Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am merely playing with them while wishing they were mine, especially Draco. Heh heh heh heh...

Plot: Everyone writes Pansy Parkinson as a big, whiny, and ugly brat, but what if she wasn't? In one awful night, she lost her family and hardly anyone understands what she is going through. Well, there is one person, but they hate each other too much to even try. How will Pansy get through the summer and her last year at Hogwarts when the Dark Lord is getting ready for one last strike...

A/N: Dudes! Hey, sorry for the delay. I'm sure you guys understand. Well, here's another chapter. I'm so proud of myself. And Jen nite and Me, thank you for reviewing. I totally appreciate it. So here is Draco's POV. I think I did an okay job, but he might not seem like himself (i.e. a cold Slytherin) and questions might be raised, but what will be will be.

Select Another: Yes, he did rape her, but didn't last long. Pansy's going to be a little withdrawn for now, but who knows what could happen. Am I right? Millicent isn't chubby, but rather...muscular and toned, which paired with layers of clothes makes her look bulky. I think I'll let you stew over the Blaise question. As for the pairings, I really love the Draco/Hermione, Draco/any female. I don't really like slash, but I respect those who put them out. You made my day, you know? 'Like an indie author' is something I never expected. Thank you, thank you!

Lilybee2003: I'm sorry you got depressed, but, yeah, that was the point. Like I said to Select Another, I'll let you stew about Blaise. Work up some suspense, right? No, I'm just evil that way. I'm still 'working him in.' Get it? Just kidding. I'm glad you understand about the whole college thing. I have started to read Pariah on schnoogle and it's so witty. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing in the computer lab.

Helpless

Last time...

"Will she be okay?" he asked quietly.

"I..." For once, words failed Draco. "I don't know. I hope so."

"She's tough. Pansy will beat this." Blaise sounded falsely confident, but Draco didn't say anything about it.

"I'll see you."

"Yeah."

Draco tightened his hold on her and CRACK!

They apparated back to Malfoy Manor.

Chapter Six

He could hear her crying again. Guilt surged through him again. He could not count how many times in the last week that feeling swamped his insides. Anger rode over the guilt just then. Why should he feel guilty? It wasn't his fault what happened.

But it is, a small voice whispered. You knew she would be a target. You knew she was vulnerable. You knew the others would pick up on it.

He could still hear her crying.

"But Voldemort said nothing would harm her," Draco said to his empty bedroom.

What he says is different from what he does. You know that, the voice replied.

He hung his blond head. It was right. He shouldn't have trusted Voldemort when it came to Pansy.

Why was she so important? What was her part in all this?

Draco sighed. She was still crying.

He closed his eyes and once more saw that night.

Pansy was gone. He couldn't find her anywhere. Flint, Higgs, and Nott flagged him down. They wanted to talk about Voldemort's plans regarding the Ministry. Why they had such a sudden interest pricked his awareness. He observed Nott glancing more than once towards the terrace. Flint didn't seem to be in the conversation, like his attention was elsewhere. Higgs was more talkative than usual, way more talkative.

Draco saw Narcissa and made an excuse to talk to her. He had asked if she had seen Pansy, but she hadn't. Suspicion reared its head and he searched the ballroom for Flint and the others. He saw Nott's back as he disappeared onto the terrace. He started after them. Blaise intercepted him.

"Not now, Blaise," he snarled.

"What's going on?" Blaise asked seriously.

"I can't find Pansy anywhere."

"Huh, that's funny. I saw her go outside. That Adrian Pucey followed a minute later. They're not back yet."

Draco felt a sudden chill unlike he had ever known. Something was happening. He pushed passed Blaise, ignoring his friend's question.

Outside on the terrace, a light breeze danced across his warm face. Draco tore off his mask as he scanned the near area. He spotted a darting shadow move into the Zabini maze. He ran down the stairs, a low rumble started in his ears.

"Draco!"

He ignored Blaise as he started after the shadow. If memory served him correctly, there was a gazebo in the heart of the maze, but he couldn't remember the exact location.

"Shit!" He skidded to a halt and Blaise bumped into him, unable to avoid Draco. He turned to Blaise. "Where's the gazebo? I can't remember."

"Why? What's going on?" There was a certain edge to Blaise's voice.

"Pansy. She's in trouble." He looked ahead to the maze's entrance.

"Follow me." Blaise ran into the maze and Draco ran after him.

