Wow, I never expected this story to hit the 20,000 word mark. I know that's not much for some people, but it definitely surprises me. This chapter is mainly about the Sues' affects on the Slytherins, but next chapter, I promise, we'll get back to the trio.
Pansy Parkinson was brassed right off. If Draco wanted to go gallivanting about with Gryffindors then that was his prerogative. It was just a phase, and she was going to accept it until it passed, then spend the rest of their lives mocking him for it.
He did not however have the right to transform the Slytherin common room into some sort of debauched haven for the poetically impaired. That boy could not run a pub if his life depended on it. He couldn't even tell the difference between ales and lagers, so he had no business trying to press her into ordering a martini.
At first it had been alright. She was hardly going to complain about having alcohol on school premises, and none of the teachers seemed to mind. It was getting ridiculous now though. People from other houses were lounging in the Slytherin commons, and someone had sabotaged all the lighting fixtures so you could hardly see a full metre ahead of you. Some absolute idiot had added to the chaos by conjuring a bunch of bats, and now you were lucky to get from one side of the room to the other without one of the horrid creatures diving at your face. All this, of course, was nothing compared to the steady stream of what that illiterate little Gryffindor called poetry.
Pansy sat in Herbology, professor Sprout's words passing right through her. She hadn't known that she was so angry. Until she'd come out here she'd felt alright, but something must have set her off. She was glad it had. She needed to be angry about this. It was absurd. What was Draco thinking? What was Snape thinking, allowing this to happen in the commons? Something had to be done.
She stared at her fingernails. It was as though the second she entered a greenhouse they summoned all the dirt they could fit under them.
No. No, she was angry. Draco was more important than her fingernails. She had to do something... she had to...
Alihotsy plants had really green leaves. She'd never really noticed before. They were so bright.
Pansy shook her head. Something weird was definitely going on. Something had to be done, and she was going to do it.
"But not alone," she muttered to herself.
"Hmm?" Blaise said from several seats away, "did you say something?"
"Oh, no. Wait, yes. Yes, what are you doing after class?"
Millicent Bulstrode turned around in her seat, "Could you two please wait until after class to make dates? I'm trying to learn, and you're really quite loud."
"If we were really quite loud," Blaise mocked her, "then Sprout would be saying something. See how she's not paying attention?" he looked around, then scoffed, "No-one's paying attention. Why did I even come to class? We're not actually doing anything here."
Millicent deflated, "I don't think Sprout's really trying today, to tell the truth. I don't blame her, hardly anyone showed up."
Pansy had been keeping a cautious eye on the professor, but at this she looked around, "You're right. We're the only Slytherins here. Where is everyone?"
"Common room. Listening to that Gryffindor and drinking," Blaise supplied.
"Oh, yeah, maybe we should go do that..." Millicent's brow creased, then she said, quite matter of factly, "but I'd rather not, really."
"That's it exactly!" Pansy stated loudly, then looked wide-eyed at professor Sprout. As the professor hadn't noticed her outburst, she continued, "The common room's become a travesty, and no-one cares."
"I care," Blaise assured her, though his heart wasn't in it.
"No, you don't!" Pansy insisted, "I don't even care and I'm horrified."
"You don't care... yet you're horrified?" Millicent asked.
"It's terrible in there, and I know it's terrible, but I also know that if I go back in I'm not going to do anything about it. I'll just buy a drink and listen to that Weasley girl."
"I think I know what you mean," Millicent conceded with a sigh, "Things have gotten a bit weird haven't they?"
"Listen, I think we should all talk about this, but I don't want to do it here. Do you want to go out by the lake after class and–"
"We don't need to wait for class to end," Blaise stood, "I've been skipping out of classes halfway through for a while now. No-one seems to mind, not even McGonagall."
"McGonagall doesn't mind?" Millicent asked, starting to slide her books back into her satchel, "I guess something really is wrong."
"I wouldn't be going anywhere with you two if I didn't think there was something to be worried about," Blaise said, heading to the greenhouse door without any hint of subtlety.
"We appreciate the time spent with you too Zabini," Pansy followed him out the door, making no effort to hold it open for Millicent behind her.
"The ground had best not be soggy," he muttered as they closed in on the lake.
"It's fine," Millicent stated, sitting quickly.
They sat in a rough approximation of a triangle, though Blaise took several seconds to spread his robes around him, making sure that none of his skin would touch any dirt.
"I'm worried about what's going on in our common room," Pansy said when everyone was settled, "and I'm really worried about Draco."
