Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own Harry Potter. As always – author's notes at the end!

oOoOo

Rule number fifteen: Love is weakness; weaknesses can be exploited.

Valentine's Day fell on a Saturday, which made the holiday that much more important for couples, because they could spend the day together in Hogsmeade. Dumbledore was even convinced to queue up the carriages for a private, romantic ride into town. The plans for a romantic afternoon seemed to spark a craze among the single students to find a partner for the event, either out of fear of being thought of as an undesirable or just to take part in the experience. Draco tried to avoid the hubbub as best he could, but his attempts were foiled on the Tuesday before the holiday when Colin Creevey stood on the Gryffindor table during breakfast and publicly asked Anna Farrow to accompany him on a date. She accepted and the Hogwarts dining hall burst into cheers.

Draco had the sinking premonition that Creevey had just started a fad, and sure enough, the public displays of Valentine's proposals only continued throughout the week. Michael Corner asked out Cho Chang over dinner by enchanting the tableware to dance about the table and finally settle into a formation that spelt out 'Date me Cho?' in awkward, block letters. Millicent Bulstrode asked out Eugene Burlington, a Hufflepuff Chaser, during Astrology by riding up to the tower at night on broomstick. She bullied Draco into letting her into the broom shed, going so far as to say that if he wanted her as a Beater next year, he'd better do this for her. He did so, grumbling and complaining the whole time. She ignored him. Anthony Goldstein put everyone to shame by staging an elaborate scavenger hunt for Susan Bones to deduce who her secret admirer was. The hunt took her about the entire castle even though Draco could tell she'd figured it out immediately. No one else would have the patience to stage such an elaborate plot. She accepted his date at dinner that evening.

It was, altogether, a tiresome week that culminated in Ginny Weasley getting serenaded by Terry Boots and the Hogwarts show choir in the middle of the second floor hall on Friday morning. Draco had seen the signs of the incoming ambush, and had tried to slip away, but the busy intersection meant escape was impossible. He got trapped among the masses as Ginny was pulled into the clearing and the music began. The singing wasn't bad, the show choir was very good, and Boots had an old-fashioned croon to his voice that made the performance bearable, if overly sentimental. Draco caught a fleeting look of panic and discomfort on Ginny's face that made him think she wanted to say no. He was reluctantly intrigued, wondering if she'd dare to reject Boots in an entire hall of his classmates, and was disappointed when she didn't. She accepted his invitation with a bright smile and the hall exploded in applause. She turned away, and only Draco caught the way her smile fell. That evening at dinner, Terry sat by himself, looking incredibly disappointed, and Ginny sat on the other end of the table, very decidedly not looking his way. She had obviously turned him down in private, which Draco supposed was the polite thing to do. But that just went to show the issue with public displays of proposals. There wasn't any good way to say no.

Draco was a little concerned that Pansy might want a similar display, or at the very least, some official statement that they were a couple, but she let him off the hook. She'd passed by him Monday night and said, "Get me something nice."

Draco had let out a breath of relief and asked for a color scheme.

"Something to go with the shoes you bought me for Christmas." She had paused a moment and then clarified, "Something very nice."

With that instruction, Draco sent for a jeweler's catalogue and turned to the back pages, where the more expensive items were displayed. Pansy's clarification of 'nice' meant he'd have to spend at least double what he'd originally been planning, and that meant he'd be using the family account for the gift. It wasn't that he couldn't afford it on his own, but he wanted to keep his private funds as healthy as possible, just in case he didn't manage to keep his inheritance. Normally he would have owled Lucius for permission before charging the expense, but Lucius had informed him not to write unless it was an emergency. And Lucius had avoided sending him anything but reprimands, so Draco felt a little vindicative as he chose a gold necklace with a ruby pendant as big as a knut. He almost hoped he would get a reprimand, or a lecture in form of a letter, any sort of response. But nothing came.

