To Pansy Parkinson, sixth year had a permanent, eerie feeling. With the Dark Lord returning, there was a massive panic and a strict sense of security everywhere she went in the hallways. Whether it be by Aurors, teachers, or her fellow prefects, it was unnecessary. At least to her. She wasn't worried about being attacked due to her blood status and views on Muggle-borns and 'half-bloods.' So, the security seemed a bit--nay quite—unnecessary, especially with it already being near top notch without the Aurors—or the dementors they had in her third year. Even within her own House, there was a different vibe she got when around anyone.
The one specific person she noticed a change in was Draco Malfoy. He didn't seem to be his usual self, which was acceptable because of his father being sent to Azkaban by a fellow classmate, but a few others had dealt with the same issue as well. She thought she had the bare essentials with just that widely known fact. However, there had to be something more. No bullying? No witty remarks? No excessive pride? It was bizarre, to say the least. She'd eye him skeptically throughout dinner and during Quidditch… whenever he actually decided to Seek. He wasn't even trying to stay healthy or try to have a reason to boast about something. It was as if he was in a daze.
One night, she was just too curious. She, having pretended to have fallen asleep on one of the sofas in front of the fireplace, had waited a moment until after he'd left the common room before following him. Whilst walking, she crept in the darkest shadows of the halls. When he'd turn and look around, she'd try to hide behind columns, suits of armor, tapestries, the deepest depths of the shadows, whatever she could find.
By the time she had stumbled in the middle of the hall, she was infuriated for having to walk so much and still had no explanation about what had been going on. This had been one of the times he had frantically turned around, so she scurried to the wall and next to a suit of armor, hitting the wall with a little more force than she would've liked. She cursed under her breath, but froze when he called out into the near vacant hallways.
She cursed under her breath again. Should she show herself or not?
The decision was obvious.
Pansy stepped away from the wall, rubbing her forehead and squinting to get a clear picture of her classmate. After a moment she lowered her hand to her side. "Wandering the halls at night? Not to mention how worried you appear to be. One would think that you're up to something," she said coolly, examining her nails and quickly glancing up at him. "What exactly are you doing anyway?"
Pansy watched him closely for any sign of fear or anything else out of character. She frowned when he took a few steps back. What was so bad that he'd find negativity in seeing someone from his own house, let alone someone who he'd once been close to? She couldn't recall a time where he'd felt the need to defend himself.
"What's it to you?" he snapped. However, majority of the venom faded when his voice cracked into a higher octave.
"You have got to be joking. What's it to me? Do you take me as an idiot?" Pansy asked and soon let out a hollow laugh. For a moment, her expression showed concern, but that disappeared as she eyed her prefect badge on her robes. She knew that he probably wouldn't care about some silly sign of teenage authority, authority that he could use as well, but it was worth a try. "We may be in the same house and we may have been friends once upon a time, but that won't stop me from letting something slip," she said with an expression of innocence, "to, say, Dumbledore?—that you're wandering the halls." She wouldn't actually tell anyone, for she hadn't a care in the world if anyone else knew or not about some random middle-of-the-night walk. It's not uncommon for anyone to do so. She just hoped that maybe a mind trick or two would be enough to get him to tell her what was going on or cover the basics, but maybe he caught her bluff? Why would she go to Dumbledore? It's not like she cared for the old, shriveled up prune. "After all, you seem rather defensive," she continued with a raised eyebrow. "And I know that that's not like you."
She tilted her head to the side and decided to take a step forward in hope that he wouldn't back up any further.
"Go to Dumbledore for all I care. The worst he can do is give me detention," he dismissed carelessly.
At his mocking tone, no matter how different it was than it used to be, it still allowed her emotions get the best of her and she scowled. She loathed being treated in such a way, even though that's how she commonly treated others. After a failed attempt of softening her expression, her eyes narrowed. And, for a brief moment, she had almost forgotten why she was there in the first place. Almost.
She wasn't in Slytherin just for her blood status; she was also extremely ambitious.
She cursed under her breath. He knew that her threat was false. She wouldn't go to Dumbledore for anything. Of course he knew that. It was impossible for him not know, considering how close they've been since their first year. Well aware that her threat would have fooled almost anyone else, she forced back a grimace. The only satisfaction she got was when he didn't take a step back and she really didn't notice him leaning a little away from her as if he was really going to step further back, but that satisfaction was brief.