Almost immediately, they caught up with three figures. Blaise stopped. "Hey! The fuck are you guys doing here?"

Flint turned first, a leering smile on his lips. "Zabini, Malfoy? Come to join the party, have you? You'll have to wait for your turn, though."

The pit of his stomach started to churn and Draco suddenly found it hard to breathe. "What do you mean, Flint?" he grounded out.

"Pucey's breaking her in for us," Nott said. There was a piercing scream to stop from the gazebo behind them. Flint and Higgs laughed cruelly. Draco looked at the shadowy structure.

The rumbling became a steady roar. He didn't hear himself ask, "Her?"

Nott smirked. "Parkinson. Of course, I think you already might have had a sample what with her living with you—"

He saw his fist hit Nott in the nose. Blood splattered everywhere. Panic thudded painfully in his chest. Nott cried out and grabbed at his nose as he fell on his ass.

"What the hell?" he yelled. Draco drew back his foot, momentarily grateful he had worn boots instead of slippers like his mother wanted, and kicked as hard as he could. Nott screamed and grabbed at his stomach.

"Malfoy—" Flint was cut off when tackled by Blaise, leaving Higgs to Draco.

Draco also tackled the former Slytherin as Higgs struggled to draw his wand. Higgs hit the ground hard and Draco straddled him. He slammed a fist into Higgs' face.

"Malfoy—" SMACK! "—what are you—" POW! "—doing?" Higgs asked between punches. "It's only Parkinson."

That made him even angrier. Why did everyone always say 'It's only Parkinson'? He kept on hitting and didn't stop until he heard her scream again.

"PANSY!" Draco shot up off of Higgs and ran towards the gazebo. The distance seemed like miles. Time slowed.

Please, oh please, please let her be okay. Draco reached the stairs and stopped dead.

There she was. Tears stained her face and her hair was every which way.

Oh please.

Pucey was behind her, gripping her by the hips. Pucey saw him, smirked, and tipped his head towards him before thrusting.

Pansy screamed. Her eyes shut tight.

Red clouded his vision. All Draco saw was Pucey. Wand drawn, Draco bellowed, "IMPEDIMENTIA!"

Pucey flew back and crashed against the wall, leaving spider web cracks in the stone. Draco raced passed Pansy and drew up Pucey by the collar. He slammed his fist in Pucey's stomach again and again. Then he started on Pucey's face taking savage delight in the way his rings cut into the other's face.

He dropped Pucey to the floor and started to kick the shit out of him. Rage at being betrayed by one of his own was nothing to the immense guilt he felt, that deep despair knowing he had failed in protecting what was his. When he felt Pucey's ribs snap, he growled deep in his throat in satisfaction.

Then he heard her say his name.

"Draco, you must do something to—" his mother stopped. Then she asked, "Why are there feathers everywhere? Is that your pillow?"

He opened his eyes and took in his room. White feathers on the floor, on the bed, in the bookshelves, how did they get there? Then he looked down at his hands. His pillow was clenched between his hands. It was limp.

Draco dropped it. Then he turned to Narcissa. "What's wrong?"

"It's Pansy. I can't get her to stop crying."

He listened and heard her. He put his hands on his face wishing he had watched over her rather than having fast sex with some princess in one of the back rooms. He had failed. Draco took her in, knowing some of her pain, but he told her it was for the sake of the family name.

He had worried about her in the days before the ball and now it was worse. On top of that, Blaise had owled him saying Pucey had gone before daybreak. His friend's words expressed a sincere regret for not killing him right then and there.

"What do you expect me to do, Mother? She won't even open her door to me," Draco said after dropping his hands to his hips.

Narcissa sank into one of the chairs by the fireplace. "How could this happen, Draco?"

"I know."

They stared at each other for the longest time before Draco started towards the door. He opened it silently and looked at Narcissa. She was staring into the fire. He turned away and walked down the hall to Pansy's room.

She was crying, but not as loud as before.

It tore at his heart and he wished he could make it all better, but he couldn't. He had tried that night when they came back.

"Pansy, you're home," he whispered.

"I have no home," she replied listlessly. Her pale face was blank, emotionless.

He carried her to her room and set her on the bed. Merlin, she looked awful and it was his entire fault. She probably wants a shower, he thought.

Draco started pulling at the limp wings on her back and tossed them aside. He pulled the ribbons and pins from her hair. He hesitated at touching her costume.

