A/N: It feels like I've been slacking off in updating, but I promise it's for a good cause! I'm developing a multi-chapter (and plot, hehe) fic. It's tentatively titled "The Sanctity Of Blood" and it's gonna ship Lucius and Narcissa. Anyways, has anyone seen the new HP movie yet? I'm going to see it this weekend, but I've been watching GoF religiously for the past couple days to get "in the mood" for the next movie, and thus, this chapter was born. Thanks for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this update:)
The Price
"Do—do you believe him?" Her voice was quivering.
"I don't know…""Cedric Diggory is dead."
"I heard," he snapped. "The whole fucking school heard." Draco couldn't shake the image of Diggory's body lying eagle-spread on the ground, his eyes still open in mild surprise. Nor would he soon forget the cries of Diggory's father, weeping over the boy.
"Potter said… he said the Dark Lord—" She couldn't finish her sentence. She could barely fathom it. How could You-Know-Who have risen again after so long?
"My father—he would have told me something," Draco mused. Wouldn't he?
Pansy sat under a tree, her knees held tight against her chest, staring out blankly into the clearing. "They never talk of it, you know. They never tell me, no matter how I beg, they never tell me what happened… before."
His father had. "You don't want to know, Pans."
"Tell me."
"No, I can't."
"Tell me, Draco." There was a hardness in her voice that he never heard before. She was still staring into nothing, not seeming to notice him leaning on the tree beside her. He could sense that she wouldn't let him go without answering her question.
He took a deep breath. "People died the last time… a lot of people. Muggles and wizards, no matter the blood. Everyone was scared. Everyone was running for their lives, but there was no where to run to. You couldn't trust anyone because you never knew who was in league with him. The Ministry couldn't do anything to stop it. It lasted eleven years."
"I had an older brother once," she whispered after a few silent moments. "The Parkinson heir. He was in Slytherin, too—a prefect and brilliant at Transfiguration. He had just gotten a job at the Ministry, when…." He turned to her and saw the tears that were silently streaming down her face.
"Everyone has a story like yours."
"But they shouldn't!" she snarled, her eyes flashing. "No one should have a story like this! They should have brothers and sons and fathers—not stories!" Her harsh breathing filled the space between them.
Draco was quiet and waited while she calmed down. Finally, he said quietly, "We each pay a price for our beliefs, Pansy. For some it's time, or money, or comfort… If you believe in the sanctity of blood, then the price is blood. The penalty is steep and unforgiving, and sometimes… others must pay it."
Understanding dawned on her. "You're going to join them, aren't you?"
He nodded grimly. "I have no choice. I was born into the Blood, as were you, or have you forgotten? What else are we to do when all that we believe in is threatened? Anything less than devotion to the cause is blood treason."
"I'm not going to kill for a belief," she spat.
Draco looked down at her sadly. "Then pray to Merlin that you won't die for one either."