His behavior was completely uncharacteristic. She knew he was one to prove that he was the best at everything, but the year so far, it was like he didn't try, he was just there, which was a detail that seemed to nag at her. The only thing she could do for now was assume what was going on.
Her assumptions were rather laughable too since they were so bizarre, but that didn't seem right. So, she eyed him with caution before taking another small step forward.
Surprisingly, what with all the frustration she felt, she was proudly able to keep her voice calm, but still able to obtain a hint of sarcasm. "Yes, yes, you caught me. Congratulations. Let's award you with some treacle tart and forget all this mess." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I'm rather positive that, should a situation call for it, it's more likely for me to visit the headmaster for some type of guidance or whatever rubbish he offers than for you to befriend his favorite pupil."
"Well, go on then. Nothing's stopping you from telling him."
The corner of her mouth twitched. Had it been someone else, she probably would have started to rant. However, she realized that she did have to be more careful in this situation or else she could risk more than just finding out what was going on. The thought made her frown for just a few seconds. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it, having no idea what to say, which was something new to her. She always had a comment for anything and everything, no matter what was going on. She was normally full of shock, confusion, or disappointment, if she didn't have anything to say. In this case, maybe it was all three? She wasn't sure. She let out a soft pout.
But as he turned around and walked off, she found her voice out of annoyance and raised it several decibels so that it carried to him. "Do you honestly think that I'd tell that fool anything? I said that it was more likely for me to tell him something than for you to befriend Potter, not that I would go tell him. It would have to be something rather serious and of high importance to tell Dumbledore something. I don't trust him in a situation such as this. Plus, he's probably eating those lemon drop things and arguing with one of the portraits. I certainly wouldn't want to interrupt that." Her eyebrows furrowed. She thought that he knew she would simply follow him and try to get answers. She scowled and began following him again. "Don't think that I'm going to give up, Malfoy. I'm not one to slip Veritaserum or use an Unforgivable to get what I want. I'm just done with sitting around and not acting like you're not moping around and not up to anything." She scoffed. "I'm not an oblivious idiot like Crabbe or Goyle, you know."
All she wanted was to have the slightest idea as to what he was up to; she didn't care if she got every last detail, though it would be nice if she did. She felt that she'd be more at ease and a lot less curious if she knew the basics. It's not like he's plotting murder, she thought. She grimaced as she recalled the most recent information she knew about him. At the end of their fifth year, his father had been taken to Azkaban and his aunt had avoided a second time there by escaping or something along those lines. But, certainly the former would support the isolation, but that certainly couldn't be the only explanation for what had been going on.
She stumbled a little and stifled a yelp. She stopped in her tracks to glance around. She hadn't heard anything, but searching for Filch or Mrs. Norris was out of instinct. When deemed safe, she continued scurrying down the hallway, making her best attempt to catch up with her…friend?
At this point, she wasn't exactly sure what was transpiring other than a load of stubborn comments from both parties and becoming extremely frustrated.
It was rather difficult to hide her amusement when he had turned around. His irritation was obvious to her. She waited for him to make a comment, watching him closely, curious if he'd yell or sternly confront her. With how he'd been acting, it wouldn't surprise her if he started calmly and started yelling or vice versa, but she did know that he wouldn't give her the answers she wanted. So, she just stood there patiently, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed slightly.
However, when he said nothing, she glanced over her shoulder to see what he saw and why it made him appear panicked. Her eyes widened to the size of galleons at that point. Up until then, there hadn't been any sign of Filch or Mrs. Norris at all, even when she stumbled moments before, nor when she was shouting after her fellow Slytherin. The thought of the secret passage ways and Filch's knowledge of them had completely slipped her mind, which she mentally slapped herself for allowing such a thing to happen.
She stood there frozen in shock as she watched the shadows of the caretaker and his feline companion shuffle around in search of students wandering the halls after hours, something he enjoyed quite a lot, which she understood with her status as a prefect and she basically abused the power she had been given right before fifth year had begun, just like she abused the power of the Inquisitorial Squad when Umbridge was Headmistress. That was also when Filch seemed to be happiest since old punishments had been reinstated under Umbridge's rule. Pansy rolled her eyes as she heard the caretaker muse something to his cat, but the distance muffled the words and she couldn't understand what he had said.
That was until she felt Draco grab her by the wrist and drag her behind him without any warning. She nearly stumbled again while doing her best to keep up. She wasn't very athletic, especially compared to him, nor did she really care if she was, most of the time, but she really wish she had been so that she didn't feel so uncomfortable.
