Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am merely playing with them while wishing they were mine, especially Draco. Heh heh heh heh…
Plot: Everyone writes Pansy Parkinson as a big, whiny, and ugly brat, but what if she wasn't? In one awful night, she lost her family and hardly anyone understands what she is going through. How will Pansy get through the summer and her last year at Hogwarts when the Dark Lord is getting ready for one last strike…
A/N: Thanks for being so patient, people. Sorry the update took so long. Love ya!
Helpless
Last time…
"Have you ever told the truth, Parkinson?" he snapped back.
"What does the truth matter to you coming from someone like me?" she sneered. When he said nothing, she nodded. "That's what I thought. It means nothing."
Sick of this confrontation, Pansy pivoted on her heel and walked away, leaving Potter to go to hell if he wished.
Chapter Thirteen
Granger really needs to keep her mind on what she wants, Pansy thought as she recounted what happened to the Gryffindor to Blaise and Draco. Especially if she wants something from a Slytherin.
She kept a close watch on Draco as she did. If he had anything to do with this, she'd—hmm, what would she do? Curse him? Kill him?
But all through her story, Draco had a light frown on his face, his eyes unguarded. He choked when she suggested Granger's attacker was in the car during the prefect meeting. Pansy had to conclude that he had nothing to do with it.
"And she didn't once reach for her wand?" asked Blaise. "What sort of witch forgets she's a witch? I mean—"
Pansy interrupted. "I didn't have my wand, Zabini, but even if I did, I very much doubt I would have used it. When you are faced with a threat, one that is shared universally by women, it doesn't occur to you to whip it out and use it. A man is bigger and uses his body to assault you, not spells. You react instinctively."
"Isn't using your wand instinctive, Pansy? You are, after all, a pureblood," said Draco, his silvery gray eyes heated.
"I am a woman first and foremost, Draco," she said softly, wishing she hadn't spoken up in Granger's, and hers, defense. "Magic is second."
It was late in the afternoon around five o'clock, after all their classes. They were by the lake. It was quiet and the weather quite agreeable. The other students kept their distance. Blaise, who was looking out across the lake, asked between clenched teeth, "Will she be okay?"
Pansy studied Blaise. Why was he angry? Because he asked about Granger or was it something else she didn't know about? "Granger's strong. I don't believe this will consume her, but I want to find out who did this."
"As do I," said Draco. The serious timbre of his voice went to the center of her soul. He sounded dangerous, and she could nearly believe that he was Voldemort's youngest and most trusted assassin. "A student like that will endanger us all, regardless of his alliance to either side or to himself."
"Well, how do we go about catching this guy?" Blaise turned to face them. "Granger's description of this 'student' doesn't help us."
Pansy tapped her chin thoughtfully. "With all the books she's read, I'm positive she'll know which spell was used. The only problem is how do we get the information out of her?"
Draco and Blaise shared a look. Then Draco smiled, "Looks like you're going to get a new best friend."
"Oh, hell no!" she cried. "No way in bloody hell am I gonna play nice with her."
"Pansy, you're being unreasonable." Blaise sat on the grass beside her. "It's not like we're asking you to get all sorts of dirt on her." He chuckled, "Actually, can you ask if that dominatrix rumor is true?"
"No time for that, Blaise," Draco put in. "Pans, can you do it?"
She looked from Blaise to Draco and then upwards. She sighed loudly. "Fine. I'll do it, but if I start asking questions about it, she'll know I told someone, probably you two."
"Worry about that when you come to it, Pans." Blaise smiled at her. "But do ask her, okay?"
"Blaise," she sighed.
Draco ignored Blaise and said, "Get to it, Pansy."
"Now?"
Draco crossed his arms. Blaise glanced at him and did the same, putting a stern look.
"I hate you guys," Pansy muttered, getting up.
She started to dust her ass off when Blaise shot up. Excited, he said, "No, no, Pans. I'll do that for you."
