Oh ho ho! What is this? Do your eyes deceive you, or has this story been updated?! Surprise, my dears! Let me know if you like it or not. Just be sure not to use profanity. My humble thanks to my most recent reviewers: mehr03, lachicarebelde22, MemeLee, 'Someone', thusspakekate, Cupcake Chan 95, elani, yrenne, Martina Malfoy Lestrange, sandrawoepie, 'signed', SorrisoD'amore. Special thanks to ALL my reviewers in general, for constantly motivating me to hurry up and finish my stories. I heart you all. -xoxo, Makbee
They were all headed back towards the dungeons, strolling at a leisurely pace, with Draco and Pansy at the center of the little entourage as usual. Blaise and Theodore trailed behind, once again deep in conversation, while Crabbe and Goyle lead the way, occasionally shoving others who were not quick enough to move aside so as not to be in their way.
Dinner had been a success, and despite being slightly uncomfortable in the beginning, it had become slightly less awkward for the two as the night wore on. It may be argued that it was undoubtedly because Goyle and Crabbe engaged in another heated debate about the best dessert to have ever existed, which almost ended in a physical altercation, while Nott put on his best impression of Granger, planting two carrot sticks in his mouth to resemble her buck-toothed grin; their small circle maintained its natural atmosphere, and thereby lead them to feel as if nothing about their situation had really changed at all.
Draco currently had an arm circled around her delicate waist, while Pansy made sure to throw him lovesick glances now and then. As was expected from their little debacle, heads turned and fingers were pointed in their general direction. Yes, all eyes were on the two as they passed by, and word was spreading that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were, at last, an item.
There had been a good amount of speculation in the past about the intimate relationship between the two, but that had often been countered by the fact that Draco had a constant flow of girlfriends. Nevertheless, the idea that the two were more than just friends persisted and was not a novel piece of gossip in the house of Slytherin. Now, it only helped lend their faux relationship great credibility.
"Malfoy, you're holding me a tad bit too tight," said Pansy in a low voice, careful to lean in and place her lips close to his ears.
"Nonsense. You're just not used to being held in this fashion," he retorted. He cast her a flirtatious look, which entailed a dashing smirk. Only Malfoy could make a smirk dashing.
She grumbled a few choice words that were coined to be sailor's language.
"You know, darling, you could definitely try harder to appear more pleased. You are, after all, dating the most desirable male of our house," said Draco.
Pansy became slightly irritated. Of course she was giving it her best effort! The idiot! But that sure as bloody hell didn't mean it was easy. She took a deep breath. There was no use in bringing that up with him, however, as she knew very well it would initiate another round of bickering between them.
Instead, she grudgingly tried to take his advice by pressing her own body even closer to his. "There, how's that?" she asked, still somewhat agitated.
"Better."
She couldn't help but think that he was merely torturing her by insisting on being more intimate than necessary, and that he was enjoying every minute of it. How obnoxious could he be, she thought.
"Oy!" interrupted Blaise, causing Pansy and Draco to turn around. "Hate to miss out on our post-dinner ritual 'round the ol' fireplace tonight, but Nott and I are headed to the owls. We've some things to take care of. Business stuff." Theodore nodded his head in agreement.
It may have seemed very odd that the two would be so secretive about a matter, but none of them took offense to it. After all, if it was important for the rest of them to know, well, then Blaise and Theodore would make it known, eventually if not now. However, it only confirmed to Pansy what she had suspected previously: Zabini wanted something illegal and Nott was going to request that his father procure it, for a handsome price that is. She watched the two veer off to the right, up a flight of stairs. She had to admit, she was slightly curious, and was just about to tell Draco so when he spoke up.
"I see a few new faces coming our way," he said under his breath. "Kiss me," he demanded.
Without hesitation, she obeyed. She turned to him and pressed her lips tightly to his. Alright, so she was getting used to kissing her best friend. Although she would never admit, not even to herself, that she also enjoyed it. Just a little. She slowly broke away from him, but not before awkward eye contact was made. Again. Well, at least, it was awkward for her. Merlin, please don't let my face turn red, she mentally pleaded.