"Look at what you've done!" he hissed.
When they had reached the fourth floor corridor, she was relieved to stop and take a deep breath before straightening up and glaring at her classmate. "Excuse me?" She crossed her arms with a huff as if she was a little kid not getting what they wanted from the store or as a gift. There was no denying that her rambling in throughout the corridors and on the staircase was what drew the suspicion of the caretaker, but she preferred not to admit it. "What I've done? All I wanted was a simple answer as to why you have been acting differently since the start of the school year. I suppose that's just impossible for you to answer." She scoffed, and looked up and down the corridor for any sign of someone on the staff. "Now, since I clearly have irritated you and I won't be finding out anything, I'll just be on my way back to the common room. Detention sounds far more appealing than standing around in the deserted hallway." She frowned as she turned on her heel and walking off in search of a secret passageway that could lead her to the dungeons, mumbling incoherently.
"Can't you see that there is change all around us? It's not safe, yet all you're worrying about is what I've been up to and demanding answers out of me?" he questioned.
She stopped dead in her tracks, feeling the tension in the air and the glare that he sent in her direction. For a moment, she considered retrieving her wand from a pocket within her robes, but what was the point in that? If any spells, jinxes, hexes, or charms were cast, it'd truly draw attention and there would be even more consequences to face, ifthey were caught. It really was not worth the risk. She exhaled deeply, only balling her hands into fists to calm herself down.
She slowly turned around to face her classmate, her eyebrows furrowed and a frown playing at her lips. She couldn't understand what was going on. She had noticed the increase in deaths over the past several months; she recognized many of them as disguised Death Eater attacks. What more was there for her to understand? The only thing that was leaving her dumbfounded was his bizarre behavior, not the Second Wizarding War.
The dissipating anger and increasing frustration his expression showed made her alert, however, and her face fell.
To her, the situation was like a conundrum and it was difficult to piece everything together. It seemed impossible to figure out. Could she deal with not knowing or understanding what was going on? She was accustomed to having everything go her way, which included finding out answers that she wanted to know, but she was on the verge of allowing an exception. After all, they got along well and she should be respecting her privacy, even against her better judgment and defeating her purpose for being out of the common room at such an hour.
"I have noticed change, thanks," she snapped, surprised by how steady her voice was. She smirked inwardly and continued. "What do you mean about all of us demanding answers, though?" She glanced around the corridor with a small hint of sarcasm. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it looks like I'm the only one who has done anything more than just asking why you've been wandering around at night, not eating, and, more or less, just there and do nothing otherwise. It's as if you're a drone of some sort. Have you even stopped to consider that your friends are concerned, not just curious?" Truth be told, she was concerned, but also curious. Where had he been going before she had caught up to him? Absentmindedly, she rubbed her forehead while remembering hitting the wall with an unintended force. She frowned. "What I don't understand is what you've been doing, but I get the hint." She rolled her eyes. "I know you do not want to tell anyone anything."
"Can you not get it through your thick skull that maybe I want to tell you what's been going on, but I simply can't?" His scowl fell into a frown, one that appeared almost apologetic…had she not known him so well. He clearly knew she had silenced him about demanding answers, but she knew just as well that that was her only strong argument. Not that she was going to admit it. She had way too much pride to do so.
A witty comment lingered on the tip of her tongue, but disappeared when she finally got a good look at Draco. The way the moonlight cast through the floor-to-ceiling windows and shone on his already auricomous skin gave him no justice. He looked sickly, gaunt. The dark circles underneath his eyes were evidence of his middle-of-the-night getaways he'd been having for the entire year thus far. She felt pity for him and wanted to help.
That feeling was practically foreign to her. The only time she offered help before was when he had been attacked by the hippogriff in their third year. He had trusted her enough then. Though, clearly he didn't now. He was too proud, like she, to ask for or accept any assistance as far as this secret of his was concerned.
"What?" he mocked. "You don't have anything to say?"
Oh, she had plenty to say, but she didn't deem any appropriate enough to mention in their current situation. Or at least her bewilderment left her speechless. She relied on huffing and crossing her arms. It wasn't intimidating in the least, but it's all that she could fall back on.
"Ah, have I rendered the Pansy Parkinson speechless?" he breathed, mocking excitement. "Why, I do believe I deserve an award."