His hand got one glancing blow before she jumped behind Draco. She said, "You pervert."
Blaise raised his hands up in a shrug. "I am what I am. Take me and love me."
"Pansy, go do what you have to. I need to have a good ol' chat with Blaise here." Draco didn't even look at her when he said this. Pansy frowned, but she did what he said.
Walking around the castle, Pansy didn't have the first clue of where to look for Granger. It wasn't as if she could go up to someone ask, "Excuse me, but do you know where Granger is?"
She snorted to herself. Yeah, that was likely. Why did she have to be the one to interrogate her? Draco could do that possibly even better than she could. No, she didn't mean that. It was better that Pansy did it than Draco. She could not forget Granger's little slip up the day before.
I was taking a moment to…compose myself.
That brought too many ideas of what Draco did to make Granger lose her composure. Nope, Granger would just have to stay the hell away from Draco.
Right, like they could stay away from each other, she thought. They live together, and no doubt spend some part of the day together.
Pansy didn't know why this was making her feel jealous. She had no claim on Draco. Yes, he cared for her. He let her live in his house, for Merlin's sake! He was basically there for her, and so was Blaise. It just didn't make any fucking sense.
Stalking around the castle was beginning to earn her suspicious looks. Pansy didn't like that. She wanted to stay out sight, or out of mind at least.
Come on, Parkinson, use that brain of yours. Where would a girl like Granger spend her time at? The Gryffindor common room? Nah, those loud braggarts would grate on her nerves as she tried to study…STUDY!
Of course! Stupid her! The library was the most logical and predictable choice. Pansy shook her head and started towards the library.
Bursting through the doors like a madwoman earned her a reproving "SH!" from Madam Pince. Pansy met the older woman's glare with a smirk and walked into the library as quiet as can be.
Look for a bushy head. Big, brown, and bushy, have you seen her?
Pansy looked down the rows of books, searching for Granger. She even went for a look at the tables. No sign of her anywhere—there she is.
Granger was at the very back, nearly hidden by a bookcase. No one was at any of the tables, but Pansy still didn't quite trust enough to go straight to the Gryffindor. So she took the long way, making her way through the bookcases to the very back table.
She surprised Granger by popping out of nowhere. Granger gasped and dropped the book she was reading.
Pansy smirked, pleased she'd been able to sneak up on her. She took another careful look around, making sure she was not visible to anyone on the other side of the room. Then she sat down. "So, what is it that you're reading so intently?"
She snatched the book before Granger could move.
"No!" Granger hissed, making a grab of the book.
Pansy only smirked deeper and looked at the pages…her jaw dropped. Shocked as all hell, she whispered, "Granger! Your reading material does not meet school standards." She turned the book sideways. "First of all, the man clearly has no idea of what he's doing nor does the woman. That particular position is probably painful."
"Pansy, give it back," she pleaded.
"I would never have thought you to be the type to look at this sort of thing."
"Don't say it."
"Really, you're such a good girl, too."
"No…"
"But looking at sex books? I'm disappointed in you, Granger." Ah, it felt so good to annoy her. She could do this forever, but she was on a mission. Pansy tossed the book carelessly back to her. "Fine. I guess that Dominatrix thing isn't true then?"
Granger rolled her eyes. "I'm so tired of hearing about that. Honestly, I have no idea how that rumor got started."
Pansy thought on her words and smiled. "I don't hear you denying it, Granger. My good friend Blaise Zabini wants to know if you'd take clients from Slytherin. You can get back to him about that later. I have business to discuss with you."
Granger looked at her suspiciously. "Business? What kind of business?"
"The incident that happened on the train, the man," Pansy said. "You said his face was distorted somehow. Would that be the result of a spell?"
The girl scoffed. "Why are you asking me? I just want to forget it ever happened." Granger's gaze sharpened. "You told someone, didn't you? You said you wouldn't—"
"I said no such thing," Pansy interrupted. "Look, I'm trying to get this guy. Can you help me or not."