She felt his arm fall away from her waist, his hand now reaching for her own. It all seemed so natural for him, she noted, as she clumsily entwined her fingers with his. Much better than she was at it, anyways. But of course, Pansy had to remind herself that he had had plenty of girlfriends in the past. The thought immediately made her bitter for some reason and she unconsciously squeezed his hand rather hard.
Draco noticed, but he attributed the reason for it to something else entirely. He cleared his throat. "Ah, Parkinson, so did you want to, uhm. Ahem, I mean, is .. is tonight a good night for you? For our essay, I mean. For Ancient Runes?"
"Huh? Oh. Y-yeah. It's Tuesday, right? I thought that was what we agreed on last week? Just meet me in the library tonight."
He stopped and pulled her aside, Crabbe and Goyle not noticing and continuing along their way ahead. "Why don't we just go there together? I think as my 'girlfriend', I'm entitled to walk with you there," he said, with a pout.
She looked around before responding, trying to gauge whether they had an audience or not. She decided to play it safe, wrapping her arms around him and placing her chin on his chest.
He raised an eyebrow at her, for it was no doubt outside of her comfort zone to act in such a way. It certainly was unexpected, however brilliant, on her part. He followed her lead and wrapped her in an embrace. Strange, he thought, that the position would be so. . comfortable.
"Because, I've some things that need to be discussed with Greengrass. I need to figure out the next step in our plan. Acting as if we're attached at the hips is not going to win us the title, you know."
"I think the more we're seen together, the more believable it is," he argued.
"There's plenty of times to be seen together, Malfoy," she countered. "We need to win more followers over."
"Speak for yourself. I'm pretty sure the entire female population in Slytherin is devoted to me."
"You cheeky bastard!"
"Tell me I'm wrong!"
"Ok, fine, whatever. The point is, they need to be on our side, not just yours. That's difficult on my part because they all hate me!"
"Because you're dating me," he teased.
She frowned. He was right, if only partly. They also despised her because her confidants was not limited only to Draco Malfoy; It consisted of two other desirable Slytherin males: Nott and Zabini. It was quite a problem, to which she had been pondering a solution to all evening.
"But don't worry about it. I'm sure you and Greengrass will have it all worked out," he reassured her.
"It would help, you know, if you contributed some ideas of your own," she said.
"Pans, as a woman, scheming about social power is more your area of expertise than mine."
"Ugh. You really don't care about whether this plan works or not," she complained, trying to push her way out of his arms. Merlin, he was so frustrating. Sometimes, she wasn't sure if he ever took anything seriously.
He kept his hold firm, thus preventing her from squirming out of his arms. "Hey! do you know how hard it is for to me to not flirt with any girl while I'm in this so-called relationship?"
"Oh, please!"
"I'm serious! They're always throwing themselves at me at any given moment, but I've committed my entire attention to you this whole day. Not to mention that I have to continue to do so until our plan reaches fruition," he pointed out.
Her face sobered up instantly. "That is quite a sacrifice, Malfoy. I can't imagine how you're faring."
"I hate, absolutely hate, your sarcasm."
"You're one to talk. 'Oh no, I can't snog a different girl every day! Please help me! I'm stuck with Parkinson as my girlfriend, woe is me!' You prat!"
"I don't sound like that! And I wasn't complaining about you being my girlfriend."
"Yes, you do, and yes you were!" she argued.
"Nonsense. . . I like kissing you, Parkinson."
The statement caused her to be dumbstruck on the spot. Stupid git, she thought. Now he was just hitting below the belt. "Malfoy, I'm not in the mood for your jokes."
"I'm being serious. But maybe you ought to kiss me again, just to be sure I know what I'm talking about," he said, with a coy grin.
"How about a punch in the face instead?"
"I take it you're not going to kiss me, then."
"Only because I feel that the punch is the one you deserve more."
"What if I said Astoria and that Nova idiot are about to pass by?" She saw that he was staring at something, or most likely two someones, behind her.
" . . . You're not lying are you, darling?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"Not in the least. But I suppose a little verbal spat between us may be helpful in convincing the two that we are mad about each other," he mused.
Her hand snaked around the back of his neck. "Shut up and kiss me, Malfoy."
He did so, and just in time as the the two individuals walked by. Astoria cast a disgusted look at their little display of affection. She, in turn, responded by grabbing Aurelius' arm and sticking her nose in the air. Not that either Pansy or Draco saw it. They were quite engrossed with their performance.