"Malfoy is what's going on in the common room," Millicent declared, "He's the one that let the Gryffindor in. Everything went badly after that."
"He's developed some sort of... perverse... fascination for her," Pansy explained.
"Do you perhaps mean love?" Blaise laughed, "Have you heard of this emotion?"
"That's not love," Pansy snapped, "What he feels for her has nothing in common with love. Not real love at least."
"Hmm," Blaise squinted at her, smiling slightly, "A love potion then. It has to have been a love potion."
"I don't know. I think maybe Malfoy's always had this in him," Millicent played with a loose thread on her sleeve.
"If you have ever considered yourself his friend, you will take that back right now!" Pansy snarled.
"I don't consider him my friend. Malfoy's a prat. He called me fat."
"You are fat."
"Shut up! You're ugly."
"Hag."
"Pug."
"Girls, girls," Blaise's voice dripped with condescension, "I'm sure he'd be very happy that you're fighting over him, but really, don't we have more important things to discuss than Malfoy?"
"Like what?" Pansy turned to him sharply.
"What do you think Crabbe and Goyle are doing right now?"
"Getting pissed no doubt."
"Correct, but not entirely."
"Well then what else are they doing?"
"Writing poetry."
"What?" Millicent interrupted, voice void of emotion, "You must be joking."
"I am not. I wish I were, but no. That kid who... she used to be a ginger... is that her name? Ginger? Anyway she–"
"Her name's not Ginger," Pansy cut in, "It's Gin... er, Gin..."
"Ger?" Millicent supplied sweetly.
"No! it– oh fine, it doesn't matter. What did she do?"
"I'm afraid she's seduced poor Vince and Greg away from our dear Draco."
"No," said Millicent with a look of utmost revulsion, "Not even she would sink that low. I– oh, I think I'm going to be ill."
"She's found uses for them that not even Draco thought of."
Millicent's look of horror became more pronounced.
"Oh my lord."
"Oh come off it Millicent," Pansy interjected, "you are such a pervert. That's not what he meant at all. Is it Blaise?" She turned to him, head slightly cocked.
"I simply meant that she has swept up their devotion. If miss Bulstrode interpreted that as something... obscene," he said the word with great joy, "then I can hardly be held accountable for what goes on in her square little head. Can I?"
"Umph," Millicent groaned, reaching out to shove at Blaise and blushing more than a little, "if your mind went half the places mine did... well, I guess you'd be quite a bit more intelligent than you are now, wouldn't you?"
"Don't touch me Milli," the boy said, knocking her hand away.
"Don't touch me peasant," she mimicked, "Believe it or not, I don't have cooties. Touches from girls are okay."
"You hardly count as a–"
"That is enough," Pansy's voice rose, "We have more important things to talk about." The last thing she needed was for Blaise to offend Millicent so much that she hit him, or said something back, because both of those scenarios ended with someone storming off in a huff, and she had neither the time nor the inclination to play social charades.
"What, exactly, is the relation between Ginger and the boys?"
Blaise opened his mouth, with a look on his face that promised an obscene answer, but his gaze fell upon Pansy's warning glare, and he rethought his response, "She's entranced them. They've spent the past few days down in the common room, drinking and listening to her. They're not coming to bed at night, and they're certainly not going to classes. It's really weird. None of the teachers seem to notice. I didn't even notice until you brought me out here," he frowned, "in fact, if you hadn't been so insistent, I was going to go back in and listen to some of her poetry myself. It's been hard to tear myself away from the common room. It's not even that nice down there... not really."
"No," said Millicent, "It's terrible now. There are drunk people everywhere, and that girl's poetry is... it's really bad."
The last statement was said with more emotion than any of them had heard in a very long time.
Pansy found herself nodding in agreement as Blaise said, "Oh yeah."
"I don't know though," Millicent leaned back, digging the heels of her palms into the earth, "I know it's bad when I think about it now, but when you hear it, it seems... deep. I don't know, it's like... it's like there's this little voice inside of you telling you how wonderful it is and how you need to hear more, and the voice... it just keeps getting more persistent the more you resist, until you just give in and everything feels... okay. It feels right... but not, no, it doesn't feel right, that's the wrong word... it's..."
"I know what you mean," Pansy said.
"We know what you mean," Blaise corrected.
"It's weird. I guess if we're all feeling like that then everyone must be feeling like that."
"Exactly, that's why we need to do something," Pansy leant forward.
"We don't need to do anything," Blaise threw his hands up in the air, "Ginger's a Gryffindor, she's the one causing all this trouble, let the Gryffindors deal with it!"