"Who did you tell, Pansy?"
"That's not the point, Granger."
"You told Malfoy, didn't you? Let me guess, he laughed when you told him I'd been assaulted. He probably—"
"Shut the fuck up, Granger. You don't know anything about Draco. Besides, he does not like the idea of a female being assaulted," Pansy snarled. "Even if it is you."
Granger seemed to get the picture that she'd gone too far. In a subdued voice, she asked, "Is that why you're here? To get information from me in hopes of catching this man before he can hurt another girl?"
Pansy nodded.
"If he was using a spell to disguise himself, it could have been any number of them." Granger fell silent. "I think I can narrow it down to two or three spells based on what I saw. I'll write them down for you, Pansy."
She watched Granger pull out a bit of parchment and quill, and scribbled them down. Granger slid it across the table. Pansy took it and read it.
"Even with this, Granger, I'm no closer to getting him. You said he was somehow familiar." Pansy paused to figure out where she was going with this. "Yet, his face was unrecognizable. What if we could get his image from your mind and freeze it in some way? Perhaps then we could do the counterspell and see his face."
"How? Unless you have a Pensieve, Pansy, I don't see how your plan will work," said Granger.
Okay, she's getting a little too friendly using my first name, thought Pansy.
"I know Dumbledore has a Pensieve, but I seriously doubt he'd allow us to use it."
"I know someone who has one," she murmured. The words were out before she could recall them. She had to backtrack fast. "But I don't know if he'd let us use it."
Actually, she knew he would. Draco seemed to think this guy was a threat. Huh, okay, he was a threat. Draco would do anything and everything to get him.
"Do you really think we'll catch him?" Granger asked.
Pansy looked at her. "We?" She tipped her head to one side to play for some time. It would give Granger closure on the whole thing, and she's a sucker for doing the right thing, but when it comes to dealing out the punishment, she'd have to be out. "Fine. You can help…so long as you don't mind working with Draco and Blaise."
She smirked when she caught Granger's subtle shudder.
"I'll have to talk to my guy about the Pensieve first, though," Pansy said. "I'll let you know how it goes."
"How will I talk to you? It's not as if I can go up to you in public, Pansy. Your House would tear me to shreds," she chuckled lightly, "that is if they get to me before my own House does."
"You're Head Girl. I'm sure you can use that excuse, but just be sure not to use it too much. Then it will be suspicious." Pansy stood up to leave. "I'll speak to you later."
Don't say my name, Granger. Don't say my name—
"Wait, Pansy…"
That was just too much.
She snapped, "I don't believe I gave you leave to use my first name, Granger."
That made the Gryffindor stutter something awful. She babbled incoherently.
"Look, if you're going to work with Slytherins, here's the first rule. Do not ever use their first name. That would indicate a certain level of trust and respect. I don't trust you because you're in Gryffindor, and as for respect…it's up in the air for me."
Granger merely nodded. Satisfied, Pansy then left her in the library alone.
Draco was not going to like that Granger working with them, but it was something of a lucky break. As they had their own dormitory, they could use it to meet and discuss ways of bringing this bastard down.
"Hey, Parkinson!" someone called.
Pansy turned on reflex. She nearly cursed when she saw Harry Potter coming down the corridor towards her. His eyes locked onto hers. The challenging gleam in them made her wait instead of walking off and ignoring him.
When he was close enough, she asked in a bored drawl, "What do you want, Potter?"
"Explain to me why I should let you go."
Huh?
"What the hell are you talking about, Potter?" she asked scathingly.
Potter stopped a mere foot away. Pansy gritted her teeth when she was forced to look up to him. He was as tall as Draco. She hated tall boys.
"Explain to me why I should let you go when you've…upset Hermione yesterday on the train," he said seriously. "I only let you pass because I was so concerned about her. Now, I want answers."
Of all the things he had to say to her! But she didn't miss his pause and the way his eyes lost their hardened edge. What was going through that ego-ridden head of his?
