Seven: About Potter
'P. -
We need to talk. I'll be up on Sunday. Don't bother trying to avoid me, we both know I'll find you.
- M.'
Pansy glared again at the scrap of parchment taped to the door of the little refrigerator. She was still getting used to such things, to life in the Muggle world, but there were certain advantages to giving up all but the very basics of magic. Her neighbors were quiet enough, her colleagues at the little newspaper didn't regard her with suspicion, and she could walk down the street without fear of someone hurling curses at her. For almost two months, her life had been peaceful and hassle-free, which should have been the first clue that something was bound to happen to screw it all up. She wouldn't have bet on it being Malfoy, though.
A loud crack in her foyer signaled his arrival, followed by a pair of splashing sounds, and then an indignant squawk in a much higher pitch than most people would ever suspect him of uttering. "Pansy!"
She strolled into the foyer and tried not to laugh at the sight of Draco Malfoy, dripping wet with mud in his hair, courtesy of a pair of balloons she'd charmed just for that purpose. He'd always hated to get dirty, even as a child (a fact she used to tease him rather mercilessly about, back when they were friends), and she considered it fair payback for Apparating directly into the house. "Good afternoon, Malfoy. Perhaps next time you'll knock at the door like a civilized person instead of just shredding through my security, hm?"
"Merlin's balls, Pansy, I told you I was coming!" Draco snapped, drawing his wand to cast cleaning and drying charms, clearing away the mud and water.
There was a knock at the door, and Pansy gestured for him to move out of sight, hoping he'd have the sense to be quiet as she went to answer it, opening it just a crack. "Hello, Mrs. Thorne."
"Oh, Pansy, dear, I just heard the most dreadful noise! I'm so glad you're all right, my dear, it sounded as if some poor animal were being tortured in here." Mrs. Thorne was Pansy's landlady, an elderly Muggle woman who had taken an interest in the pretty young tenant in the cottage next door.
"No, no, nothing so serious, Mrs. Thorne, I just had the telly on too loud, is all," Pansy said, shaking her head. "You know how these movies are, sometimes they're so hard to hear so you turn it up and the next thing you know there's someone screaming. My heart's still pounding from the shock, but I'm really all right."
"Well, thank goodness for that, dear. I've got some scones in the oven, would you like me to bring you some around teatime?"
Pansy remained in the doorway, not opening the door any wider than she already had, and smiled, shaking her head. "No, thank you, Mrs. Thorne. I thought I'd take a walk this afternoon - get some air. Perhaps I'll join you tomorrow?"
It took another five minutes of chitchat for the old woman to finally take the hint and leave, and Pansy leaned against the door once it was closed, taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the frustrated Draco she was sure to find when she turned around.
He didn't disappoint her, either, the ire clear on his face as soon as she turned around. "I thought she was never going to leave," he growled, making a quick gesture with his wand to put soundproofing charms in place.
"Why are you here?" she asked, to refrain from repeating herself and pointing out again that he could have shown some manners and knocked on the door.
"You're not going to ask me in to sit down for tea?"
"We're not friends any more," she snapped, annoyed that he could still get to her so easily, even after so much time. "What little courtesy I might have offered was withdrawn when you barged in. I know the wards aren't up to par, even for someone like Goyle, but it doesn't give you the right to trample all over my personal space. You gave up that privilege when you gave up on me, remember?" The last word came out at a much higher pitch and volume than she'd started with, and Pansy caught herself before she could blush at her behavior. Curse him for being able to push her buttons without even really trying.
"Feel better?" he asked, after giving her a moment to wind down. He looked completely unruffled by her temper, almost amused, smug, and she wanted to hit him.
"No, I don't feel better. What do you want, Draco?"
"Would it really help if you hit me?" he asked, his expression bland and still somewhat smug except for the cold look in those silver-gray eyes.
She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. "Stay out of my head," she said, but it fell flat, her tone defensive rather than aggressive as she tried to remember what little she knew of Occlumency.
"I didn't come here to fight with you, Pansy." Draco held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Potter's been digging."