"Pans, I—you have to take off your costume." Draco touched her shoulder lightly and she jerked away. Her eyes flickered with some emotion he did not know and she grabbed a handful of her costume and tugged. The fragile fabric tore easily and he looked away to give her some privacy. He had grabbed a robe and held it out to her. She didn't take it.

He chanced a quick glance and caught sight of her going into the bathroom. He heard the shower going. He went over and tossed the robe onto the sink. Draco went back to the bed, not quite wanting to leave just yet. Then he heard the scream.

Draco ran into the bathroom and found her sobbing wildly in the tub, curled into a ball. Her normally pale skin was pink and he could see that she had scrubbed herself raw. Her blond hair, darkened by water, was plastered to her head and body. He could see bruises forming on her arms and body.

With a curse, he shut the shower off. Draco draped a towel over her and raised her out of the tub as gently as he could. Her hair dripped over the front of his costume, but he didn't care.

He carried her back to the bed and went back into the bathroom for another towel after wrapping the other one around her body. Then he sat on the bed next to her and rubbed her hair dry as she cried. He stood to get another towel when Pansy grabbed at him.

"Don't leave me. Don't leave me." The words sounded hoarse coming from her. She held him tighter. Rubbing her cheek against his chest, she murmured, "Don't leave me, please?"

He wanted to push her away then. Panic nearly drove him to, but he swallowed it back and gingerly pulled her closer. He held her as she started to cry harder. He wanted it to stop. Why couldn't she stop?

Draco didn't know how it happened, but suddenly he was kissing her. She tensed up in his arms and hit his chest. He kept kissing her gently but firmly until she gave in. Pansy held tight to his shirt as she pressed up against him.

She pulled away, kissing his jawline. "Make me forget, Draco. Please?"

"Pansy, you're in shock," Draco said. "You need to rest."

She pulled his face down to look at him. "I need to forget. Help me." Tears formed in her eyes. "I'm so scared right now."

He closed his eyes in defeat and began kissing her again. As he lowered her back on the bed, she tensed in his arms. He continued kissing and not doing anything else until she relaxed. He lightly touched the side of her face and down to her neck. His lips still on hers Draco cautiously moved his hand down to her bare shoulder.

Pansy didn't tense up. He shifted his hand to her hip and waited. A small tremor traveled up her slim body, but she just moved against him even closer.

Draco gently stroked the curve of her hip and then pulled the bottom of the towel up a little. She murmured a protest, but she did not repeat it. He lightly touched the skin on her thigh before moving up to where her thighs met.

She gasped and tensed. Draco pulled away to look at her face, but he kept his hand at the apex of her legs. She looked a little scared and her eyes became unfocused. Pansy's breathing became uneven and ragged.

Too far, he thought. I pushed her too far.

He moved away from her and said her name. "Pansy? Look at me."

Her swollen red lips moved, but he didn't hear anything. Draco leaned close and caught her words. "Go away."

He had never felt so torn in his life. He wanted to make her better, but she was fragile and wanted him to leave her alone. Which was the right thing to do?

In the end, he nodded, accepting her decision. Draco rolled off the bed and walked out. He summoned a house-elf and ordered it to look after Pansy. If she became unstable at any time, it was to come to him at once.

He knocked on her door.

Her sobs ceased at once. She called out. "W-who is it?"

"It's Draco, Pans," he said through the door.

"Go away."

He sighed in frustration. "Let me in. We have to talk."

Silence.

"I've given you a week to get over it, Pansy," he said. "Don't make me kick the door in."

"Just leave me alone." Her voice cracked and she started crying again.

Draco rattled the doorknob, checking if it was locked. It was. He hit the door once. "You can't hide in there forever, Pansy. We both have one more year to go at Hogwarts. I—"

"Master," a squeaky voice said. "Master, there is a young gentleman waiting in the front hall. He wants to speak to you."

He looked at the house-elf. It twisted its skinny thin hands nervously under his gaze. The stained white pillowcase wrapping its body was pathetic. Draco suddenly wanted to kick it down the length of the hall, but quelled his impulse. Instead he answered, "Thank you, Roddy. Go back to your chores now."

"Yes, Master." Roddy scampered off presumably to finish sweeping out a room or something of the like.

Draco cast one more glance at Pansy's closed door and walked away. He stopped at the railing overlooking the first floor, the front hall. "What can I do for you, sir?"

The young gentleman as Roddy called him looked up at Draco. "Lord Malfoy, I presume?"

"Yes, and might I have the honor of your name?" Draco asked lifting a brow. The man looked familiar, but he could not place him. He had seen him somewhere.

"My name is not important, my lord."

"What business brings you to my home?" Draco asked, walking towards the staircase and down it. He stopped in front of the man and noticed he was taller than this visitor was. That pleased him immensely.

"I come on the behalf of He that we both serve," the man answered cryptically.

Anger filled his being, but he kept himself from showing it. "Oh?"

"He wishes to see you now." The man inclined his head respectfully.

Now he remembered. Draco had seen him at a few of the meetings. The man had graduated from Hogwarts when he was in fifth year. He had been a Ravenclaw. His name was Matthew York...Yeats, something like that.

"Now?"

"Now." Matthew's dark eyes were shuttered. Draco could not see any hint of what awaited him.

"Fine." Draco summoned a servant, leaving word for his mother that he had gone out.

They apparated to a lone house located on a grassy hill out in the middle of the country. Draco went up to the front door followed by Matthew and knocked three times, once, a pause, and then twice rapidly. It was a code of sorts the people using the house used.

A peephole about eye level with Draco opened and he saw hard, beady eyes staring out at him. A gruff voice asked, "What is your business?"

"He wants to see me," was all Draco said. There was no more elaboration on which 'He' was. The peephole shut and the door opened.

The guard murmured, "My lord."

He walked in without a glance at Matthew or the guard. Matthew had done his job and whatever he did now was none of his business. Draco went passed the front room and turned down the hall to the right. He passed three doors and opened the fourth door. It wasn't a room but a spiral staircase that went down to the lower floor.

Draco came off the last step and walked down the dark hallway. Torches lit the way in their brackets casting shadows on the stone walls. He halted in front of the heavy oak door at the very end of the hallway. He knocked twice.

"Enter," a high, cold voice said.

Draco did not even flinch. He had gotten used to that voice throughout the past year and summer. Briefly he wondered what that said about him.

He swung open the door and stepped inside. He closed it quietly. "You wanted to see me, my lord?"

The room was furnished comfortably. A roaring fire was going in the fireplace on the opposite side of the room. Two armchairs were positioned in front of it. He could see an elbow peeking out from the side of the chair, but that was all.

Then he spoke. "Draco... I have asked you repeatedly to call me Voldemort, but no matter. How I have missed our conversations! Where have you been?"

Draco moved closer to the fire and sat down in the other chair. He shrugged. "I have been busy. Lucius, for all his generous donations, did not leave the family name in good graces. I've been cleaning up his mess."

"How does it feel to be Lord Malfoy, Draco?" Voldemort's voice held a note of satisfaction and pride. It was probably because everyone believed Lucius Malfoy was in hiding. It wasn't true.

"I don't care much for the paperwork and kissing babies and publicity. It's all so very tedious." Draco looked over at him. He wondered if he should bring up Pansy, but decided to leave that for later. Instead, he asked, "And how goes your plans?"

"I am surrounded by idiots." The reply was deadpan and a little unsettling considering his voice never varied from its high-pitched coldness. Voldemort, his face as white as ever, looked sullen. "They follow my every order, but do they think on their feet? No, they do not."

"What can you expect, my lord? Followers are followers." Draco turned and gazed into the fire. "Yes, you have some fine followers like—"

"Yourself?" Voldemort interrupted.

"You do me an injustice, my lord. I do not count myself as a good follower like MacNair, Bellatrix, or even the Nott family," said Draco, shaking his head.

"You do yourself an injustice, Draco. You are the finest of all that follow me just because you do not follow blindly. I have always liked that about you. Your comrade, Blaise

Zabini, also ranks high beside you." Voldemort laughed. "Oh, yes, it will be the two of you who will lead the next generation into darkness."

"What makes you so sure about me?" asked Draco seriously.

"Unlike Lucius, you are strong. I have no doubt that once I become senile, it will be you who will succeed my throne. You are smart, ambitious, and ruthless and you stick to your guns, as the Americans say, no matter the cost. Of them all, I would choose you because you go by your own will, not mine."

A little embarrassed and sure that he was flushing, Draco tried sinking deeper into his chair. "Spare me my blushes, Voldemort. I might need them this coming year."

Voldemort laughed. It was a cold sound that should have raked across his nerves, paralyzing them, but didn't. "You are so refreshing, Draco. Unlike Lucius, or any of the others in fact, you actually argue with me. I trust you."

Now's a time as good as any, he thought. "May I be blunt, sir?"

"Of course. You are welcome to say what you please, Draco." Voldemort turned his scarlet, slitted eyes at him.

"I do not know if I can trust you."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't."

"Then you know what I'm about to say." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes. You want to know why I let such a thing happen to that Parkinson chit. Well, to be blunt as well, Draco, she had to be taught a lesson." Voldemort's eyes narrowed even more.

"But why? Wasn't losing her family enough for you?" Draco asked, rising from his chair.

"Did you know her father was about to turn?" asked Voldemort softly. Draco stopped his pacing and looked in horror at the old wizard. "He was going to switch to the light side."

"Are you sure?" Draco didn't want to believe that Pansy would have turned as well.

"I am very sure. My informants told me of his imminent treachery."

"Then why didn't you kill Pansy as well?"

"Pansy, is it?" Voldemort asked lightly, but didn't pursue that tack. "Pansy has a part to play in my plans. She will be important in the final battle."

"But why?" he asked angrily. "Why did you allow a bastard like Pucey...do—touch—her?"

"Would you have volunteered for the position if you had known? I doubt you would have been rough on her. She is after all in the same year as you," Voldemort said. "No, I thought it best if someone not close to her carried out my order."

Draco shot a murderous glare at him. "If you think to win her over to the dark side by playing that card, you won't get far. She's now more likely to finish what her father started and switch to the Light."

"And what do you suggest, Draco? How do I—we—convince her to stay with us?" he challenged.

"Well, watching that fucking bastard Pucey suffer might bring her out of her shell, but perhaps killing him will go a small way to soothing her spirit. I dare say she'll be looking for a fight." Draco smiled grimly at the memory of Pucey's bloody battered face.

Voldemort sighed. "I did not appreciate your beating of him, Draco. He amused me by his attempts to please me."

"Then you should have chosen another." Draco raised his chin stubbornly.

"May I ask why you beat him so viciously? Was it because I did not enlighten you of my plan that night?"

"He touched what is mine," Draco enunciated carefully. "When I took her in, I let her believe that I was doing it for my family's sake. It wasn't true. The truth was I did it to protect her. I knew she was vulnerable after the death of her family, so I offered her a place to stay, to grieve, safely. But when you sent that despicable son of a bitch after her, you showed that I had failed in my duty to defend her. I do not appreciate that, my lord."

"I am sorry you feel that way, Draco. I suppose what I had in mind could have been executed another way," Voldemort conceded. "But what's done is done. By the way, I am told you also broke Theo Nott's nose and Terence Higgs' jaw. Very barbaric."

"Thank you," replied Draco sarcastically. "But I want Pansy to recover a bit first. I think she's in denial over the whole thing. Once she has accepted it has happened, she will enjoy Pucey's suffering more."

"I sincerely hope so," said Voldemort, smiling. "Oh yes, once we have her, she will be unstoppable."

Draco looked quickly at the other wizard. What the bloody hell had he meant by that? But before he could say anything, Voldemort sighed deeply and said, "Go back to her, Draco. I suspect only you will get through to her."

"I doubt that, my lord," said Draco, speaking from his heart.

"I have confidence in your abilities, son." Voldemort settled more deeply in his armchair. "Go on, off with you."

"All right. I will see you later, I presume?" he asked.

"Of course, Draco."

Draco nodded and left the room. After leaving the house, he apparated back to Malfoy Manor. He walked through the formal dining room to get to the kitchen. He stopped dead at the sight of Blaise sitting beside the end of the long table eating a sandwich.

Blaise looked up from a big bite, his cheeks bulging. A few large chews and his mouth was clear. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "About time, Draco. I've been waiting for a fucking hour."

"Then you should have left," snapped Draco. He felt his talk with Voldemort was unsatisfactory.

Blaise raised his brows. "I take it your...little meeting didn't go well."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "And how would you know of it, Zabini?"

"Your mother told me." Blaise spread his hands. "Come on, Draco, relax! Go get something to eat and come back in here. Maybe by then you'll have calmed down."

"Fucker." But Draco whirled around and went into the kitchen anyway. He was hungry. As Michel the chef prepared a sandwich called a cheeseburger, Draco asked if Pansy had been sent a tray of food.