"What did she tell you?"
"Some bullshit story of a guy not leaving her alone when you came along."
That's close enough.
Pansy forced herself to scoff. "Well, I don't know what to tell you because that's the truth. You don't have to believe that I have a soft spot in me when I see a girl being badgered by an utterly disgusting guy."
She started to walk away. He called after her. "That's bullshit. You know it and I know it."
Pansy stopped and looked over her shoulder. "Good thing it doesn't matter to me what you think, isn't it?"
Potter stared at her with an indescribable look on his face. Then he whispered, "I know, Parkinson."
"You know what? My cup size?"
He ignored that jab. He continued to look at her, but what unnerved her the most was that he seemed to be looking inside of her. Potter whispered, "I know what happened this summer."
She was frozen. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He couldn't know, couldn't possibly know. Everything she'd locked away from that night—every emotion, thought, memory—all of it was screaming. Her control was rapidly slipping. The only thing that passed her lips before she fled was, "No, you don't."
Pansy ran all the way to the Slytherin dormitory, desperate to find Draco or Blaise. The shield she kept around the events that led to her fall from grace was breaking. She ran up to their room and pounded on the door until it was opened by Goyle. She shoved her way past him and dashed into the room. Draco was sitting on his bed reading a letter, but when he saw her, his eyes widened in alarm and he sat up.
He ordered Crabbe and Goyle out, as well as another boy whose name escaped her at the moment. The second the door closed, she flung herself into his arms before he could even raise himself off the bed and began to sob. He held her all the while in his lap, stroking her hair and whispering, "It's all right."
When she managed to get a grip of herself, she apologized and moved off his lap to beside him. Then she related what had just happened. "How could he know, Draco?"
"Before we jump to conclusions, Pans, let's make sure of what exactly he knows. I'll take care of it tonight." He looked at the clock beside his bed. "Dinner's starting. Are you able to face the Great Hall?"
Pansy took a mental inventory of herself and found herself lacking. She shook her head. "I can't, Draco. He'll be watching me. I can't f-face him."
Her eyes started to water again. She was beginning to despise herself. Draco only hugged her close. "Shh. Don't worry, Pansy." He rubbed her back and then he said, "Here, lay down. Go to sleep."
"Here?" she asked.
His gray eyes flashed with annoyance. "Unless you want to go back to your room."
She shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine."
Nervously, she laid down. Draco went to the chest at the foot of his bed and opened it. He took out a blanket and unfolded it, draping it over her. As he tucked it around her, Pansy breathed in deeply, taking in the clean scent of him and drawing comfort from his familiar scent.
He sat down beside her. "Go to sleep, Pans. You'll feel better after you've gotten some rest. Don't worry, I'll take care of Potter."
Draco started to rise, but Pansy grabbed hold of his wrist. Looking up at him, Pansy whispered, "Stay with me? Just until I fall asleep…please?"
She felt pleasure when his pale eyes softened and warmed as he looked at her. Draco nodded and he laid down beside her. Pansy sighed, comforted by his warm presence and scent. His arm wrapped around her, drawing her close to his chest, and that was the last thing she was aware of.
Draco watched Pansy sleep. Her eyelashes were crescent moons upon her pale cheeks. Her berry-stained lips slightly open in slumber. She was relaxed and deeply asleep. He knew that from watching her sleep so many times at the Manor, keeping guard against her nightmares.
He'd heard of a muggle story of a beautiful girl who'd pricked herself on a spinning wheel and fell into a deep sleep. In the story, she could only be awoken with a kiss from her prince. Sleeping Beauty, that's what they called her. Pansy looked like Sleeping Beauty. He wondered who would be the one to wake her.
He shook his head at his thoughts. This was not the time to be thinking of something like that. A certain wizard was due for an interrogation.
A sneer settled on his face. He shouldn't have forgotten that Potter was connected to Voldemort. That meant it was possible he knew what had happened to Pansy.