"Yeah? When?" Millicent demanded, "In case you haven't noticed, it's our common room she's infested, and I'm certain that as long as Malfoy's there she's not going to move. The Gryffindors aren't doing anything. They're probably glad to be rid of her."
"Do they even know she's there?" Blaise asked, "I mean, what if they all think she's lost, and Potter's crying himself to sleep at night because his girlfriend isn't there to tuck him in?"
"Oh come on," Pansy said, then smiled, "Everyone knows he's with the frizz-head."
"The mudblood?" Blaise laughed, "No, she's doing the ginger."
"Actually," Pansy lowered her voice conspiratorially, "she's doing both of them."
"You are full of it," Millicent stated, though she was smiling too.
"And Longbottom," Pansy grinned, "at the same time."
"And the squid, right?" Millicent snickered.
"The squid is always in on it," Pansy straightened, "but, aside from the Gryffindor love quadrangle, we really need to do something about this. It's troublesome, and I miss being able to sit in the common room, and I miss Draco."
"I honestly think we should tell Potter," Blaise said.
"People can't keep running to Potter every time something a little strange happens," Millicent fussed, "If we clear this up ourselves we might even be able to get enough house points to win the cup this year."
"No way," said Pansy the jaded, "Even if we cleared this up single-handedly they'd get it for, I don't know, the taming of the squid. House cup is rigged."
"Fine then," said Millicent, "let's run squealing to Potter. He'll save us all."
"I think you mean that he'll get into the dangerous and possibly fatal situation that this is no doubt going to lead to," Blaise said bluntly.
"Fatal how? Is Ginger going to recite poetry at him till his brain liquefies and runs out his ears?"
"Maybe," Blaise shrugged, "I think I heard my mum talking about a curse that does that."
"Wouldn't it run out your nose before your ears?" Pansy asked, "and anyways, she probably wouldn't need to. Some of the things Draco serves have got to be poisonous."
"Aww, did my little flower get a hangover?"
"Shut up Zabini. We're decided then. Telling Potter and hoping for the best?"
"I wouldn't say we leave it at that. More like telling Potter and following at a safe distance."
"I'm alright with that," Millicent conceded, "When should we do it though?"
"Now's as good a time as any," Pansy got to her feet, "The sooner we say something the sooner we can expect to have something done about it."
"What? You want to wander around the castle and hope we bump into them? What if they're already on some stupid mission? I don't want to spend my day wandering around like some lost puppy," despite his protests, Blaise got to his feet, and it may have been truly accidental that his foot swung out and hit Millicent's arm.
"Watch it!" said Millicent, rubbing the place where he'd kicked her, "I think you're right, but, uh, look. I want to do something before we go back to the castle. It was kind of hard to get out here and I think that maybe when we go back we might... that little voice might come back and tell us we're being silly or something. We need to make sure that we're actually going to tell Potter," Millicent rose slowly and drew out her wand, rolling it between her fingers.
"We've agreed, haven't we?" Blaise scoffed, "No-one's going to bunk it up."
"She's right," Pansy conceded, "we could go back in and then something would happen. We'd feel foolish, and decide that telling Potter was stupid after all."
"Nothing will happen."
"It will!" Millicent insisted, "At least it could, and do you really want to take that chance?"
Blaise rolled his eyes, "well what do you suggest we do? A clear-thinking charm?"
"That wouldn't go amiss," Pansy spoke contemplatively, "but we should do something else too, maybe making some sort of promise..."
"I am not making an unbreakable vow over this," Blaise crossed his arms, "Think of something else."
"That would be extreme," Millicent said, "but we could just come to an ordinary agreement. Say... if someone backs out of telling Potter then they have to take off their robes and run around the Great Hall tomorrow morning."
"Pfft!" Blaise laughed, "Then you'll spend all your time trying to get me to back out."
"No," said Pansy and Millicent in unison.
"The problem with that is," Pansy continued, "We'd all back out together, and no-one would hold the others to it. It's a good idea; it just needs to be tweaked. Change it to: the first person to mention backing out has to take their robes off and run around the Great Hall during breakfast tomorrow morning. That way we can all think it, but no-one can do anything about it."
"That works," agreed Millicent, starting off toward the castle, "Now hurry. I'd rather find them before curfew so we don't have to spend all night looking for them because we can't give up."
"If we have to spend a whole night looking for those idiots... I will never forgive either of you," Blaise muttered as he and Pansy approached the castle, "and I will have vengeance."
Pansy just snickered at him, and wondered when he'd find out that his robes were extremely good at picking up the dirt he'd been sitting on.