Pansy couldn't live like this anymore. She had tried to be the obedient pureblood wife she had been tutored to become from childhood, but something was standing in the way. What a time to acquire a conscience, she sneered inwardly.
But, much to her chagrin, it appeared that she had. Otherwise she wouldn't be in her present state: making a final inventory of all her worldly possessions to ensure that they had all been safely packed away into her black, silk-lined luggage. A present from Draco on the eve of their trip to Italy. She cringed to think of what criminal act had precipitated their romantic getaway, had caused him to leave her to her own devices for hours at a time throughout the weeks.
Despite what her peers may have thought, Pansy wasn't a monster. She was a simpering idiot, so desperate as to go to any lengths to win Draco's love. If her beloved husband scorned mudbloods and triumphed the Dark Lord's cause, then she did too. She had turned a blind eye to his indiscretions and ensured that the house elves always had a warm meal waiting for him at whatever indecent hour he finally returned home.
But she wasn't a monster. A monster wouldn't do what she was about to go through with. For a witch to leave her pureblood husband was disgrace and social alienation. If the husband in question was a Malfoy, it was suicide. She knew that Lucius would come after her. It was a matter of honor, and there was no pureblood family more honorable than the Malfoys. The safest thing for her to do, aside from staying, would be to flee the country. Instead, she would be returning to Hogwarts for the first time in three years to lay herself at Dumbledore's feet and offer herself to his cause in any way that she could.
The thought made her want to gag, but she would do anything to stop Draco. She couldn't escape the faces of his victims: classmates, neighbors, and Millicent. It had been Millicent's death that had pushed her over the edge. Draco had come home and bragged to her about it, like she would be proud of him for it. Like he hadn't murdered her best friend, the only person in the world who kept her grounded in reality.
That was when Pansy had decided to leave, because he had killed her Millicent and he was still killing. Killing other people's Millicents. Ordinarily, Pansy couldn't be bothered with the troubles of other people; it was a single-mindedness that Slytherins prided themselves on. But Pansy that knew this was more than revenge. This was justice. How pathetically Gryffindor. She had protected him and everything that he did for far too long, and now she would have to atone for that. She had his 'business records,' the ones he kept hidden in the warded compartment under the hearth in their chambers, and she had her memories. She would turn them all over to the Order the first chance she got. She only hoped it would be enough.
Breathing deeply to collect herself, Pansy shrank her luggage and slipped it into the pocket of her robes. Moving through the front door, she allowed herself one last glance at the manor house that encapsulated everything she had hoped for, everything that she had dreamed she could become. She gave herself one moment to feel the full weight of it, then she turned her back on it, walked to the end of the lane, and disapparated, leaving the great, empty house shrouded in night.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed!