Chapter One

It was a new world order.

With the Dark Lord's return, Cedric Diggory's death, and Potter's ostracism, a change was brewing that Pansy could feel deep within her bones. Looking around the school now… she could see it clear as day.

But no matter what happened; she held the knowledge that she was safe.

Whether it be from the purity of her blood, her Slytherin heritage and sensibilities, or her engagement to Draco whose father was a member of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle… She could expect to come out of this war completely unscathed.

The feeling of security was like a badge of honor to her. Worn like her prefect pin or the new Inquisitor medal that daft pink toad from the Ministry had given to many of the Slytherins.

Though this badge was unseen by many.

The lower class, the blood traitors, the Mudbloods…

They went through their boring, predictable days thinking that they were safe. Thinking that their pitiful headmaster would be back to save them.

Pansy let an outward sneer cross her face as she continued to ignore the pointless Herbology lesson. No one had ever been there for her. Not during the ridicule, the beatings, the constant pressure. Why should anyone be there for any of them? Why couldn't they all just learn to rely on themselves?

That's what she had learned to do after all. And it was a much harsher lesson than anything this stupid school could teach them.

When she heard her name being repeated called, she looked up and realized that the pudgy Hufflepuff twat had asked her something. Pansy plastered on one of her sweetest, saccharine smiles before giving out an answer that she knew was incorrect but could have cared less about.

Her father always told her Herbology was for the weak anyways. Those who didn't want to embrace the real power of magic by hiding behind bloody plants. Pathetic…

And whatever her father said was immediately as much of a law as whatever the Ministry decreed. At least to her. As it was in most pureblood families.

Her entire life had already been planned out, start to finish, by Peverell Parkinson.

Finish school, as was expected of her, with decent grades because Parkinson's would not be considered illiterate or idiotic. Marry Draco and bear him a suitable heir. Preferably a male, otherwise she would just bring shame to the family like her mother had for only producing a girl. Project an image of the perfect pureblood lady. Raise her children with the same ideals and treatment that she had been forced to endure. And always remember her duty to her husband.

It wasn't particularly complicated, she supposed.

She didn't have to worry about a future career as many of her so-called "peers" were beginning to do. She would never worry about financial troubles or having to make "ends meet."

She didn't even have to worry about finding herself a good husband. She and Draco had been engaged since before they could even walk.

Many pureblood families still followed the tradition of arranged marriages. Blacks, Malfoys, Notts, Goyles. And while they didn't always start so young, her father had insisted upon it.

He was a power hungry man who wanted as much influence as he could muster for himself. And while he hadn't directly joined the Dark Lord, he wanted an in. And that required having an alliance with a member of the Inner Circle.

And the best way to make an alliance? Marriage.

Thus, her and Draco became a means of power for both of their fathers. Two children barely a week apart in age. It was almost fate, really.

Almost.

Despite her hardened outward appearance and personality, Pansy still thought of herself as a romantic deep down inside. Not the flouncy, bimbo kind of girl who wanted a different romance every other week like the Greengrass girl.

No… Pansy wanted a hurricane. She wanted it to be fast and rough with constant struggles and dynamic issues. But then also calm and passionate when it needed to be.

She wanted someone to sweep her off her feet.

Almost like a knight in shining armor if anyone even still believed in that drabble.

But no one that was perfect. Never perfect. Pansy herself wasn't perfect so she definitely didn't want her partner to be either. It would cause too many negative emotions inside of her. Too much jealousy.

And though Draco was indeed far from perfect… He wasn't the slightest bit romantic. Or even her type really. Most of the Slytherin girls loved and fawned over his silky blonde hair and pouting lips but Pansy thought he looked more like a ferret. Which mostly had stemmed from him comparing her to a pug in their first year but she had already gotten her revenge for that.

But her biggest problem with Draco was that he was always too preoccupied with bloody Potty and his gaggle of idiots. Which meant he would rarely pay Pansy, his fiancée who he's known about now for almost two years, any time at all.

Except of course when he needed something.

"Pansy, do this Charms homework for me. I need to figure out what Saint Potter's been up to lately. He's been far too quiet for my taste."

"Pansy, go trail Granger for me. Report back everything she so much as sneezes on. We need to figure out what the Gryffindors have been up to."

"Pansy, I've had a hard day obsessing over Potter and his band of buffoons. Give me a back rub."

And Merlin help her… She did it. It was her duty after all. That much had been engrained into her brain since childhood. She would be his wife someday and knew that she had to get used to it.

Even if there were days when she could just wring his thin, fragile little neck.

They were still friends though. Had been since infancy, she figured. And even after the added knowledge of their engagement, neither had begun to change their roles in the group dynamic.

Apart from catering to his every whim more than usual.

But Pansy could live with that. It was a small price to pay. And it wasn't like there was anything she could do about it. Draco was her future husband and nothing would be changing that.

Her father would absolutely forbid even the mention of it. And what daddy wants. Daddy gets.

Pansy sat sitting, wide eyed as one of her families many owls, as she received the news of what had really occurred at the Department of Mysteries. Everything the Ministry released had been utter garbage, she knew that much. But it wasn't until she returned home for summer break that she learned the truth.

