A/N: I actually started this in 2005. I know I should be ashamed (and I am, I really, really am). All the chapters previously posted on LJ have been heavily revised, there's a brand new chapter and one more to come.


Why Parvati Patil Must Die

Draco was trying his very best to look nonchalant (a little difficult from his current position on tippy toes). He craned his neck trying to see over the heads of the crowd. At least he was looking in the opposite direction to everyone else, surely that implied a certain amount of indifference.

Where the bloody hell was he?

Draco had fully expected to find the sad git sitting in the front row, straining at the leash to catch a glimpse of his "hero".

Pathetic.

Now that they had kissed (over your dead, mutilated body, Potter) and made up, he would have thought that Weasley would be right there front and centre, eagerly leading the cheers for the four-eyed bastard.

So, where the fuck was he? Not that Draco gave a flying fuck, of course. Weasley could rot in hell for all he cared.

Draco stood on a bench and tried to jump up and down inconspicuously. Thankfully, everyone else was so intent on events off to his right, that they scarcely noticed his presence at the back of the stand.

Bastards. How dare they not notice him.

Oh, to hell with this.

Stepping down from the bench, Draco strode purposefully through the crowd, shoving aside anyone smaller than himself with a sneer, until finally he was standing on the grass.

Right, where to now?

He scowled in the direction of the biggest crowd. Fuck that. No way was he going to look interested in anything to do with Scarhead. Besides, Weasley wouldn't be there, students weren't allowed that close to the competitors. Draco suddenly realised that he hadn't seen the Mudblood either. If they were off doing anything mucky together he'd – he'd – well, he wouldn't be happy. And, he'd fucking make sure no one else was either.

Suddenly, Draco noticed a cluster of Gryffindors standing around at the foot of one of the other stands. Longbottom was there and that Irish cretin, Finnigan. Maybe they knew where the Weasel was.

Draco made his way quickly around the back of the stand and ducked under the benches. As he drew closer he began to make out what they were saying.

"– seen him. He wasn't at breakfast."

That was Longbottom. Did he mean Weasley?

"If he doesn't hurry up, he's going to miss the start."

One of those Patil chits, Draco never could remember which was which.

Just then, the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan walked over to join the group.

"Hey, have you heard?" Jordan asked. "Cedric has to rescue Cho Chang."

What was he talking about? Was that the next task? And why Chang?

"What about Harry? Is it Hermione? How romantic!" Lavender Brown sighed loudly.

Draco rolled his eyes, stupid cow.

"I thought he liked Cho."

Longbottom this time, confused as usual.

Draco was close enough now to peek out from behind the canvas folds.

"You're both wrong." Dean Thomas panted as he came to a halt in front of the others. Leaning over, hands on knees, he tried to catch his breath.

Come on, come on never mind breathing just fucking hurry up and tell us. Draco had a sudden feeling of foreboding.

Thomas stood up straight. Staring for a moment at his friends' expectant faces he let out a nervous giggle.

"It's – er – Ron."

Oh, that was just great! It was always the fucking same. Every year Potter dragged his Weasel into some sort of mortal danger. Draco swore he was going to crucify that four-eyed bastard for this.

"Bloody hell."

"You're joking."

"I don't get it."

The twins were frowning at each other, probably worried for their brother (and possibly a little concerned as to why it was Ron that Harry would be rescuing).

Jordan's reassuring voice cut into Draco's thoughts. "Well, come on guys, it makes sense. They are best friends."

The two Weasley boys sighed and nodded in agreement.

Two feet behind them Draco frowned. There was something about this that was making his teeth itch.

"Yeah but –" Finnigan glanced almost apologetically at the twins. "Well, it's just that Cedric has to rescue Cho and Krum Hermione –"

"No! Oh, how romantic!"

"Oh, shut up, Lavender!" The Irish boy threw her a withering look. "I mean –" and again he glanced almost sheepishly at the Weasleys, as if he wasn't sure how they would feel about his next words. "If everyone has to rescue someone they fancy – well –"

WHAT?

