Author's Note –sorry this took so long ladies and gentlemen! But I had so much I wanted to write about and where I wanted to take this story, and I wanted to get it all going in one chapter, and it was just a mess! So I told myself, 'Stop. Breathe. And just break it up into multiple chapters.' And so I did :)

Anyways, on a dismal side note: another reason why this chapter has taken so long to be written is that someone complained about the sexual content of this story. I'm not sure, but I think they flagged it…. So now I'm just waiting for the day I come on here and my story and all its beautiful reviews have been deleted… I literally want to cry at the thought of it… if it does get deleted however, I will start re-posting it on Granger Enchanted, and all that I ask is that you go on there and continue following it, and please, PLEASE, help me get back to my original number of reviews :'( thank you to all of you who have stuck by my side while I've written this story – I really appreciate all of your support! Love you all, and I hope you enjoy!

Ecstasy

Chapter 10

"Saving a Relocated Dog"

"Merlin's balls!" growled Ron under his breath, "Parkinson, I swear! If you don't bloody stop moving I'm going to –"

"You'll do what?" she hissed venomously, elbowing him roughly in the ribs as she tried to turn around to glare at him, which was nearly impossible because they were so tightly crammed into an unbearably small broom closet that she could hardly breathe.

"Omph!" he gasped as she knocked the air out of him.

"That's right, shut the hell up before I come to my senses and kill you, you stupid Gryffindor." Pansy practically gagged as she said the last word; it left such a horrid taste in her mouth.

"Shut up! Or Slughorn will hear you!" he snapped, and they both quieted down as they heard shuffling just on the other side of the stone wall again. "What's the old geezer doing up anyways? It's like 1:30 in the morning!" complained Ron as he shifted around trying to find more room, but slammed his head into the low ceiling. Pansy rolled her eyes as he whimpered in pain and elbowed him again.

"Why the hell are you trying to get into his office... Actually, why am I even here?" she whined again for the hundredth time.

"I'm not telling you, you're a Slytherin!"

Pansy gritted her teeth and tried to control herself from cursing him to hell and back, "Again, then why am I here?" she growled dangerously.

"You agreed to help me with the Hermione situation, that's why" he spat out the name with a scowl, "You're here as the look out, that's all you need to know."

"Watch yourself Weasel… there might be a snake hidden in the grass…" she threatened.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he said a little too loudly and the shuffling in the office paused for a second, then began again.

"It means" she growled, "I'm a Slytherin, just like you so cleverly pointed out… watch your back."

Ron glared at her as the tops of his ears turned red with anger, "Just shut up and do what I say or you'll regret it too Pug-face Parkinson."

Pansy gritted her teeth and clenched her fist around her wand so tightly that she lost feeling in her fingers after a few minutes, but she didn't move; she didn't say anything; she just waited. That's what she was there for after all – information. Potter is going to owe me big time after this, she thought with a smirk.

Finally, after over an hour of waiting in the cramped up broom closet, Slughorn finally left his office and wandered back down the corridor towards his sleeping chambers.

"Bloody hell" sighed Ron as he pushed open the door and squeezed through it. He stood up straight with a groan and stretched his arms towards the ceilings, feeling his taut muscles protest painfully from being hunched over in that 'doll-house' of a closet for so long. "Stay here" he demanded as he brought his arms back down to his sides.

Pansy scowled but said nothing as she stepped out into the hall too. She caught his glare and returned it with one of her own until he huffed and finally turned and stalked towards the dark office that belonged to her Head of House. Once he finally disappeared through the door after fumbling over a simple unlocking spell, she settled for leaning against the cool, stone walls of the corridor.

Once inside the dark room, Ron looked around, confused on where to start searching. He had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to do to get revenge on Hermione for the things she had said to him and for playing him like a fool. 'She's a skank, that's all she ever was,' he reminded himself as the stitch in his chest constricted again and he felt a lump get stuck in his throat as the pain she had caused him bubbled up inside. 'No! She did not hurt me! I never had feelings for her. She was just a fun thing to play with. She's a skank, that's all skanks are good for.' He smiled to himself as he finally reined his emotions back under control and started searching through the office again.