She began balling her hands into fists once more, but that expression of anger only lasted a short matter of minutes. She took in his appearance yet again. Stressing him any further was now out of the question. Permanently. Well, at least for now. That, unfortunately, included her not discovering his secret. But, she'd rather not know his secret rather than lose him as a friend, acquaintance, whatever they were now.
To prevent any witty comments, she smiled lazily. Of course, sarcasm was like breathing to her… "Congratulations. Enjoy whatever the award is. I'll be going now."
She abruptly turned on her heel and walked off in the direction she believed was the best (and safest) route back to the dungeons. The only sound made was the vague scratching of her slippers against the floor.
"Parkinson."
She came to a halt, her lips curling into a sly smile at his sudden change of heart. She turned her head to the side and looked at her classmate over her shoulder. "Yes?"
His expression showed that he was fearful for whatever was on his mind. His gaze wary. "Follow me."
Before she could respond, he walked in the direction of the staircase. Dumbfounded, yet curious, she followed suit, not even daring to say a word all the way to the seventh floor and in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet.
She looked around frantically in fear that Filch was still lurking around before watching Draco pace up and down the hallway a few times, mumbling something while eyeing the vacant wall opposite the tapestry.
Just as she was about to ask what he was doing, he stopped pacing and stared at the wall expectantly. This confused her even more. Had he gone mental? Had whatever he'd been up to finally pushed him over the edge? Maybe she needed to take him to the infirmary.
That is until she saw a large door gradually appear in front of them. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "The Come…and Go Room?" she managed to utter.
"The Room of Hidden Things," he corrected as he, once again, grabbed hold of her wrist and guided her through the doorway.
"Why the bloody hell would you need to come in here?" she gasped, observing the mess throughout the mysterious, spacious room. "More importantly, how do you know what you're even looking for?"
A growl escaped his throat. "To make a long story short, I have to show you something."
"What?" Her eyebrows raised in curiosity. "You're honestly going to—?"
He spun around, releasing her wrist in the process, and stared down at her. "You have to promise me that you'll keep the following conversation a secret; you can't tell a soul. Better yet, it never happened."
Her mouth grew dry, feeling intimidated by his height and size, but she nodded, incapable of speech temporarily. "O-of course."
Draco closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. It took a matter of minutes, but the sound of rumpling fabric soon echoed in the dead silent room.
Pansy sniffed and eyed him pointedly. He couldn't be serious. There was absolutely no way he could be. Yet, the more closely she studied his face, the more she realized that this wasn't some joke. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if she was about to go for a swim. Her eyes glazed over in pity for her friend.
And then, she glanced down.
There, on his arm, was an image of a skull with a serpent slithering out of its mouth. The Dark Mark. It was inactive, therefore faded, but still in stark contrast to his milk white skin.
She hesitantly traced her right index finger along the outline, afraid of what would happen if she actually touched it. Afraid of how he'd react. Because of this, she glanced him to see what his expression was. He always looked peaceful, though, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and, simply, she thought she would probably feel the same way if she was in his situation.
She smiled softly. "How do you feel?"
"Better," he breathed, mirroring her smile. "It's such a relief to finally have told somebody. You have no idea…"
"Perhaps not, but not everyone walks around the school with…with one of these." She felt his body tense and the guilt rise up in her body. "Sorry…"
"No," he said with a shake of his head, "you're right. I'm the only one other than Professor Snape."
It was common knowledge that their Potions—Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is a former Death Eater. He may still have the Mark, but he switched alliances when they had been infants.
She sighed, the guilt beginning to overwhelm her and the vibe she was getting from him clearly told her 'Shut up and leave.' She withdrew her hand from its gentle tracing on his arm and stepped away. "I better, ah, get back to bed."
His jaw locked and his eyes narrowed. He curtly nodded. "Yes, that'd be best."
The corner of her mouth twitched just before she turned on her heel and began scurrying out of the room. She found that task difficult with all of the rubbish thrown around in the room. She'd stumble around a stack of books and run into some antique furniture.
"And Parkinson?"
She stopped just as she was about to step over some stray sherry bottles. She glanced over her shoulder at him once more. "Yes?"
"Remember this never happened."
"What never happened?" she asked with a smirk.
She didn't hear his reply, if he even had one, she continued her way out of this newly discovered room, finding peace in the small smile that had tugged on the corner of his lips as she left the room.
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A/N: Sorry if this doesn't make the most sense, but I really wanted to post this for some reason. So, yeah…I'd love to know what everyone thinks. Constructive criticism would be fantastic too. :)