Draco got up Saturday morning to discover that the girls had turned the Slytherin Common room into a day spa so they could spend the morning pampering themselves before their dates. There was a production line for manicures and pedicures, a few stations set up for hair curling and braiding, and even a snack bar that included a punch bowl of champagne. Some of the boys had joined in, at varying stages of willingness, but anyone not involved in the production, either as a customer or a stylist, was quickly shooed out of the room, Draco among them.

He headed down to Hagrid's, intent on getting some training in with Orion. The thestral had acclimated to a bridle with a bit, but the saddle was still causing some consternation. Draco knew it was the hardest piece of equipment for thestrals to get used to, as it cinched close to their wings. He and Hagrid had put in an order for a training saddle, one that was a lighter weight and had thinner straps, in hopes to ease Orion into it, but it wouldn't arrive for a few more weeks yet. Hagrid and Orion were waiting for him, the bridle already on. Orion nickered when he saw Draco approach, and Draco couldn't help but feel pleased at being recognized.

"I walked him through the course a few times already," Hagrid said.

The pen had been expanded and filled with the typical obstacles for a show – the barrels at either end of the pen to show turning at speed, the turning posts set in the center for more complicated turns and canter patterns, and at the far edge, a couple of low hurdles to jump over.

"How's he taking it?" Draco asked.

"'e's mostly jus' confused."

Draco snorted and then led Orion over to the mounting block, a necessity since Orion was saddleless. Orion took his weight, used to him riding by now, and Draco guided him into a walk about the pen, letting him examine the new objects before urging him into a trot around the perimeter fence. Orion took his directions well, but balked when Draco tried pulling him into his first turn around the post. The thestral skidded to a stop, nearly unseating him, and Hagrid stepped forward in concern.

"Alrigh' there?"

"Fine," Draco said, letting Orion have slack on the reins to toss his head in agitation.

"Mebbe we should give 'im a break today."

Draco rolled his eyes. "He's fine. And I promise that if I fall off and break my arm, I won't try to have him executed."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wondered if the joke was too insensitive. He glanced Hagrid's way to see a strange expression cross his face, like he wasn't sure if he should be offended or worried.

"Yeh better not," the groundskeeper muttered.

Draco lightly kicked his heels and guided the thestral back around the perimeter. He let Orion trot around twice, and then led him back the barrels. This time Orion turned around it. It was an incredibly wide maneuver, but he took the second on a narrower edge. Feeling hopeful, and a little bit curious, Draco guided him towards the first hurdle.

Orion balked. As soon as he read Orion's anxiety, Draco tried to steer him around it, but the thestral jerked to a stop instead. This time Draco did lose his seat, but he was prepared for it, so he grabbed Orion's neck and slid his way to the ground. Rather than remounting, he grabbed the reins and tried to coax the thestral over the hurdle. It took several minutes of encouragement to get him to step two legs over it, and then Orion froze and whinnied in panic, not knowing what to do next.

"Is he stuck?"

Draco glanced over to see that Bill had joined Hagrid at the fence.

"He's just nervous." Draco diverted to the bucket of meat scraps Hagrid had set on the fence.

As soon as he grabbed the pail, Orion seemed to get over his fear and completely stepped over the hurdle. He pranced over, eager for a treat.

Bill laughed. "I think he's a Slytherin."

Hagrid let out a loud guffaw, and Draco huffed out a laugh as well. He used the treats to tempt Orion over the hurdle, not stopping until Orion could step over without hesitation. He then led the thestral to the trough for a water break and joined the professors at the fence. He noted Bill's pale face but wasn't sure if he should mention it.

Hagrid did though, poking Bill in the ribs. "How yeh feelin'?"

Bill gave a grin that was more pained than cheerful. Hagrid pulled out a large, silver flask and wordlessly handed it over. Bill took it, pausing before taking a swig and shooting Draco a warning look. "Mention this and I will fail you."

"Nervous?" Draco asked, drawing the word out with a wicked smirk.

Bill's eyes narrowed. "This is exactly why I didn't tell my family when I was going to propose." He took a hefty swallow from the flask.