Several minutes of awkward silence followed.

"Who has Fleur got to rescue?"

Draco had no idea who had said it but he could have kissed them (well, unless it was Longbottom in which case he would settle for a handshake). Yeah, who did the French tart have to rescue? Oh, please let it be Hagrid, let it be Hagrid.

There was a moment when everyone just looked at everyone else and then Finnigan ran off toward the distant crowd.

The twins stared at the floor. Longbottom looked over at Thomas who shrugged one shoulder before sitting down on the grass. Patil and Brown shuffled closer to each other giggling and whispering in that annoying way girls did. And Jordan stuck his hands in his pockets, looked up at the sky and began to whistle quietly.

Draco turned his attention to more important matters – practising the killing curse on a snail he'd spotted crawling up the side of the stand (in his mind's eye it wore round glasses and had a lightening scar on its forehead).

Shortly, Finnigan came back, out of breath but grinning. Of course, this being Finnigan that grin could mean anything, so no one heaved a sigh of relief just yet. And frankly some people (surrounded by a growing number of non-moving molluscs) began to feel decidedly ill. Never trust a grinning Gryffindor (especially an Irish one).

"Her little sister," Finnigan gasped out.

Weasley One (buggered if Draco could tell one from the other) punched Weasley Two in the arm grinning. "Never doubted him for a minute," he said with a wink.

Longbottom and Thomas just shook their heads smiling happily.

Patil and Brown on the other hand looked decidedly disappointed.

Finnigan frowned and looked behind the twins. "Um, did anyone else hear a crunching noise?" He asked.

Everyone shook their heads.

"I must have imagined it." Finnigan shrugged.

Draco was doing a victory dance (massacring a few more snails in the process). Ha, screw you, Potter! He knew the Weasel would have better taste than to choose that ugly little squirt.

"You know, that really doesn't mean anything," Patil said, looking really rather pleased with herself, she winked and grinned at Brown.

The boys turned as one and glared at her.

"And exactly what is that supposed to mean?" Weasley One spat.

Draco, in mid skip, nearly fell over as he realised that the ginger prat had spoken his own exact thoughts. Patil would die for this. It was bad enough she was implying an unhealthy relationship between his Weasel and that mutant, but to add insult to injury, she was now also making Draco think like a Weasley. Really, death was too good for her.

"Well," the dark haired girl continued, "Fleur is a foreign student. Maybe she doesn't have a romantic interest here. Perhaps she has a boyfriend back at home."

A thoughtful silence followed.

Again, Finnigan frowned and looked towards the stand behind them. "Did anyone else hear a thud?"

Everyone shrugged.

Draco was banging his head against a post. Oh, yes, come the revolution and Patil would be the first up against the wall.

"Wait! What about Roger Davies?" Longbottom blurted out.

Six pairs of hope filled eyes turned his way; two pairs glared.

"Fleur went to the Yule ball with him."

Brown looked to Patil in desperation. Her friend looked momentarily nonplussed and then a slow smile spread across her face. "That," she said smugly, "was one date. I heard this was what they would miss most."

There was a silent pause. Then Finnigan looked up triumphantly. "Ah, but Krum only had one date with Hermione. So, your theory is a load of bollocks!"

Weasley Two reached over and patted the Irishman on the shoulder. "Nice one, Seamus."

Draco grinned; he really might have to amend his opinion of that nice Irish chap.

Brown and Patil exchanged pitying looks.

"Are you honestly comparing Viktor Krum's love life with that of Fleur Delacour?" Brown asked shaking her head sadly.

The boys exchanged worried glances.

Merlin, she had a point.

"So," Longbottom was the first to recover. "Ron is what Harry would miss most?" He spoke very slowly and very carefully.

"Oh, how romantic!"

"I swear to God, Lav, if you don't shut up I'll –" Finnigan paused, "Did anyone else hear a… growl?"

They all shook their heads.