Draco looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms. A strange feeling clawed at his chest. She had to be protected. He would never allow her to be hurt again. Never.
On this thought, he carefully pulled away from her and left the bed. Pansy rolled over, settling on the very spot he had been. She sighed deeply and continued to sleep. Draco pulled the curtains shut and put a protection spell on the curtains, ensuring she remained asleep and undisturbed. No one could touch the curtains without being blown off their feet. Only those who knew the counterspell could take it off.
He left the dormitory and went directly to the Great Hall. He sat down at the Slytherin table in his usual place and scanned the Gryffindors for Potter. As soon as Draco picked him out, he then began to eat a few bites here and there, but not really touching his food.
Blaise leaned close and asked, "Where's Pansy?"
"She's asleep. Potter shook her up, so after dinner, I'll be having a conversation with the bastard."
"What did he say?" Blaise asked concerned.
Draco looked at his friend. He didn't like that Blaise was as protective as he was. Draco stopped and inwardly scoffed. There was no reason he should be acting or feeling like this.
"He said something about knowing what happened this summer."
"Damn it," Blaise swore. He looked angrily in Potter's direction before turning back to him. "You want a hand?"
"No, but there is something I need you to do."
"What?"
Draco pushed his plate away and asked, "Are you going to eat any more?" Blaise shook his head. "Follow me then." Outside the Great Hall, Draco said, "Right now, Pansy is sleeping in our room on my bed." He didn't miss Blaise's narrowed gaze. "I need you to go to the kitchens and get her something to eat. Then go back to the room and make sure she's okay."
"You didn't…" Blaise trailed off, but his implication was clear.
"No, I didn't touch her in any way you're thinking, Zabini." Students began to leave the Great Hall, and he lowered his voice. "As if I'd take advantage of her like that."
"Had to be sure," he said. "Don't worry, Draco. I'll look after her."
Draco nodded. He spotted Potter alone. "Okay, I'm going after him. I'll see you later."
Blaise grinned. "Fine, but I want details."
He followed Potter at a discreet distance until they turned down a deserted corridor. Draco made sure no one was behind him before he called out. "Hey, Potter. I want to talk to you."
Potter put on an expression of mock surprise. "The Great Draco Malfoy wants to talk? To me? What have I done to invite this?"
"What the hell did you say to Pansy?"
"Your girlfriend?" Potter asked sarcastically. He shrugged carelessly. "I just told her I knew what went on this summer."
"And what was that?" he asked in a low voice.
Potter looked around and leaned towards him. In an equally low voice, he said, "Pucey."
His gut clenched painfully. There was no way he could know. Voldemort said he controlled the connection. He would not have allowed Potter to know what transpired. Draco forced an easy smirk. "What about Pucey? How's he doing?"
"He's dead, and you were there."
Draco's eyes widened in heartfelt shock. "Really?"
Potter smiled. "You don't really believe that Voldemort would sever the connection between us, do you? He's too desperate for information to do that." He adjusted his robes. "So, now that I know, what are you going to do?"
He strolled up to Potter easily, hands in his robe pockets. "Well, first off," he looked up, "you made her upset." Draco struck Potter in the face. Potter fell against the wall. "Second, you made the mistake of flaunting your hand. Third, just what the hell were you thinking, Potter?"
Anger flared in Potter's eyes. He stood up quickly. "You think I care what happens to your little bitch? God knows I should go straight to Dumbledore and tell him everything."
Rage threatened to consume him. He was losing control. No one would ever hurt her again. Draco lunged at Potter and fisted his hands in the Gryffindor's robes. He pulled him off the wall and slammed him hard against it.
"Well, why didn't you?" asked Draco.
Potter looked away from his glare, his face troubled. "I had a feeling there was something else behind it, something I didn't know."
"There is." Draco let go and moved away.
"What?"
"You don't want to know, Potter," Draco said, his head hung low. He could still feel that tingle of failure. "And you're better off not knowing, trust me."