"You should probably take that with you," Draco said. "Where are you meeting her?"

"There is no way I'm telling you that."

"Don't trust me?"

"Exactly."

"I'm hurt, mortally so."

"Don't you have a horse to ride and get thrown off of?"

"Careful what you wish for. I'd be of no help to you with a head injury." Draco gave him a meaningful look and then jumped down from the fence as Bill took a playful swat at him.

This time, when he took Orion for a jog, the thestral stepped over the first hurdle. Draco repeated the passage several times, helping him get a feel for it, and then let him gallop for a victory lap around the fences. He decided it was enough progress for one day and dismounted, handing the reins over to Hagrid.

"I'll be back next week."

He headed back to the castle and Bill joined him.

"How long have you been riding?" he asked.

"Since I was young."

"Done any shows?"

"Got five medals," Draco said, unbuckling his riding gloves and pulling them off.

"That's impressive. How long have you been able to see them?"

Bill joined him as he headed back to the castle.

"How long have you been riding?" he asked.

"Since I was little," said Draco.

"Done any shows?" asked Bill.

"Got five medals," said Draco pulling off his gloves, one finger at a time.

"Impressive," said Bill. "How long have you been able to see them?"

Draco liked the way Bill phrased the question. He wasn't asking how he could see them, which would bring up bad memories, or even how old he had been when he'd developed the ability. Instead he was asking how long, which was just a number.

"Ten years this summer," he said.

"Shouldn't he have a saddle on?" asked Bill.

"He's a little skittish still," said Draco. "We've got a training saddle that should be coming in soon though. Do you ride?"

Bill shook his head. "I'm afraid of heights."

"I thought you played Quidditch."

"Broomsticks are different," Bill said. "I'm in control on a broom. But an animal, I couldn't do that."

Draco supposed he understood the difference. They reached the castle and went their separate ways, Draco descending to the Slytherin dorms to shower and change. He took care with his appearance, carefully brushing his hair and applying a serum to bring out the shine. It was getting long, falling past his chin now. He left it loose and pulled on a pair of black trousers that had a very faint houndstooth pattern woven into the fabric. He chose a dark silver shirt in a shade that brought out his eyes and pulled a black jacket over it. The jacket was slim cut, longer than usual, in the façade of a robe but more modern than the typical dress robes. He pinned his family's crest brooch on the shoulder and then slipped on a few rings. A pair of dragon leather boots completed the look.

He finished with a few minutes to spare, so he took a seat in the common room and let Giovanna give him a quick manicure to undo the damage that working with thestrals inevitable did to his fingernails. Most of the girls trickled out of the dorm while he waited, greeting their beaus by striking a pose or giving a kiss. Pansy was the last to enter the common room, timed for dramatic effect. She turned more than a few heads upon arrival. Her hair, usually worn sleek and straight, had been curled into deep dramatic waves. Her eyes were painted with gold, and her lips were a rich, dark red. Her dress was black, which Draco knew was to match his own outfit. The sleeves draped off her shoulders, and the waist nipped in tight, showing off her hourglass figure. The skirt was a full net of tulle that fell just above her knees. She was wearing the shoes he'd bought her for Christmas, with the snakes trailing up the heels.

She spun, the skirt flaring up and showing off her legs. "Well?"

She was stunning. She knew that, of course. She knew all the tips and tricks to draw attention to the features she wanted to enhance – her full lips, her almond-shaped eyes, her thick, dark hair. Hers wasn't a quiet sort of beauty. It was striking and eye-catching and impossible to ignore. She was deliberate about her appearance and purposeful in her display of sensuality. She was self-possessed and powerful and, at times, intimidating. Draco took in every detail of her, trying to decide what he liked best, the way the gold sheen over her eyes caught the light? The generous shape of her lips? Maybe the bronze cut of her shoulders, or the way the dress hugged her upper body, only to flounce about her legs.

"Magnifique," Draco said.