"I think they're gone," whispered Pansy, in between kisses. She tried to see, from her peripheral, if this was indeed the case.
"Maybe not," he answered, still seeking her lips. "Shouldn't risk it."
She felt one of his hands wander lower, and she softly, but firmly bit down on his lower lip. "Get your hands off of my butt, Malfoy," she whispered fiercely. He pretended not to hear her and kept it exactly where it was, giving her his best smirk.
"I'll meet you in the library later, then?" he asked. He gave her bum a quick squeeze before untangling himself from her. He had already spotted Blaise and Theodore coming down the way, back early from their little detour, and was running to meet them.
Now Pansy knew she was red in the face. Whether it was out of embarrassment or anger, she just wasn't certain. Perhaps both. Damn pity that she couldn't voice her outrage as she watched Draco run up to his two counterparts. She was left standing there, seething with fury, although she tried hard to control it, always being cautious in case there was someone watching.
"Abominable wretch," she cursed under her breath. She turned around and headed off to find Daphne.
They met in Daphne's room this time, Pansy being assured that it was quite safe to discuss any plans they might hatch. She was pacing back and forth, still angry from Draco's audacity, while Daphne watched her from the bed.
"You know, I don't understand why you're upset," offered Daphne. "It's considered a compliment."
"Malfoy squeezing my ass is not a compliment," snarled Pansy. But Daphne dismissed her with a wave of her hand.
"Oh never you mind about it. Malfoy will be Malfoy. You of all people ought to know that. Let's just move along now shall we?"
Pansy knew she was right. They had more pressing matters to address, although luckily, she had a slight idea as to how to go about it. "Greengrass, what is the name of that she-ogre in our house? I believe we have a class with her. The one who always seems to have cat hair on her robes? Bulstrump or something?"
"Bulstrode, you mean?"
"Yeah, that's it. Bulstrode. We need her."
"I'm sorry, but did I just hear you correct? We need Bulstrode?! Millicent Bulstrode?!"
"It had dawned on me earlier during dinner. Did you notice she sits by herself? Even the rest of our house seems reluctant to be around her. Is that not odd to you?"
"Parkinson, Bulstrode, is, well, a troll. She's hideous, has a particular odor and never says a word, only grunts. Girls call her all sorts of names," said Daphne.
Pansy nodded her head. "Yes, but they don't say it to her face. They cower if she's turned in their direction."
"Are you blind? Because she'd beat you up! Or, at the very least, sit on you! The girl is built like Crabbe and Goyle!"
"Exactly! I need that kind of intimidation. I'm not going to suck up to other girls to put them under my thumb, Greengrass. I'll do it by sheer force. Or fear."
"And you're going to recruit Bulstrode how exactly?" asked a dubious Daphne. "I doubt she'd give a flying fuck about our cause."
"Bulstrode has nothing, you imbecile. She has no reputation, no friends, nothing to lose. But you give someone like that something, let's say a position or power, then you've made yourself a very strong and dedicated ally."
". . . I don't think I'm following you."
Pansy gave an agitated sigh. "I will have her indebted to me. I will give her a position in our little inner circle. Then she'll fight even harder to maintain that position, which means she'll fight hard for me, see? Make her feel as if she plays an integral part, and she will do her damnedest to make certain she stays important to you."
"But what if she finds out about how you're only using her? Won't that make her turn against you?" Daphne asked.
Pansy scoffed. "You really think she would care about something so insignificant as that? She'll feel useful, powerful even, just having a role to play that I very much doubt it would matter to her whether she was being used or not."
"Oh that is very clever indeed, Parkinson. But how will you do this?"
"That will take some digging up. I need you to find out as much about her as possible. Ask those who've had classes with her, sat next to her, worked on an assignment with her, whatever you can find," ordered Pansy.
"Easy enough," replied Daphne. "Davis was unfortunate enough to be her Potions partner in our third year. I'll start with her."
"Tracey Davis?"
"Did I mention she has concocted a very nasty hex that involves boils? I can vouch for her," Daphne remarked.
"Yes, I've seen her in your own small clique. I assume you trust her enough. Recruit her for the bloody cause if you can."
"My pawns are yours, Parkinson."
"Hm. But don't mention that my relationship with Draco is a facade or what our real purpose is."