All the fight went out of her, and she swayed on her feet. Draco caught her before she could fall, and she found herself absurdly grateful for his strength, even though it was mostly his fault that she'd nearly fainted. He scooped her up and carried her into the living room, and she hated the way her fingers curled in his shirt out of habit. "Why?" she asked, looking up at his face as he set her gingerly on the sofa.
"This may come as a surprise to you, but I don't go trolling for information in Potter's head on a regular basis," he drawled in reply, sitting next to her with that arrogant smirk back in place.
Pansy pushed herself up and swatted his arm. "Prat."
Draco rolled his eyes at her. "At a guess, this has something to do with the infamous snogging the two of you did on the night of the charity ball. The only explanation I have for that is that you were out of your mind. Temporary insanity?"
"None of your business." Pansy tossed her head and glared at him, to no effect. "What's he digging for?"
"What else? The deepest, darkest secrets of your past, otherwise known as what happened between you and I." He waited for that to process before adding, "Granger made the mistake of bringing the subject up to Astoria."
"Granger? Is that why you're here? Stealing time to come see me while Astoria's locked up for hexing a prominent member of the Ministry?"
"On the contrary. Granger's sense of self-preservation kicked in before my darling wife could draw her wand. I thought a visit was in order, though, since I have my suspicions that Potter's the one who set Granger to poking her nose into your business. It's only a matter of time before he comes looking for you."
Pansy swore, which had Draco smirking again. She glared at him, watching his expression change as she said, "You've done a smashing job of leading him right to my doorstep. Bravo, love, well done." The endearment came out with a sneer, throwing their shared past into his face, but it still didn't make her feel any better.
"What are you talking about?" Draco protested. "I was careful, no one saw me leave, I made sure of it."
"It never ceases to amaze me how someone so brilliant can be so unbelievably thick sometimes. Think, Draco! There's a reason the security was so easy to get through, a reason you don't see all the fancy bits of artifice so common in wizarding homes. This is a Muggle village!" She was shouting again, and she caught herself before she could lose control any further, but the look on his face was priceless.
The apology took him a moment, and was begrudging when it came. "I'm sorry, Pans."
"Don't call me that," she snapped, but the bulk of her anger was gone, and now she was just tired. "We're not friends any more, remember? You don't get to suddenly change your mind, not now, not ever." She sighed, pushing herself to her feet. "You should go. Before Astoria starts wondering where you've run off to."
Draco frowned at her, but to her relief he got up. "About Potter," he began, but for once her glare was enough to silence him.
"I'll deal with it. Thanks for dropping by and ruining my life again, by-the-by," she said, with a prim cheerfulness that was entirely forced. "Let's not do this again, shall we?" The fake smile faded, her expression hardening as she went on, "I can take care of myself, after all. You didn't leave me any other options."
"Pansy, you know why -"
"Get out," she snarled, cutting him off. He gave her a look, and she swore she could feel him prying at her thoughts, which just angered her further. Without another word, he drew his wand, dispelled the soundproofing he'd put up, and vanished with a crack of displaced air.
Pansy counted to ten, twice, trying to regain control of her fractured emotions as she did. Then she sat back down, hugging herself as she started to shake. Harry was digging into her past, looking for what he hadn't found in the background check, secrets only a handful of people had ever been privy to, though some of them were now dead. She wondered, idly, if he'd be able to locate one of the few who remained, if one of them would give her up to the Ministry's Golden Boy.
Draco would take it to his grave, she knew, and while Astoria would certainly sell her out for less than a knut, she didn't know any of the pertinent details; it was one of the many reasons she couldn't even feign civility where Pansy was concerned. Theo or Greg, perhaps, but she wasn't sure Potter would even think of them, it wasn't as if she'd ever been openly close to the rest of the boys in Draco's circle. Zabini was the obvious choice, but that would require him to /find/ Blaise, and Blaise had always been very good at not being found. At least she'd been smart enough not to let the girls of her year know the truth of what happened, none of them would be more forthcoming than 'Parkinson was a bitch,' and she was pretty sure he'd heard plenty of that already.
Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she decided to join Mrs. Thorne for tea after all. Hopefully the landlady's chatter would help take her mind off the dark memories of her past that she'd tried in vain to forget. She would worry about what to do about Potter when he showed up. If he showed up.