She grinned and leaned in for a kiss. "Not bad yourself, handsome. Shall we?"

He helped her with her coat, and they headed down to the carriages. They garnered a great deal of attention from the other students. Their clothes were finer, more expensive than the rest. More formal as well, more mature. Their classmates wore the faster fashions of youth, colorful and exuberant and experimental. He and Pansy had never had such freedom.

Draco didn't mind the attention, not when it was expected. But he also didn't mind when Pansy shut the carriage door and threw up a few privacy charms. She swung a leg over his knees, settling into his lap and pulling him in for a deep kiss. She tasted of honey and champagne – a trick of her lipstick. He kissed back, hands wrapping about her waist as the carriages started with a jerk and began the short ride to Hogsmeade.

She raked her hands through his hair, destroying the work he'd done to brush it into place, but he hardly minded. Her nails scraped pleasingly against his scalp, sending small currents of pleasure down his spine. He didn't dare do the same to her, knowing she'd put too much effort into her hair to want to muss it so early in the day. Instead he slipped her coat off her arms so he could run his fingers down her bare arms, marveling in the softness of her skin.

She murmured against his lips. "What did you get me?"

It was a challenge to reach into his coat pocket, still maintaining the kiss. She didn't pull back until he pressed the box into her hands. She finally pulled back, reaching out to wipe a little bit of lipstick from the side of his mouth. Not even magic could make a completely transfer-free lipstick.

"You shouldn't have," she said coyly.

She hastily ripped off the paper and opened the box. She froze for a moment, meaning he'd surprised her, otherwise she would have given a theatrical gasp and immediately started fawning over it.

"Draco!" she breathed.

The necklace was made of braided gold strands, and dangling from the length was a carefully cut ruby pendant, the stone startling clear and vibrant. It was just the sort of Pansy liked – a statement. An expensive statement.

"You did say something nice," Draco reminded her.

Her lips slid into a smile. "You always were an over-achiever when it matters." She gave him a kiss, a quick peck on the lips that somehow had more meaning than their recent makeout session, and then turned around and pulled her hair back so he could fasten it about her neck. He was pleased that it matched her earrings, a pair of ornate gold hoops.

She turned back. "How does it look?"

"Perfect."

She grinned and traced the necklace with her finger. It drew his attention to the ring she was wearing, a gold ring studded with small diamonds all the way around it. He hadn't seen that ring before. And her earrings… those were new too, weren't they? Draco's brain immediately put the pieces together. Several new items of jewelry, received sometime in the past few months. The list of beaus she'd dated, all of them from wealthy families. The way she'd primed him to give her a similar gift.

"Are you collecting?" Draco asked.

Pansy's family wasn't wealthy. She wouldn't have an inheritance. This was how political spies made their wealth – through gifts and favors. But she was starting so soon. Why?

Her eyes went cold. "I don't know what you're talking about."

But Draco had already put the pieces together. "Pansy," he said, and then he stopped because he didn't know what else to say. He didn't know what was happening. The only reason she'd start collecting now was if she needed an option for escape, but Pansy was going into politics. She wasn't getting Marked. She shouldn't need a contingency plan.

Not unless there was a change in her status. Not unless Voldemort was demanding more visible support. His father had always tried to counsel the Dark Lord into caution. Identifying features, such as a tattoo, was hard to defend against in court should the Ministry decide to crack down on the Death Eaters. Lucius thought the majority of followers shouldn't be marked, but the Dark Lord preferred a show of force. He liked having real and obvious power, liked having an army bearing his mark, wanted to imprint himself on every follower. And Draco knew, from the things Lucius wasn't saying, that Voldemort was getting impatient.

"Are you getting the Mark?" he asked.

She shrugged a careless shoulder. "There's been talk of it. My parents wonder if they shouldn't be more direct in their support."

