Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the characters, etc.
1998
Pansy stood silently at the edge of the courtyard that just hours ago had led to the wooden bridge that she had crossed numerous times during the past seven years. It now appeared to have been blown up, for large wooden shambles lay everywhere, and there was no way to cross to the other side without the use of magic. The sun was faintly starting to rise, and a soft breeze ruffled her short dark locks. A few pieces stuck to her heart shaped pale face, which was covered in sweat. The witch gazed into the distance, her violet eyes hard and unwavering; masking all emotion, or lack thereof.
The Dark Lord was defeated. Truly defeated, by Saint Potter, the boy who she had tried to hand over out of fear and selfishness; two qualities that Pansy wished she could dig out of her petite body with two hands. If she could just drain her heart of the darkness that possessed it, she would without abandon. She was not sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, she thought with a slight smirk. No, she was Slytherin through and through, and when push came to shove she wanted to protect all that she had left. Her parents were gone. Dead by His command, perhaps, or by someone in the Order. Pansy was never told the specifics, had only received a short letter six months ago that she had crumpled up without shedding a tear. Her fellow Slytherins were her family now. He was her family now.
As if on cue, soft footsteps echoed behind her. She heard him maneuver through large chunks of broken brick, and other debris. Finally, she felt him behind her; his soft breath tickling her neck and sending shivers down her body.
"You came," she stated without turning around.
He pressed his body closer to hers. "How could I not? After everything?" Draco murmured, sliding his large hands around her waist. "You're alive Pansy, you're alive, and I'm alive. We have a chance now, a real chance I believe. We can make up for all the time before this year where I was a fool to you," he whispered urgently.
Turning around, Pansy grabbed harshly onto his robes and slammed her lips against his. He tasted of hope, and regret; his warm lips working in perfect tandem with her own. His tongue, performing a skilled dance that made her weak in the knees. His hands were everywhere, her hands were everywhere. Running through his white blonde hair that was for once not slicked back. Running down her back, and thighs.
For what seemed like eternity, she had not known his fate. She had been locked up in the dungeons for the duration of the battle, unable to do anything but pray. If there was a God, or Merlin, he had listened to her pleas to not take the one man who had become her anchor in the previous months. Yes, Draco Malfoy had certainly changed since their sixth year when he had been tasked with killing Dumbledore. Something had shattered inside of him, just like something had shattered inside of her with her parents sudden deaths.
Slowly pulling away, Pansy looked into his grey eyes. "I tried to hand Potter over."
A moment of silence passed. "It doesn't matter, it's over. My mother- she protected him. If anyone can find a way to weasel out of punishment and prison, it's my father. And you, you're seventeen. They couldn't possibly arrest you."
"Do you really believe that Draco?" she asked, smiling sadly. "Their side lost so many. Do you know how many bodies I saw in the Great Hall? If I were them, there would only be one thing that I would want- revenge."
Draco grabbed her hand and moved to stand beside her. Without speaking, they looked up at the broken clock tower. There were no more bells signaling the end of lessons, no more chimes. Hogwarts, more a home to Pansy than her own manor, was destroyed.
"Come to Malfoy Manor with me," said Draco, giving her hand a quick squeeze. "My mother always adored you. We will figure this out."
"I-," she wanted to say yes, but the words got stuck in her throat. She was suddenly afraid that she might succumb to crying.
"Say yes," he asserted, his voice firmer this time.
Knowing that she couldn't stand being in her empty childhood home all alone she nodded her head. "Yes Draco, yes."
He pulled her to him again. "Pansy, you know that even though I have not said it, I-,"
"Shhh," she placed a finger on his lips, stopping him. She didn't think that she could handle hearing those words now. "I know."
Taking one last look at the castle, she gave another curt nod and felt a tug in her navel.
...
"Two sugars please," mumbled Pansy, holding out her cup of steaming black tea with shaking hands.
She had found herself seated in Lucius Malfoy's lavish study, along with Draco, and Narcissa, who was serving tea, always playing the hostess even in such times. Pansy was not surprised. Pureblooded women were raised to do their duty, to act a certain way, to put on a brave face. She wondered how the patriarch Malfoy felt about his wife's betrayal of their Lord, but knew that it was certainly not her place to ask. In the grand scheme of things, it did not matter, for Narcissa had only wanted to save her son's life, a fact that Pansy would never forget.
"Well, charges have not been pressed as of yet," drawled Lucius, tapping his long fingers against the carved oak of his mahogany desk. "Against anyone," he added, turning his gaze to Pansy.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling rather hot.
"Then again," he continued. "Only a few hours have passed. I do not delude myself to believe that trials will not be held once the time is right. However, some of us may be spared if we play our cards right," again he glanced at Pansy. "Now ladies, I believe that recent events must have made you more than exhausted. Narcissa, why don't you show Miss Parkinson here to a guest room."
Having no choice but to follow the order, Pansy stood. She did not want to leave Draco's side, but he gave her a quick half smile before she was ushered out of the study.
...
Draco did not want to be near his father. Sitting alone with him, he felt anger bubble under his skin. A deep fury that the man who should have protected him, instead led him to danger all in the name of blood purity. He felt as if he had aged ten years overnight. His friend was dead, other classmates dead. The sounds and smells of the battle still fresh in the corners of his overactive mind.
"May I be excused as well?" he asked, hoping to bid Pansy a goodnight.
His father did not acknowledge his request. "I hope that you are aware of the fact that bringing Miss Parkinson here was a mistake."
"I-what?"
"She attempted to hand the stupid boy over Draco, surely you know that," he continued in a rather bored tone.
"You attempted worse," Draco bit back before he could stop himself.
His father merely sneered. "The last move matters most son. It's as simple as a game of chess. We were all pawns. What she did was sweet really, and dangerous. You cannot associate with her any longer."
"Are you crazy?" Draco stood up, his pale face turning red. "Associate with her? I'm going to marry her father."
A few moments passed before laughter rang out. "Marry her? Draco, you must be joking. You will never marry Miss Parkinson. You will marry a respectable pureblood witch whose family stayed out of the war. Your girlfriend's father was largely involved with the Dark Lord, we can't have that working against our new image can we?"
Draco was too shocked too speak. How could his father dare pretend to the world that he had changed? How could he discuss marriage to anyone else?
"I will do no such thing," Draco spoke before spinning to walk away.
He grabbed the handle of the door, but it would not turn.
"Not so fast Draco, sit down now. If you care about her at all."
Draco did as he was told, wishing that he would of never brought them here. They should have run far away, to America, or maybe Africa.
"You will do as I say. As luck would have it, your mother's bold move most likely will save this family from prison. I still have contacts Draco, friends in the Ministry. Pansy doesn't have anyone, I could set the motion in place to ruin her life," he paused. "Or, if you end contact with her, I could possibly make sure that she does not end up in prison."
Draco thought of Pansy. Of her beautiful, delicate face, slender body, haunting eyes. Of the way that she had evolved over the past year. The way that they had clung to each other, and fell in love. He imagined not being able to be with her, and nearly thought that his throat would close up. Then, he imagined her being thrown into Azkaban, and withering away.
The choice was clear.
"What do I need to do?" he asked his father.