Michel nodded. "Oui, Monsieur Malfoy. Mademoiselle Pansy 'as been sent a tray."

Draco received his plate and went back into the dining room. Blaise was waiting for him. "So what did Voldemort have to say, huh?"

"He ordered the attack on her." Draco took a bite as Blaise swore. "Voldemort also said Damien tried to switch over to the Light. That was the reason he and his family were killed."

"Except for Pansy." Blaise raked a hand through his black hair. "Shit. So Pansy would've went over, too?"

Draco shrugged, trying not to think about it. "I don't know. Maybe. I'd like to think she would've stayed with us despite her father, but who knows."

"Anything else?"

"He said something about her being important in the final battle and us leading 'the next generation into darkness' or something like that." Draco forced a laugh. "I don't know why he trusts us over the others. They have more experience at the whole Death Eater business."

Blaise looked thoughtful. "Perhaps because unlike them, we use our brains when things go wrong. Sort of like that job over the Christmas holiday. When Lucius and Avery botched that recovery of Potter's wand, they didn't know what to do. It was us who—"

"—had to think up the escape plan," Draco finished.

He remembered that job. It was his and Blaise's very first field mission. Aurors were closing in because that fucker Potter had sounded the alarm. Lucius had Potter's wand. Draco had said to leave it. There was no way they could escape with it then. Lucius refused. They were pinned down behind some crates in a hall, but there was a window opposite them. Blaise proposed they escape through there, but Avery wanted to stay and fight. Draco and Blaise argued against it. Draco asked Lucius what to do.

It was the only time in his life that he had actually seen Lucius at a complete loss of what to do. It wasn't a pretty sight. Draco had shouted, "Fuck!" and aimed a hex at the Aurors. Then he grabbed Potter's wand from his father's hand and tossed it away. Lucius had said no, but Draco blasted the window out and shoved Lucius through it. Blaise went next to make sure Lucius didn't do anything stupid. He ordered Avery to go and covered the Death Eater's exit. One last round of spells and Draco was out as well.

Voldemort was not pleased. That night was the last time Draco saw his father alive or Avery for that matter. The Dark Lord had commended Blaise and him for thinking on their feet.

"Make me proud, Draco." That was the very last thing Lucius said to Draco before dying before his eyes.

Draco shook his head clearing away the memories of the past. What's done is done as Voldemort said. He couldn't do anything about it now.

"How far we have come in the past seven months," Blaise suddenly said. "Feels damned strange knowing we still have one more year."

He didn't bother responding to Blaise's comments. Pansy was crowding his thoughts again. He shot a glance upward to the second floor in the direction of her room. Draco wondered how she was doing.

That brought up Voldemort's question. Would he have volunteered for the assignment if he had known what was to happen to Pansy? Just to keep her safe? Would Blaise have done it if asked?

"Do you know how she is doing?" asked Blaise.

Draco shook his head. "No. She won't even open her door to me. Narcissa is the only one to see her."

"What a fucking mess," said Blaise disgustedly. "How does he expect us to go about our normal lives at school when he so fittingly screwed everything up for us?"

"You said yourself, mate, we use our brains when things go wrong." He got up from the high-backed chair. "Your parents expecting you anytime soon?"

Blaise shook his head. "No. They're at the Goyle party tonight."

Oh yes, the Goyle party. The Malfoys had been sent an invitation, but Draco graciously declined giving an excuse he couldn't remember now.

Draco tipped his head towards the door. "Come on. Let's go into the library. I've got a bottle of firewhiskey with our names on it."

Together, they went to the library. A fire was going and Blaise claimed one of the comfy armchairs in front of the fireplace. Draco was strongly reminded of his earlier visit with Voldemort. The room was basically the same set up.

He shook himself and went over to the liquor cabinet. With two glasses and the bottle, he took his place by the fire. Draco filled the glasses and handed one to Blaise. He raised his. "To Voldemort. May he...do what he does best. Screw everything up."

"Here, here." Blaise clinked his glass against his and they drank to the toast. Then after Draco refilled their glasses, he said, "Here's to...Pansy. May she get better and kick some ass!"

They knocked the firewhiskey back faster than the first time. Draco twirled the empty glass in his hand. "She'll get better." He nodded to himself. "Yeah, she will."

Whaddya think? Too soft, too out of character or just right in his own right? You know what to do. Review it.

- TG