Shaking his own head, Finnigan continued with a frown. "So, Harry has to rescue Ron from the bottom of the lake, within the next hour, or risk losing what he would miss the most?"

Exchanging worried glances, the twins suddenly seemed to realise that perhaps there was more at stake here than their little brother's reputation. Weasley Two turned to the others and asked anxiously, "Where's Harry now?"

Several people took a sudden intense interest in the floor; clearly no one wanted to meet the brothers' fearful stares.

Finally, Longbottom looked up nervously. "No one's seen him."

"Fuck!" The Weasleys responded together and without any further words set off at a run, Lee Jordan following not far behind.

Thomas shared a swift, concerned look with Finnigan and then headed after them.

Brown and Patil looked on the brink of tears, probably regretting their earlier teasing now.

And so they bloody should, Draco thought furiously. Oh Merlin, Draco felt like he was going to vomit. This couldn't be happening. Not again.

Dumbledore wouldn't allow any real danger to befall anyone.

It was the unspoken commandment at the school, the unspoken decree, infallible. Draco found himself clinging to that now.

"Dumbledore wouldn't –" Brown didn't finish the sentence. She grabbed hold of Patil's hand and they both ran towards the growing crowd at the edge of the lake.


Pansy strolled towards the lake. Frankly, she didn't understand what all the fuss was about – Triwizard Tournament – big deal. Now what the school really needed was a fashion show. A few hunky male models, throw in a few bottles of glistening body oil and some skimpy swimwear…

Just then, she spotted Crabbe and Goyle and hurried over to find out the latest news on the Second Task. It would really cheer Draco up if Potter managed to get himself mangled up a bit this time.

"Pansy!" Goyle grinned. "Have you heard? Potter's got an hour to rescue Weasley from the bottom of the lake or his best mate's squid meat." He turned to exchange a grin with Crabbe. "And the useless prat hasn't even turned up yet!"

Crabbe joined in with his laughter.

"Buggery hell, where's Draco?" Pansy asked appalled.

"Probably off celebrating. Or –" Goyle turned to nudge his friend in the stomach, "maybe he's off somewhere sitting on – wait for it – Potter!"

Crabbe snorted loudly. "Ah, good one, Greg! D'you get it, Pansy? Potter! Draco's sitting on Potter to make sure he can't rescue Weasley. Ha ha, good one!"

Pansy shook her head and rolled her eyes. These two really shouldn't be allowed out alone. Just then, a ripple of excitement ran through the waiting crowd. Pansy strained to see over those in front.

It was Potter. He'd finally arrived.


Seamus had slumped onto the grass and now sat with his head in his hands, Neville was leaning against the stand. Neither of them felt inclined to watch the other competitors.

Where was Harry?

Neville spoke first. "He will turn up, won't he, Seamus?"

The Irish boy looked up at his worried friend. He knew Neville needed reassurance but how could he give it when Seamus needed it too, perhaps even more than Neville? A noise behind them distracted them both.

"I am not going mad, that was definitely a thump." Seamus jumped up and ducked behind the canopy.

"Bloody hell!"

Filled with trepidation at the sound of a clearly shocked Seamus, Neville took a deep breath and followed him.

"Blimey!"


Pansy frantically pushed her way through the crowds of students. She had to find Draco quickly before he did something silly. The crowds thinned out and she finally made it to the last stand. Shit, where was he? Maybe he'd gone back to his room. Pansy had just turned and begun to walk away when she heard raised voices coming from behind the canvas canopy.

"What are we going to do with him now?"

"Buggered if I know."

Pansy frowned. Irish? Finnigan?

"You'll fucking release me that's what you'll do, you buck toothed imbecile."

Well, it seemed that Pansy had found the little darling after all.

Pansy lifted the edge of the canopy and walked inside. The sight that greeted her was something of a surprise and not without its amusing aspects. The corners of her mouth twitched.

Draco was flat on his back on the floor, obviously trapped in a full Body Bind (well, nearly full). Finnigan and Longbottom were standing about three feet away, wands clutched tightly in their hands, looking frantically from Draco to each other. Pansy suspected that they were beginning to regret not binding Draco's mouth too.