"You'll regret ever having even looked at Malfoy" Ron whispered under his breath as a triumphant smile spread across his face as he finally found what he was looking for in the Potions Master's personal ingredients closest – a huge jar of slowly bubbling, thick brown goo that was hidden all the way in the back on the highest shelf. Ron carefully pulled it down and unscrewed the lid – the putrid smell hit him like a ton of bricks and made his eyes water. 'This batch must be pretty old' he thought as he pulled out a couple of small vials from inside his robes and started pouring the thick, lumpy potion into them while his face was screwed up in disgust.

Once done, he quickly put everything back away where he got it and hurried out of the office. "Got it, let's go" he hissed at Pansy as she pushed away from the wall she had been leaning on. When they came upon the corridor where they were to split into their separate directions, Ron turned to her and said, "Meet me at the top of the Astronomy Tower at 7, tomorrow morning."

Pansy glared at him but said nothing. She turned around abruptly, causing her hair to whip out behind her and successfully slap the Weasel full in the face. She heard him growl angrily behind her, but she continued walking away without a second glance.

Never stand too close to a girl with long hair who you've been pissing off all night, she thought with an evil smirk as she flung her black locks around up onto her shoulders so she could run her fingers through it.

At 6:55 the next morning, Pansy Parkinson found herself stalking up the corridors of Hogwarts School, heading for its tallest tower - the damned Astronomy Observation Deck.

'Why the hell am I doing this again?' She asked herself.

'Oh that's right, Potter wanted to know what his pet weasel was up to.'

'Wait… why am I helping Potter again?'

Just as Pansy turned the corner down yet another corridor and felt the heat rise up to her cheeks as she relived the kiss that Potter had planted on her a few days ago, she slammed into the hard chest of someone very tall… and who smelled very familiar. She gulped nervously as she looked up into the pair of eyes she already knew would be looking down at her.

"Draco" she squeaked out, too anxious about whatever the Weasel had been planning to be able to keep a calm demeanor.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Pansy… what are you doing up so early?" he asked as he let go of her arm that he had caught to keep her from falling backwards – she hadn't even notice he'd grabbed her.

"Me? What are you doing up?" she demanded.

"I'm a prefect. Slughorn heard people about the castle last night so he's had prefects taking turns patrolling all throughout the night… now answer my question Parkinson" he growled, raising his eyebrow even higher.

"Uhh... umm…" she stuttered, unable to think up a good enough lie on the spot, but at that moment, a group of fourth year boys rounded the corner and she had been saved from having to answer the question when a voice rang out.

"Get moving!" snapped a familiar, very annoying, female voice as she rounded the corner and came into view right behind the group of boys. "Oi! Watch it! Keep your hands to yourselves or I swear on Merlin's grave I'll – Draco…" Hermione paused mid curse as she came up to him and Pansy standing in the middle of the corridor.

"Hermione" he inclined his head towards her with a slight smile. Pansy froze at the unfamiliar sound of Granger's first name tumbling off the lips of her ex. Then her eyes suddenly widened and just about popped out of her skull as realization hit her and she stared back and forth between Draco and the Know-It-All. "You… and… you" she stuttered again – Weasel's anger all started to make sense now. Shit.

Before either Draco or Hermione could respond, one of the Slytherin fourth years spoke up, "Oi, Malfoy! Thank Merlin! Tell this Mudblood to stick a fork in it and stop harassing us. We were well within our rights to put this stupid Hufflepuff in his place" spat the gangly boy as he shot a death glare at the boy who was cowering next to Hermione, then he looked back over at Draco expectantly, then he frowned.