She said it casually, but that piece of information confirmed his hypothesis. Pansy was building up an emergency stash for herself – expensive items that could be sold for quick cash if needed. She was trying to keep her options open. She couldn't admit it to him though, because that could be considered treasonous. But he was the son of Lucius Malfoy. Being cautious, and having an escape clause, wasn't too outrageous for him. It was all but expected of him. He could say such things and she wouldn't guess at the treasonous thoughts in his own head.

"Politics are easier without a Mark," he said.

She shrugged again and moved in for a kiss. "You know I'll manage."

"Your parents are making the wrong play if you get the Dark Mark."

She nibbled down his neck, her lips teasing and making his skin tingle. "It's just a thought. Nothing's set in stone."

"Free agents are a necessary part of espionage."

"No argument here." She reached for his belt.

He grabbed her hand. "You said you'd never use sex against me."

It was one of the things they'd agreed on – when they first dated each other. He'd been wary of Pansy's sexuality, knowing that she'd be using it against political marks in the future, and she'd been resentful of his power, knowing he'd use it to control and blackmail and manipulate other people into doing his bidding. The rules they decided on were simple. She'd never seduce him in an attempt to glean information, and he'd never use his power to coerce her into a relationship.

She sat back and grinned. "I promised I'd never use sex to try to pull information from you. I'm just trying to distract from a boring conversation."

She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to admit what she was doing. Draco would have to admit to his own reservations first.

He pulled in a breath. "Why do you think I'm in the Neutral Party?"

"Because you don't want to do any work."

Draco felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "That's a benefit, yes. But not the real reason."

She shifted her weight in his lap and reached up to hook her hands around his neck. It was the appearance of intimacy, but Draco knew the true purpose for the contact. It was harder to get away with a lie when she was staring him in the face to watch his eyes dilatate, and when her hands were on his neck, feeling his pulse. He slipped his own hands down her arms to hold her wrists. It was only fair, after all.

"It is odd, for a Malfoy to be in the Neutral Party," she said. "I thought you were just trying to get out of work, or to annoy your father. But you've other reasons?"

"What do you think about the debates?"

She raised an eyebrow. "My allegiance is with the Purebloods."

"I'm not asking about allegiance. I'm asking for your opinion on the method of discourse laid out for us."

She shook her head. "You can say you want to talk about the methods, but I know that at the end of the day, it's always about allegiance."

"It is possible to be loyal to a cause and have disagreement in the ranks."

"You're a Malfoy. You're powerful enough to be indulged in certain talk that would put others in a most untenable situation. You can speak more freely than I can."

It was true. He shifted to get her into a more comfortable position because his legs were starting to go numb. "It is been brought to my attention that the debate format we are offered is more binary than the real world. For or against. There is no middle ground, no gray area, no room for neutral parties to operate. Because there is no option for neutrality, there is no option for disagreement within either party."

"You have disagreements with the Superiority party?"

"Nott and Warrington and the rest don't understand what true Superiority is. It isn't just following a leader for the excuse to torture Muggles. Superiority is tradition; it's family. It is excellence of mind and magic. It's discipline of self and others; it's civility and culture and sophistication."

"It pains you, doesn't it," Pansy mused. "To be lumped in with the raging masses. The horde of commoners that puts on airs of aristocracy."

"Quite."

"But such discomfort can't be your only reason. You've put up with uncomfortable things before – like that stupid prank you pulled on Potter pretending to be a dementor."

Draco heaved a sigh. It was hardly his finest moment, but it had been expected.

"And last year," said Pansy. "Teaming up with Umbridge. That was uncomfortable, more so than sitting through a Superiority group."

"Those were momentary discomforts," Draco said. "Warrington and Nott and the rest are products of their families and the newest fad of ideals being espoused by Pureblood society. Without room for disagreement and discourse, those ideals can be corrupted and manipulated into something that is no longer representative of our culture."

Pansy stiffened and drew back. "Corrupted?"

"Dark wizards have a long history of going mad in their later years," Draco said. "This is a historical fact. I am not making a statement about any current leaders."

"You are very close to something that others might consider blasphemy."