"Not that I could if I wanted. You're stupid binding spell stops me from speaking it to anyone else outside your fiendish inner circle," complained Daphne.
Pansy responded with a knowing smirk. "Get to it."
Class would not start for another twenty minutes, at least. The professor had not even arrived. But regardless, she looked again at her desk, stupefied.
The parchment was there a moment ago. She stood still and just stared, as if it would appear on its own if she gazed hard enough. Yes, she could hear all the sniggering in the background but she had learned to ignore it. They played this game often enough. Someone had taken her assignment and now a gang of them had tuned in to watch, in the hopes of catching her bungling about, searching hopelessly for it. She could beat the culprit to a bloody pulp, and gladly so. Problem was, she never knew who did it. She would turn around, and then there it would be again, right where she left it.
That's when the laughing would start: muffled giggling, barely held in check. It made her blood boil. But she stopped giving them the satisfaction of looking like an idiot, trying to find the disappearing homework, a long time ago. She just did what she always did, and sat down, acting as if nothing had happened.
Then she heard the commotion. There were footsteps, and chairs scraping. And some kind of gurgled cry, which turned into whimpering. Millicent turned to look, and there, just a few desks down, was a brunette she identified as Parkinson. She had grabbed a fistful of hair of some unfortunate Ravenclaw girl, while two other girls flanked her, wands drawn, to make sure no one got in her way.
Parkinson yanked the girl's hair harder, almost snapping her head back all the way. "Let's have it," she said in an even tone. The poor girl's eyes were tearing up as she slowly reached under her robes to produce the missing parchment. Pansy pushed the girl's head forward with such force that it nearly hit the desk. She snatched the piece of paper, and walked straight up to Millicent.
"Bulstrode, you missing this?" she asked, proffering the document. Millicent nodded slightly.
The entire room, a mixture of both Slytherin and Ravenclaw students, had grown deathly quiet. No one had ever quite seen Pansy act in such a way. Yes, she sneered and snarled and smirked like any other Slytherin, but she mostly ignored everyone who was not a member of her intimate group. She was content to mostly leave everyone else alone, provided they do the same to her.
Thus, for her to all of a sudden show some form of dominance shocked everyone, including her own house mates. Threats were one thing. But to actually use physical force on someone else was another thing entirely, especially among those who had become accustomed to magic. It was a raw, primitive display of strength that inspired fear in everyone else. Even hexing was not as jaw-dropping or scandalous.
What was most disturbing, however, was how frightful she actually was. Her voice was like jagged steel that cut through the stillness, and the air around her was undoubtedly cold. There was a particularly malicious sneer on her face and confidence in the way she moved. She had created such tension in the atmosphere that others were afraid to speak, let alone gasp, at what she'd done.
"Why don't you get your stuff, and come sit with us in the back," said Pansy, motioning to the seats Daphne had commandeered. To Millicent, it seemed more of an order than an offer. She found herself automatically obeying.
"These Ravenclaws aren't as bright as you think," continued Pansy, casting an icy glance at the whole lot of them now gathered around her victim, consoling her.
Daphne and Tracey snickered, wands still drawn.
"Next time, just threaten to throttle anyone, well not a Slytherin, but anyone from any other house, and I guarantee, they'll cave in like a bunch of Gryffindorks. Hell, don't even threaten. Just do it until someone volunteers to give your homework back."
"Yes, that's right. Put the fear of Salazar in them," added Daphne. "They probably wouldn't even have time to think of a proper spell before your fist connects with their face."
Pansy smirked in agreement. "I'm only ashamed no one from our damn house thought to tell you that sooner."
For the first time anyone had ever seen, Millicent Bulstrode smiled. It was an evil, serpentine sort of grin actually, and had the effect of making her seem much more ferocious, and dangerous.
"I think I would enjoy pounding people constantly," she said in a gruff voice. That was the most anyone had ever heard her speak. The missing homework stunt was something she had never appreciated. She was a very, very angry girl.
"Perfectly understandable," reasoned Pansy, giving the larger girl a small pat on the shoulder as they made their way to their new seats. "I could use someone like you, Bulstrode. Stick with me, and I'll give you plenty of opportunities to do so."
And just like that, Pansy obtained the muscle she needed for her outfit.