Pansy looked back at Draco to see why the boy had suddenly stiffened, but what she saw was not what she had expected. Draco was paler than he normally was – if that was even possible – and he had completely frozen, the only thing moving was the twitching muscle in his clenched jaws – he wasn't even breathing. She looked over as she heard Granger gasp and saw that she had gone pale too, and was slowly shaking her head in horror. "Draco, don't… h-he didn't mean it… he said 'Muggleborn' not the other word…. Draco, relax, please." Granger begged, but he didn't even hear her, he only had eyes for the boy standing in front of him.

"What. Did. You. Say." Draco had finally managed out as waves of anger radiated off his body.

"I said" continued the arrogant fourth year, a little less sure this time though, "that this Mudblood is tryi – " before the boy had even had a chance to finish, he was lifted off his feet by his neck and slammed into the opposite wall of the stone corridor. A sickening crack echoed around them as everyone fell completely silent in shock – Draco had moved so fast no one had even seen him lunge.

The boy was dangling a foot off the floor, nearly level with Draco, as his face began to turn a sickly shade of purple and he clawed at the restraining hand against his throat. Gurgling sounds was the only indication that the boy was even still alive.

Draco just stood there, glaring at the struggling boy. 'I shouldn't be doing this' the thought finally occurred to him like a sharp slap to the face, 'I need to let go… Now!' But even so, his body trembled with the force of the inner war being waged inside him between his mind and his body.

His body had reacted instinctively to the trigger word – it had been used on him for so many years as a Death Eater, when the Dark Lord had wanted his closest followers to viciously attack a group of muggles or mudbloods – they were trained to be savage animals, to attack without thinking, to hate beyond absolute reason. All upon a simple command, a single word. That word.

But while his body was the one pinning the boy to the wall, it was his mind that was screaming at him to let the kid drop before he snapped his windpipe and died.

In a daze, Draco's mind began to detach from itself and start to wander: How does one stop a reaction that has been ingrained into them for years? Something that has been taught, tortured and beaten into their skull until they lay bleeding on the floor, unable to remember their own name or recognize their own mother. Until the only thing left in them is the understanding of kill or be killed.

How does one reverse something like?

Something thrummed in the back of his mind about a story he'd heard a few years ago: maybe it was like trying to relocate an older dog into a new home, a dog that had been raised since it was a pup to be a fighting dog. How does a dog come back from that? After being thrown into rings with other animals to fight to the death while screaming people look on and bet for them, or against them; bet to see them live or bet to see their blood spilled across the dirt and the life seep from their eyes.

Those dogs had learned from a young age to survive or die; killed or be killed.

They'd learned not to trust humans– all they do is bet against their lives.

But after the war, Draco had learned to trust again – it had been hard, but he had managed. But if a dog gets a whiff of something that reminds him of his years of fighting, or has a nightmare about being in the dirt ring, it's possible he could wake up vicious again, if only for a little bit.

Kill or be killed.

Even if one wanted to survive in society like everyone else – normal – how could they change their reaction to certain stimuli?

Images of Voldemort holding a knife to Draco's own neck kept flashing in front of his eyes as he battled to loosen his fingers from his death grip on the boy. He was in a painful limbo – stuck between the present and the past, unable to tell the difference between the two.

He was the relocated dog.

Draco suddenly felt a hand grip his shoulder, and the contact burned every nerve ending in his body and singed up his spine and radiated through his head – someone was attacking him; they were trying to kill him; kill or be killed.

But the hand was just a hand, no magic behind it, just a hand. But it still burned.

Kill or be killed. And his hand around the boy's throat tightened.

"Draco" said a heavenly voice, it sounded so familiar. "Draco, please, its m-me" crying? No, angels shouldn't cry. "Its me, Her-Hermione. Please, let the b-boy go, please" the beautiful voice begged.

Kill or be killed.

"NOO!" Draco screamed and he dropped the boy and shoved away from him, tripping over his own feet and hitting the opposite wall where he slid down to the ground, a few feet away from Pansy. He watched as the kid crumpled to the floor, gasping for air – he was still alive… Merlin, he was still alive.

Draco sat there; numb and staring.

The boy was the first… the first to trigger a reaction out of him that intense since the war had ended… he was also the first to still be left alive after Draco had been triggered to attack….

