Chapter Ten: Skipping Sunday

Draco immediately dropped to his knees, and crossed his right arm in front of his chest, his right hand balled into a fist. He aimed his head towards the ground obediently, not daring to look the Great Lord in the eye. He tried to block out his mind. Surely a wizard as powerful as Lord Voldemort could indeed see the inner workings of his soul. He would know that Draco was a mudblood. These were the last moments of his life.

"Good evening, Lord," he said, his heart beating a mile a minute. Even if Voldemort didn't feel what Draco's mind shrieked, his father had confirmed his treason by claiming that he had indeed slept with a mudblood. So did you, Draco thought. And he heard someone rise from the bed.

"There is no need to be worried, young Malfoy. Your father has explained the entire situation to me. And I have decided that my time would be better spent getting rid of the Potter child and furthering myself than tending to the rather messy demise of your family," he heard the Lord speak. His voice was deep and well-pronounced, echoing in the room like one thousand snakes. A bead of sweat fell from Draco's forehead as he saw the Lord's dark boots in front of him. "Your father's unfailing devotion to my cause has saved your life." He paused now, as if reminiscing on a previous sacrifice that had saved... someone. Draco knew not who. The Lord let out an irritated sigh. "Arise, please, there is no need right now to stand on ceremony."

Draco rose from the ground and stood now next to the Dark Lord. His face was still quite old, but intense. The eyes seemed to burn into his heart.

"I am afraid that I do...." he searched for the words. He had been taught to speak properly in front of his father's mentor and commander, "that I am unaware of the reason you have come here, Lord."

"Yes," Voldemort responded, "it was not my intention to ever set foot in Hogwarts while Dumbledore was still Headmaster, but this little development is quite a thorn in my side. But, with your help, it could very well blossom into a rose. I have only allowed my followers to send their children to Hogwarts in order to keep an eye on Potter, of course, as well as learn as much magic as possible and keep me aware of Dumbledore's activities, but you have given me more."

"Meaning, Lord."

"I want you to use the new CONTACTS you've forged to get me near Potter."

"What does a one-night stand that I took place in have to do with Harry Potter, if you don't mind my asking, Lord?"

"I think it will end up being more than a one-night stand, young Malfoy."

"I am confused, Lord." Lucius gave a chuckle as Draco held back from shooting him an official Go-to-Hell glance.

"Draco, you dimwit, surely you did not think you could be as sexually careless as you've been in the past and not have any consequences?"

"What?" He asked, and before he knew it, he had flown back against his wall, the back of his head once again colliding with the darkly painted border.

"How many times have I told you to address the Dark Lord with respect?" Lucius spat, his cane aimed at Draco. Suddenly, he recalled forgetting to address him as Lord. He wavered for a second as he suffered a quick head rush, then stood back up.

"What do you mean, Lord?"

"Nevermind. All will reveal itself in due time."

"I would very much like to know of what you speak," Draco prompted, quickly adding "Lord."

"You don't need to. Not right now. I have only told you what you need to know. The rest will come in due time."

"I want to know now!" He fell to the ground suddenly, as intense pain ripped through his body. He hadn't heard his father call out the Cruciatus Curse, but having felt it numerous times before, he cried out as tears suddenly purged their way to his face and onto the wooden floor.

"I will not have you speak to the Dark Lord in such a manner!"

"Lucius, calm, all in due time."

Then, Draco went unconscious.

He awoke with a start in his bed a day and a half later, surprised to find someone next to him. He recognized her immediately. The flat, dull brunette bob. Her face, when not scrunched up to look like a small ugly dog was sometimes cute to Draco, and he sat up, struggling to figure out why she was here. She'd had the weekend out to attend her mother's 17th wedding or something. But here she lay, nude and sleeping next to Draco.

"Pansy, what in bloody hell are you doing here?" She stirred at the sound of her name, and smiled weakly.

"Shite, it's almost time for breakfast."

"What day is it?"

"Monday. I must say, I was quite shocked when I'd heard you'd gotten back after your little week-long absence, but when I came in here to see you, you were asleep and I just couldn't contain myself," she laughed.

"How on earth did you manage to shag me while I was asleep?"

"Ah, a little nocturnal verbal and oral stimulation," he shook her off and got up, where he began dressing.

"I probably have so much bloody make-up work,"

"No, your mother called and told Snape that you'd had an absolutely ghastly family emergency, so he excused you from it," She spat, and Draco halted dressing. His mother was dead. But he remembered his father cutting the hairs from her corpse - 'just in case.' He shuddered, and slid on pants under his robes.

"Get dressed, Pansy, we'll be late for breakfast."

"What, you wanna make a big entrance? If memory recalls, Draco, we're not TOGETHER anymore, so why bother with formalities? I think I'll be late. Take a shower and all that bollocks."

"I don't want any points deducted from Slytherin, so put on some clothes, will ya, love?" He tossed her her black slacks before walking out of his room door.

Hermione looked around at breakfast as she poured over a book while Ron and Harry discussed rumors that You-Know-Who had been sighted near Hogwarts over the weekend. Apparently, the Daily Propher had reported that a few wizards had sighted Death Eaters following a carriage, and Harry looked visibly worried.

"Harry, Ron, I was here this whole weekend. I saw no carriage nor Voldemort - honestly, Ron - I think I would have noticed." She responded, moving her fork to pierce a peace of fruit on her plate.

"How was your weekend by the way?"

"Boring. I spent most of it in the library figuring out ways to cloak ourselves from the Maraurder's Map."

"Why?" Ron questioned, his mouth overflowing with bacon.

"Because, silly, if the thing ever gets taken up again, we don't want our continuous disregard for the rules and boundaries of Hogwarts made known to say, Snape or something. All of that," she said.

"Oh, fun. Hermione... what's on your neck?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you, like, burn yourself or something?" Her head suddenly popped up as she remembered Draco's words - "You've got some wicked hickeys." She felt herself blush, and nodded.

"Yeah, I was trying to curl my hair the muggle way, but since electic Muggle items don't work here at Hogwart's, I tried using a Heating Charm on a barrel of metal and it was just a disaster."

"That doesn't seem like you, Hermione, failing at magic," Harry said, laughing, then shooting a quick suspicious glance towards Ron, who blushed and nodded. Hermione took no notice. "Quite a Neville thing to do." He said, and she nodded again, going back to her Transfiguration notes.

She'd remembered what he'd said. Everything would be different on Monday. Everything would have to go back to normal. Harry and Ginny would flirt endlessly until she wanted to stab them with a fork. Ron would whine about how bad Viktor looked in his recent card (that he had gone out and bought at midnight the day they were released.) Draco would be an asshole again. And she, of course, would be expected to read and spout and argue just as normal.

"Um, Hermione, my family's taking me to a Cannon's game next week. You wanna come?" Ron asked, and she smiled. She could do for a little Quidditch. "Harry's coming, too, of course."

"I'd love to."