Clearly a woman's touch was required.

"Ahem, am I interrupting something boys?"

The two Gryffindors spun around at the sound of her voice but before they could respond an angry voice cut in.

"You will get me out of this NOW!" Draco was glaring from her to the terrified Gryffindors, struggling ineffectually to release himself from the spell. "Then, I can kill these two bastards before hunting down Potter and dismembering him inch by inch. Oh, but before that, of course, I have to go down to the lake to watch them bring Weasley's lifeless – " his voice choked on a sob " – body to the surface."

And to everyone's utter horror Draco started to cry.

Pansy got out her wand and waved it at the stricken boy with a roll of her eyes. Draco was such a drama queen.

Realising that the demented Slytherin was now free of the Bind, Longbottom and Finnigan quickly took refuge behind Pansy, wands raised in shaking hands.

Ah, the famous Gryffindor bravery. Pansy shook her head and ignoring Draco who was now pacing anxiously back and forth, sniffling and mumbling under his breath, she turned to the boys cowering behind her.

"What happened?" She asked, although she had a pretty good idea.

The duo exchanged nervous glances and then Longbottom looked at Pansy and said, "Well, we found him back here and he seemed a bit er – overwrought."

Finnigan threw him an exasperated look and blurted out, "He was acting like a fucking maniac is what he was doing." He paused as if thinking about what he'd just said. "Well, more of a fucking maniac than usual."

They all turned to look at Draco. He was continuing his frantic pacing and mumbling continuously, the occasional word emerging ("bastard" and "mutilate" being a couple of the more memorable ones). Finnigan and Longbottom drew a little further behind Pansy, wands gripped tighter.

"We had to put the Body Bind on him to stop him from jumping in the lake," Longbottom explained. "And er –" he went on hesitatingly "– um – we also think that he might – er – well – erm –"

"We think he fancies Ron!" Finnigan blurted with a nervous twitch of his eye.

"Right."

When Pansy seemed neither surprised nor appalled, the two boys stared wide-eyed at each other.

Sighing and shaking her head, Pansy walked over to her distraught friend.

"Draco, dear," she said softly, trying to get his attention. "Look at me."

But Draco continued to pace. As he walked past, Pansy reached out and grabbed an ear.

"Aah!" Draco yelped as he tried to twist out of her hold. But Pansy was stronger than she looked and had also had a lot of practise at this (Slytherin boys were notoriously lax when it came to giving her due care and attention).

"Now, Draco, you are going to stand still and listen to what I have to say." She leaned in close to speak into the abused ear. "Do I make myself clear?" And Pansy gave it an extra tug for emphasis.

Draco could only nod in response, wincing at the added strain this put on his rapidly reddening lobe. Pansy released him and placed her hands on her hips. Draco rubbed at his ear, glaring at her. Pansy knew that look well (clearly his earlier distress had been forgotten in favour of plotting her grisly demise).

"So, care to explain yourself?" She asked, smiling sweetly at the furious boy.

But her words seemed to remind him of why he was in such a state and Draco's eyes widened in horror.

"Potter – Ron – lake," he stuttered out. "Shit. And stupid bastard Scarhead isn't even here. And – and – in an hour –"

Draco's voice gave out and he brushed his hands through his hair in total despair.

Pansy winced. Oh, fuck. It was worse than she thought – Draco had just willingly messed up his hair. This was about to get very nasty.

Slowly, she reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. "There now, Draco. It'll be okay."

Draco looked up, tears in his eyes and then with a loud sob, threw himself into her arms.

Oh hell, very, very nasty indeed.

She rolled her eyes at the stunned Gryffindors still cowering in the corner. They were watching the whole scene in obvious fascination and not a little horror; as if they couldn't quite believe what they were seeing and hearing.

