sister even though Alecto looked steady and unharmed.

"Gibbon's dead," Jugson informed them morosely, surveying the torn and charred sleeve of his robes.

"I think it's my fault. My aim is shit, always has been." Rowle put in with a guilty expression. "There was a group of students; they put up quite a fight."

"The Order got there fast enough too," Amycus added glumly. Alecto shrugged his arm off.

"I'm not sure how they all got word so quickly but the main thing is done."

"Done, yes…" Antonin muttered thoughtfully, still squinting into the dark. "Then where are Severus and Draco?"

"They've gone Plan B." Bella appeared at his shoulder. Her eyes were wild and her curly hair stood on end, some of it coming undone from the ribbon she'd used to put it up before the mission.

"I thought Rowle said it's done?" Antonin waved for their group to proceed inside. They walked through the medical ward and into one of the conference rooms where the rest of the officers present where waiting anxiously for news. Antonin suddenly felt a sharp prick of regret for not having gone on this raid but rather staying behind to coordinate and keep watch on some of the other outposts in case of post-shock disturbances. So far everything was quit. Given that the Order was already aware, they were apparently not seeking immediate retaliation, or simply did not know how to go about it.

"Draco lost his nerve at the last moment. Snape had to finish the job," Bellatrix said with a hint of distaste.

Antonin sighed. The Lord was not going to like this. He took her arm and kept her back as everyone else filed into the conference room. "We will wait for Snape before we debrief," he informed Rowle and told him to pass it on to the rest. When they were alone in the hall, Antonin turned to Bella. "You know our Lord will not be happy."

"As he rightfully should be. Draco proved himself weak-willed."

"Draco is a child." She tried to step away from him but Antonin held onto her arm. "Bella, I would ask you to put in a kind word for Draco before our Lord. He may actually bother to listen to you. He…favors you." It was unpleasant to say those words and Antonin felt the wave of disrespectful disgust rise up in him. Their Lord had begun to take the sort of liberties with Bella which he would not have allowed himself during the First War and it seemed that she allowed him to do so, not out of fear but out of that maniacal adoration that had developed within her since their stay in Azkaban.

Bella squinted at him and then laughed, high pitched and unnatural. "What makes you think that I have such an influence on our Lord, Antonin? Besides, I think Draco deserves punishment."

"He is your nephew."

"All the more reason for him to be strong. Otherwise he'll end up like his father. He is the last bearer of the blood of the House of Black."

"Bella. Oh, Merlin. Wake up!" Antonin gave her shoulders a shake and then leaned in and kissed her. He had not done so since her wedding day when she walked down the isle to Rodolphus because everything in the world had, for some inexplicable reason, lined up against them back then. Where was she now, his Bella? The girl he had once loved, the passionate girl full of life and desire? He could hardly glimpse her in the woman that Azkaban had made her, in the "Dark Lord's Whore" as he knew some of the men called her, far out of ear shot of Antonin or Rodolphus – or Bella herself – but he still knew they called her that.

For a moment she let him kiss her. Then, she shoved him back and drew her wand. "Do that again and I will hex you," she hissed at him. He simply looked at her, as though daring her to go through with that promise. For a moment, they were locked in a staring match until Bella, finally, slowly, lowered her wand and said in a small, broken voice, "Please, Tony. I can't." He reached, grabbing for her arm as his heart somersaulted but she shied away and ran from him into the safety of the crowded conference room.

Antonin stood for several minutes, alone in the dark, allowing his heart rate to settle as he forced himself to forget that look and that voice. She was gone, he knew that, he'd accepted it. Catching a glimpse of the old Bella was a gift but only that. She was gone.


News came trickling into the Slytherin common room through the night: a Death Eater break in, Dumbledore dead, struck down by Professor Snape who had fled. If Potter was to be believed, Draco had been on the tower as well and had organized the break in. It would seem that Draco had fled but no one had had word from him and no one knew where he was.

By dawn, Pansy could not longer stand the crowded common room, full of its gossip and speculation. She made her way out into the fresh, cool morning air and trudged through the dew-wet grass up to the lake. The sky had brightened and a long stripe of bright yellow had appeared above the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. Pansy settled under one of the large oak trees that grew by the lake and stared over its dark surface which was gradually lightening from black to a deep plum as the sun continued to rise.

Draco's face kept floating up before her eyes and she could so clearly see his pointed chin, well-defined cheek bones and grey eyes, so like the morning mist that covered the Hogwarts grounds, that Pansy felt as though all she needed to do was reach out a hand and she could touch him. But every time the visage faded away into nothing as soon as she moved or blinked. Her hands and legs were cold but she barely felt the nipping chill of the morning. She could not imagine what would happen to Draco now, where he would go, where he was now. She knew that Draco must have been under orders to not reveal anything about his assignment but she still felt slighted in that he had not even trusted her enough to allow her to participate in generic, unrevealing ways. She felt like he had chosen to fight this war without her and that he had no concern for how she felt now, alone and without him, worried about him. Pansy wondered if he would send an owl.

An owl did find her, half an hour before breakfast when Pansy was thinking about returning to the common room to change. It was not Draco's owl but Antonin's – she recognized the rather unique pattern on her wings and the slight dent in her beak. Pansy spelled away the strings that bound the letter to the owl's foot, not trusting her fingers to undo the tight knots, and ripped open the envelope.

Miss Parkinson,

I am sure that you already know what has happened at Hogwarts during the night. If you do not know, you surely will know soon enough. I would have written to you earlier aside from two reasons: Headquarters has been hectic for the past few hours – I have been in meetings all night – and a banal fear that if you were not woken in the night by these events, that my overeager owl might disturb you.

You must be worried about Mr. Malfoy, so I hurry to inform you that he is safe, unharmed and under our protection. Severus Snape is with him as well. Draco will have some difficult times ahead of him – our Lord will not be happy that Draco was no able to bring his mission to completion – but I assure you that his safety is unquestioned and I have confirmed the arrangements for that personally.

Miss Parkinson, I urge you to not attempt to contact Mr. Malfoy for now. This is for his own safety as well as your own. In fact, I suggest that you burn this letter and remain extremely careful in the correspondence you keep at least while you finish your year at school.

Sincerely,

Antonin Dolohov

Pansy let out a long breath as she finished reading the letter. The owl hooted at her and Pansy waved to show that she would not be sending back a letter. The large bird spread its wings and soared into the sky hooting as she went.

Pansy held the letter close to her chest and tilted her head up, looking up at the sky which had brightened completely and welcomed a watery, morning sun onto its canvas. Pansy could not understand what was unsuccessful about Draco's mission – the Death Eaters breached Hogwarts, Dumbledore was dead, what else could their Lord want? But the important thing was that he was safe and well. As she wondered back up to the castle to change and clean up for breakfast, Pansy thought, warmly, that it was kind of Mr. Dolohov to write to her and reassure her. She doubted that most people would do the same, especially someone so high up in the ranks of the Dark Lord. Pansy thought of writing him a note but did not want to seem careless so she decided to wait and thank Antonin in person once she was back home for summer holiday.