"Hey, I've heard the stories about him, Malfoy. I've heard he was a bastard even by Slytherin standards. So if Pucey got what he deserved, then the hell with him." Potter stepped close to Draco. "But if that isn't the case, then I have to do what's right and turn you and her in for murder."
Draco looked sharply at him. "You wouldn't understand, Potter. What he did to her is something I would never wish upon another person, not even Granger, and I detest her more than you can possibly guess. He did deserve to die. I wish he died a million—no, an infinite—times more."
"What happened?"
The heartfelt concern on Potter's face nearly made him spill the entire story, but then Draco remembered who he was talking to. The mask hardened and he watched the wary look come back to Potter's eyes.
"What do you care?" sneered Draco. "She's just a little bitch to you, remember? She doesn't need your help, Golden Boy. We'll get through this by ourselves."
Potter glared at him. "Why can't you accept help when it's offered?"
"Slytherins don't take charity," Draco spat.
His face softening, Potter whispered, "It's okay to lean on someone once in a while, Malfoy. Let me help."
Disgusted by how much he actually wanted to take Potter up on his offer, Draco spun away. "You don't understand how it's done, Potter. For others, it might be okay to accept help, but not for me, not when I've—"
He broke off, not willing to share anymore with his rival. Draco shook his head and finished what he was going to say in his mind.
Not when I've killed so many. I don't deserve it.
"Malfoy…"
"Slytherins don't take charity," Draco repeated firmly. "Especially from people who should know better." He turned around to face Potter, fingering his wand. "Now, why don't you run along before I finish you off once and for all."
Potter looked from Draco's wand to his face. "If you kill me, there'd be no one to stop Voldemort. You don't want that, do you?"
Draco shrugged. "There are others who have a better chance of stopping him than you, Potter. You'd be no big loss."
"I would be. Without me, Voldemort would triumph. A prophecy tells of it—"
Sneering, Draco said, "Just because there's a prophecy, it doesn't actually mean it will come true the way it says. Anything is possible, Potter."
"You're a fool, Malfoy," Potter said, shaking his head. "You could have been a great asset to the Light. People will die because of your choice."
"As long as it's the people under my protection who will live, I don't care," Draco replied. His eyes grazed the lightning scar on Potter's forehead. "If you murmur but a word about her, I'll kill you, Potter."
"I won't say a word, Malfoy, but you have to tell me why she did it," Potter bartered. "Otherwise, I'm going straight to Dumbledore."
Draco gauged the sincerity of Potter's threat to be genuine. What choice did he have? Say no and be arrested? Let Pansy be taken without giving her the opportunity of getting her revenge?
He doubted Voldemort would be pleased that his favorite assassin and potential weapon were arrested. That would mess up whatever plans he had. Of course, the Dark Lord would swoop in and release them, but then he and Pans would be on the run. Voldemort wouldn't risk keeping them close to him. They'd be sent somewhere far. That wouldn't work.
Hitting Potter with a spell was too risky. Potter would retaliate, make a lot of noise as he did so, and get Draco in serious trouble—likely expulsion. That was out as well. He had to stay here and make sure Pans was protected. Blaise could be counted on, but he was too much of a risk-taker.
"Well?" Potter prompted.
"I'm thinking," Draco growled.
Rushing Potter and beating the shit out of him was thought worthy. Afterwards, he could use a simple memory spell. That was—out of the question. Too bad.
It looked like the only way to do all the things he had to do was tell Potter. Draco really, REALLY didn't want to, but it was the only choice.
"Fine, but you can't tell a soul," Draco said harshly. "I mean it, Potter. This is something that I do not want to get out and I'd everything in my power to keep it that way." He took a moment to steel himself.
"Pucey," he spat the name out, "raped her."
It's done! skips around the room, bounces on the bed Yeah, it's been a while since I updated. I'm sorry. I think this chapter was a good one, don't you? :blows kisses:
Until next time! – TG