Pansy was patting Draco's head now and making soothing noises. Suddenly, the sobbing boy looked up. Staring desperately into her eyes he blurted out, "And exactly why is Ron the thing he would miss most?" Then, Draco let out another sob and buried his face into her increasingly sodden shoulder.

Shaking her head, Pansy patted him on the head. "There, there, poor darling." Merlin, she was going to dine out on this for years.

"Listen to me, Draco." And she lifted his head to look at her. Pansy winced again (fuck, if any boy ever reduced her to the pathetic, soggy sight in front of her she'd have to kill him). She brushed the blond fringe out of Draco's still leaking eyes. "Draco sweetie, it's going to be okay. Potter has turned up."

Draco's eyes lit up with anger and he tried to move from her arms. "I'll – I'll –"

Pansy pulled him back by his hair. "You'll do nothing of the sort, otherwise your precious Weasel will die horribly and we wouldn't want that now, would we?"

She patted his head again. "No, I think it best that we let Potter get on with rescuing the ginger bas– darling. And it looks like he might actually pull it off. Seems he's discovered a way to breathe under water. So he'll rescue his – er your little angel and everything will be fine. Oh, yes, and Ron will look all wet and dishevelled," she lifted Draco's head again, "you'll like that, won't you?"

Draco nodded his head, a dreamy, watery smile on his face. Pansy fought the urge to slap him.

Turning to Longbottom and Finnigan, she scowled in disgust at their matching looks of pure horror. "Oh, come on, surely you've seen someone in love before?"

Oh, this was fun. Longbottom looked like he was going to faint, while Finnigan – well that was interesting – looked lost and a little jealous; seems dear Draco might have a rival. Excellent. It would do the arrogant little snot good to have to work for something for a change.

"Right, help me get him back to the Slytherin common room," Pansy ordered. "I don't think it will do him any good to stay down here for the next hour."

But before either boy could make any response, Draco pulled away from her. Running the back of his hands across his eyes, he took a deep breath and said, "No, I'm – I'm fine now. I want to stay. I have to know he's okay." Then, drawing himself up to his full height, Draco nodded at each of them. "Thank you," he said and walked swiftly out from under the canopy.

The two remaining boys and Pansy exchanged a quick look of understanding and followed him.


Draco had somehow managed to keep it together for the past fifty minutes or so.

Pansy kept throwing him concerned looks, ready to restrain him by any means necessary if he looked likely to throw himself into the water. She noticed that Longbottom and Finnigan had been casting equally concerned glances his way.

When Cedric's head had emerged from the water earlier, she'd held her breath with everyone else, amazed to find she was hoping, maybe even praying, that it would be Potter. Draco had borne it remarkably well, although if she was Diggory she wouldn't chance being alone with the blond any time soon.

As Krum and Hermione had surfaced, she'd reached out a protective arm to her best friend. Draco had turned and looked at her with wild, tortured eyes but had stood his ground. Pansy had never loved him more.


It was now long past the allotted hour and the crowd was growing increasingly restive, eyes drawn ever more in Dumbledore's direction. The silver haired headmaster sat, unperturbed, wearing his usual air of mild amusement.

So it was okay then. Dumbledore wasn't worried so they shouldn't be.

The minutes ticked by. Draco was standing as close to the water's edge as he dared, eyes trained on the ground at his feet.

A ripple on the surface of the water – the watching crowd strained to see – false alarm.

Draco bit his lip and clenched his fists. I've got to get through this. He will be okay. He has to be okay. Please let him be okay.

A sudden gasp from the watching crowd.

A cheer, low at first but growing rapidly as it spread.

Draco finally looked up.

And there he was.

Looking wet and dishevelled.

And Pansy was right.

Draco did like it.

Before Pansy could react Draco was gone.


The first Ron knew about it – the first anyone knew about it – was when Malfoy crashed into him, sending them both splashing back into the cold water.

When the redhead resurfaced a few seconds later it was with a blond Slytherin attached to his lips.

It received a mixed reception.

"Oops…" Pansy whispered and slunk back up to the castle.