Chapter 11- Pugilistic Parkinson pays a visit
Pansy tried to avoid going to Draco's apartment as much as she possibly could. She did this because it reminded her that her erstwhile best friend had recently become deranged and moved in with Granger. As in Gryffindor Granger... as in the swamp creature from the deep with buck teeth, disastrous hair and all the answers.
Pansy shuddered openly thinking about how unattractive Granger was.
Worst of all, Pansy was beginning to suspect that Draco not only liked the thing but was beginning to become unhealthily attached.
She'd indulged his flippant whims long enough- if he wouldn't do it, she would have to put his little pet down. Really, she'd be doing the world a favour- not just Draco.
Blaise complicated things though. Blaise seemed to like Granger too. Pansy put it down to Boomslangskin induced psychosis. But still, Blaise wasn't the kind of person Pansy wanted to get on the wrong side of. She'd done it before and barely lived to tell the tale after the very public revenge he'd wreaked.
It was with this very humiliating thought that she found herself face to face with the very blue door of what Blaise and Draco seemed to affectionately term 'The Den of Maleficence'. Apparently it was a Potter reference, Pansy didn't want to know.
She wrapped smartly on the door, taking care to avoid chipping her ruby red nails.
It took a long moment during which Pansy tried to restrain an eye roll. Eventually she heard some muffled activity and then the door opened.
She came face to face with a hard, lean chest. A hard lean chest and pecs. A hard lean chest and pecs... and biceps.
Oh not to be mistaken, Pansy was not looking appreciatively at the body of some Adonis on steroids. She was not the kind of girl that went in for that. Those kinds of muscles never looked good in clothes. She likes the wiry but fit type of body that she was being presented with. That is, she liked the body until her eyes inevitably raised to the head attached.
Green eyes, round glasses, nasty scar and greasy bed hair.
Oh god, she'd just given Potter a very indiscreet once over.
Before she could even do so much as feign a look of disgust, he had slammed the door in her face. Really, it was a little disorienting. First she found herself attracted to possibly the most annoying person on the face of the planet and then she had a door slammed in her face so hard that she was worried the gust of wind that had preceded the actual sound of the slamming of the door might have mussed up her hair.
This time she did roll her eyes. Then she knocked again, this time with more vigour.
She heard a very impolite word muttered from behind the door and then a scuffle. Finally the blue door opened once more.
This time it was the swamp creature.
"Oh, come on in Parkinson- don't mind Harry. I'm afraid Blaise is out but Draco's skulking around in the kitchen trying to guilt people into working the toaster for him."
Pansy resisted the urge to flick Granger in the nose and tell her to shut up. Instead she waltzed past her haughtily down the hall and into the lounge.
Granger didn't follow, she did however huff irritably.
Draco was indeed in the kitchen and looking rather morose.
"Pansy!" he greeted, his eyes lighting up, "Do you know how to work a toaster?"
Pansy stopped dead in her tracks, her eyebrows rising sky high, "God no! Don't you have people to do that for you?"
Draco heaved a dramatic sigh, "I've been cut off- remember? Besides, Hermione would never allow it."
Pansy felt her eye twitch.
"Oh well, dear Hermione- wouldn't want to upset her, would we Draco?" she smiled her best sickly sweet smile.
Draco scowled.
"What do you want Pan?"
"What I want to know right now is," Pansy said taking a seat on the kitchen table and crossing her long, smooth legs, "why Potter answered the door when I knocked?"
She also mentally added, and why is he so delectable looking nowadays?
"Oh, that," Draco said darkly, his eyes narrowing, "He's a house guest. His house is apparently inhospitable now or something. Anyway, I think he's just here to spy on us."
Pansy shrugged, "It's probably unlikely that he would have gone to all that effort to keep you out of Azkaban just to later spy on you to try to put you in there."
"No, no," Draco replied shaking his head vehemently, "he's spying for Weasley."
"Oh," Pansy replied, "well in that case. Yes that's highly likely."
She picked up a shiny silver spoon from the table and checked her reflection, smacking her bright red lips for effect. She ran a hand through a less than dead-straight portion of her silky, black bob and smoothed it out. Perfection.
"What are you really here for?" Draco asked, "Are you here to take me out to lunch?" he added hopefully.
Pansy rolled her eyes, "Oh, if you insist."
Draco cheered happily and threw himself on her, squeezing her.
"God Draco, do they not feed you here?"
"Not Castrilano's anyway," he hinted.
Pansy huffed, "We're going to have to flu. I don't want to get soot all over my new dress."
"It's a fabulous dress Pan, really. Think of the Martini's if you won't think of the food!"
Well... that was a good point.
"Oh all right," she said with a long suffering sigh, "Shall we wait for Blaise?"
Draco shook his head, "He's working on an assignment at uni. Besides, I think he's trying for one last hook up with the Patil girl. Break up sex, you know- he can never resist."
Pansy shuddered, "That's disgusting."
Draco raised an eyebrow, "You don't like break up sex?"
"God no," Pansy said, "I love break up sex. I don't like Patil!"
He shrugged, "She's pretty hot though, if you can get past the fact that she was a Gryffindor."
"Which evidently you can," Pansy said frowning, "because you live with Queen Beaver."
"Don't start Pansy," Draco warned.
Well, she wouldn't because it made her sick but perhaps she could give him a taste of his own medicine.
"Potter's turned into quite the man," she simpered.
Draco's eyes bulged a little, "Pansy, that's disgusting."
"No really," she continued evilly, "take away those horrid glasses and I could see what everyone is going on about. Have you seen his body? I wonder how much training they must have to do to become Aurors."
Draco looked like he was about to wretch, "Please stop."
Pansy didn't want to- a) because she loved teasing Draco and b) because she found she didn't want to.
"Don't you think he's a little dangerous looking nowadays? Though, that could just be because he killed You-know-who."
"No," Draco snapped, "I don't think so. Nor do I care."
Pansy shrugged, "I'm just saying..."
"Well you can stop saying whatever it is you were just going to say," another voice said.
They spun around.
Oh horror, it was Potter.
He was glaring at Pansy with undisclosed hatred, hatred that seemed to burn to the very core of his being.
"You make me sick Parkinson," he growled, his eyes narrowed and glinting dangerously, "didn't you once try to sell me to the Dark Lord?"
His presence was in one word- intimidating. He was clenching his fists tightly, staring down at her from across the room and she could feel the energy reverberating off of him from where she sat.
"Don't ever come near me, ever again," Potter warned with a sharp edge to his voice that promised that he was dead serious.
Then he spun on his heel and stormed out of the lounge room.
"Merlins balls," Draco whispered, "I think he hates you even more than he hates me."
Pansy blinked once.
"You might be right."
She was tingling all over and not in a bad way.