And what that truth entailed for her future.

Lucius Malfoy was now in Azkaban for his part in the debacle. But worse than that, he was out of the Dark Lord's favor due to his failure. Which meant that the entire Malfoy family was now in disgrace over his mistake.

"Well we can't very well have you marry that boy now," her father had angrily spat as they sat at the dinner table her first night home. "I've already called it off. Burned the contract as well and returned the gifts that had solidified the blasted agreement."

Some disgustingly aged wine that would never be consumed and an ugly vase? Pansy didn't think it was that much of a loss personally. But she was concerned about what this meant for her now.

And Draco… Poor Draco had nothing to do with this and yet he was facing the consequences as much as his father was.

But she kept her emotions hidden. Safety tucked away with the rest. She couldn't risk angering her father even more. He was still fuming from having to break the marriage alliance.

Not that it affected him as much as his daughter. But she knew damn well not to say that out loud. It had taken her ages to properly get rid of that black eye the last time he had given her one.

"Now all that's left is to find someone else," her father continued, taking a drink from his glass as he stared off in thought. Her mother usually just sat quietly next to him but apparently she decided that maybe she should help him think of a new suitor for her daughter.

"There's other boys in her year that could be suitable," the quiet, rarely heard voice said. Pansy thought about the others in her years and resisted the urge to recoil in disgust. Draco had been the only decent one and even that was her being generous.

Her father hummed thoughtfully as he spoke to himself aloud, "Well there's Crabbe and Goyle… though neither of those two could be trusted to produce intelligent heirs. Too much inbreeding in their families."

Pansy couldn't agree more.

"Zabini's always been a wild card and she doesn't have close ties to the Dark Lord. Nott could do, I suppose. In a pinch at the very least."

The quiet boy who liked to play dark magic with small creatures and was most likely playing for the other team? Pansy would rather take a hundred Crucio's than be subjected to that future ridicule.

"What about Flint?" Her father asked suddenly, looking at Pansy expectantly since she would know him better than he would. "A good family, strong ties to the Dark Side, and the boy's already been recruited. He could work his way to the Inner Circle before you finish school."

"He resembles an ogre," Pansy replied reproachfully. "And he's about as smart as one too."

Her father growled under his breath in frustration. "Inbreeding again? What is it with English wizards and their inability to remain pure? Either the gene pool weakens or it's polluted with disgusting Muggles…"

Pansy had enough sense to keep her mouth shut about the fact that her father's aunt had married a Muggleborn so the Parkinson's were not exactly all pure either.

"It must be a pure family," her father insisted. "The less tainted, the better."

"Perhaps a family from outside of Britain," her mother suggested and Pansy glanced up at that suggestion. France and Bulgaria were the closest wizarding countries. And they were bound to have someone she didn't completely hate.

"Anything but America. Bloody Yankees," she heard her father mumble to himself as he continued to weigh his options. Pansy kept her mouth shut and merely pushed some food around on her plate. She hadn't gotten the opportunity to pick out her first husband. But… perhaps she could have a little more leniency with this next one.

She didn't want to be stuck in a loveless marriage. Or worse…

"We could take a vacation to France," her mother suggested and Pansy almost liked the idea. She could get away from Britain for a while. See something new. Meet other pureblood families. Maybe even meet her future husband.

If it wasn't for the knowledge that her parents would also be going and would likely not let her go out by herself, she would've been thrilled at the prospect.

"France doesn't have close ties to the Dark Lord, Marianne. I need that in. We need the protection," he stressed. Pansy tried to recall if any pureblood families had roots in France and could only think of the Blacks and Malfoys.

Neither of which her father found suitable anymore.

"Bulgaria may have a few more prospects. Durmstrang has a good reputation with the Dark Arts. I could always look there," her father continued, looking pensively at the table in front of him.

Pansy remembered the Durmstrang boys from her fourth year and sighed quietly. They hadn't been all that impressive to her. Krum had been the best but he was tainted as well. Anyone who willing took a dirty Mudblood to a ball was not right in the head.

"Or…" She heard her father suddenly proclaim. She looked up and saw the glint in his eyes that meant he had come to a conclusion. "Russia," he added vaguely.

Russia? Pansy knew that there was a large number of wizards in the large country but what did that have to do with the Dark Side?

Her confusion must have shown on her face because her father scoffed at her ignorance before explaining to her, "Dolohov, you daft girl. Antonin Dolohov is a pureblood wizard who hails from Russia."

"So?" She questioned hesitantly, not knowing if it would upset the man or not.

"He's still a bachelor last time I checked," her father said urgently before conjuring a piece of parchment and quill.

"If he is… Then we have our in," he continued, writing furiously as he did. "A respected member of the Inner Circle, an only child and heir to his family's fortune and name… He would have to be insane to reject the prospect of a Sacred Twenty-Eight bride."

Oh no, Pansy was not considered a lovely bride or even a fair bride… Just a member of the bloody Sacred Twenty-Eight…

Despite this though… she had no clue who this man was. All the information she had was just provided to her by her father.

Questions began buzzing around in her head; Who was he? What did he look like? What kind of man was he? Would she even want to marry him?

Because at the rate her father was moving… She really wasn't going have a choice.