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing.

He finally looked up and caught Hermione's eyes – she was still crying and utterly frightened as she clutched the gasping boy in her arms and she stared back at him, ready to defend him if Draco was going to attack again.

He was the relocated dog.

And Hermione was his new family…

"You're late!" screamed Ron once Pansy had finally managed to numbly navigate her way up to the Astronomy Tower. She was still in too much shock to even respond to the redhead's anger, she was still mulling over what had just happened with Draco… how he had reacted… how scared he had looked after…

And him and Granger…

"I'm here, that's good enough" she finally said, "now what do you want?" but her voice lacked its usual snap, it was strained, tired almost.

"Well, while you took your sweet time getting up here, I had to get started without you or else there would have never been enough time" he glared at her expectantly.

Pansy sighed and ran her hands through her hair, "Enough time for what?"

"To get this" he raised his hand up in the air, but she didn't see anything grasped between his fingers. She took a few steps forward and frowned – he was holding a few strands of fine, golden-white hair.

"Are you making a wig?" she smirked, "finally got sick of the red shit on your head?"

Ron's face reddened drastically, "I'm warning you Parkinson, don't cross me right now"

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, fighting to keep herself calm or she would lose it and then he would never spill his guts about his plans. As it was, he looked like he was about to burst from the seams with excitement – he looked like he was trying desperately to keep from letting the information leak out. Maybe he just needed a little bit more of a push…

"Okay, okay. What do you need blond hair for?"

"Not just blond hair, platinum blond hair." He smiled widely, and Pansy noticed a hint of something in his eyes – something unsettling, disturbing…

"Again, why?"

Ron looked around nervously, bouncing on the balls of his feet, then he reached into his robes and pulled out a handful of glass vials filled with some kind of brown goo. Pansy stared at it for a few moments, trying to place why the substance looked so familiar. Then she gasped.

Platinum blond hair…

He knows about them.

"Polyjuice Potion" she whispered, a sickening chill running up her spine. It finally hit her, he was going to destroy a lot more peoples' reputation than just Draco's and Granger's… he was going to destroy the Slytherins… all someone had to do was say the wrong secret to him while he was using the Polyjuice Potion, and everything would collapse like a house of cards – some could end up in St. Mungo's Mental Ward, while others in Azkaban. Slytherins didn't have secrets from each other… you can't expect to live with someone since the time you were 11 years old and not manage to find out that they had faerie blood in them, or that one had a disgusting fetish with Flobberworms… or that one or five of them were unregistered Animagi…

How could she stop him though? He was much stronger than she was and his wand had been grasped in his hand since before she had even walked in, while hers was still inside her robes.

Then a thought occurred to her, and she whispered something under her breath as the wheels in her head began to spin into overdrive.

"What was that?" snapped Ron.

"Listen up, the only way this will work" Pansy quickly stepped forward and grabbed the hairs out of his hand and he lunged for her, "No! Stop! Don't you know how the Polyjuice Potion works?" she demanded, trying her hardest to make him believe what she was about to say – he was stupid enough, wasn't he? "The hairs you moron! You could have screwed it all up! You can't use just any hair from the top of someone's head! It has to be quality strands only!"

"I don't remember anything like tha-"

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN! Or do you want to ruin everything?" he quickly shook his head and backed off of her. She gulped as she brought the hairs level to her eyes. 'Please Merlin, let there be just one,' she thought desperately. Then she saw it! Among the strands of platinum blond hair, there was one just a few shades whiter than the others and tipped in silver. She carefully picked it out, along with a few other regular ones, "These are the only ones you can use" she said as she threw the others into the wind.

Ron glared at her and was about to start yelling, but she cut him off again.

"Put each strand in separate vials, do you understand me?" he hastily nodded, "And remember, this is the most important part: you can't go around calling her 'Hermione' or she'll know you're not him… you have to call her Mudblood."

Authors note – Shit's. About. To. Go. Dowwwwwnnnn. :)