"The fact that reciting history can be considered blasphemy is an issue," Draco pointed out. "I know you see that."

She glanced away. He could see the corners of her mouth pinch, just slightly. She was scared.

"A Neutral party, an empowered Neutral party, one that has rights, one that has a place in the debate, one that isn't silenced, can ensure that the ideals our families are not lost or twisted into something they weren't meant to be. A Neutral party can also drag those who aren't convinced by the war-mongering of the Equality party into a more reasonable position. You're going into politics. You know it's easier to move in the neutral areas than it is in the extremes."

She looked back at him. "What's in it for you?"

Freedom, Draco could have said. But that wasn't self-serving enough to convince Pansy. She'd never known him to crave freedom, because he himself hadn't known he craved it. He could have said safety, but she had never known him to be in any sort of danger. He was a Malfoy. What did a Malfoy have to fear?

"Warrington and Nott are getting out of hand," he said instead. "Neutral students make up the largest majority of the school, but right now, they're either forced to choose a side they don't agree with or to keep silent. But if neutral students can rally together, well…," he trailed off with a shrug.

"You mean if you can rally them," Pansy said. "You want power."

Draco paused for a moment, then said, "Yes." It wasn't a lie. He did want power – just not the kind Pansy thought he wanted. He didn't want hordes of students following him or his example. He didn't want to speak for the masses. He wanted the power to be left alone.

"How would you do it?" Pansy asked.

"I'd gather the neutral students together. Not just the students in the Neutral party, but every student that has neutral leanings, no matter the party they signed up for and no matter their age. I'd make their case for them, that they don't have to choose a side, that there is nothing wrong with being neutral, that maybe the other sides should listen to us."

"They're going to need to get some benefit out of it."

Draco nodded. "If everything works out, I can promise them they won't have to sit through a debate, and they won't have to write a paper at the end of it."

"You can't guarantee that."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "If we have enough students in the Neutral party, the professors won't be able to make us do anything." She gave him an assessing look. He smirked. "Don't think I can do it?"

"I'd like to see you try. What do you need from me?"

"Names and an invitation," Draco said. "You know the neutral students better than I do, and they're not going to come to a meeting if they know I'm running it. But they'll come for you."

Pansy considered that for a moment. "I don't want to speak though. Speaking up for a cause, even if it is neutrality, interferes with my business."

Draco nodded. "You gather the troops, I'll do the initial talking, and then we can appoint someone to take over from there."

"Someone like who?"

"Goldstein."

She tipped her head to the side. Anthony Goldstein was closer to Equality than he was Neutrality, but that ridiculous love of mysteries meant he had a strong lawful streak running through him. He'd understand the reason for a Neutral party in power, and he'd fight for those students' rights.

She nodded. "That could work." She ran a finger down the side of his face. "I was wondering when you'd do something productive."

He scowled. "I've been very productive, I'll have you know."

"Doing what, exactly?"

Decoding a never before translated set of Runes. Training a thestral. Keeping an eye on Warrington and Nott, and hiding his genius from the faculty. Trying to think his way out of the Dark Mark and think his way into some new philosophy that was logically sound and not twisted by centuries old prejudices. And now he was trying to empower a large portion of the student body while masking his reasons for doing so.

He couldn't say any of that though, so he pulled her in for a kiss and she laughed into it. "Who's distracting now?"

But she didn't force a conversation, seemingly content in snogging for the last few minutes of the carriage ride. They took a few minutes to straighten their clothes before exiting.

"Where to?" Pansy asked.

"I was thinking the Solstice."

Her eyes widened. "You got reservations?"

"I did."

Solstice was an upscale restaurant tucked into the financial district of Hogsmeade, not frequented by students due to price and atmosphere. In fact, if Draco hadn't been a Malfoy, he doubted they would have accepted his reservation.

"Keep spoiling me like this, and I may start to think you actually like me, and aren't just using me for my connections."

"Can't it be both?" Draco asked.

He escorted her to the restaurant where they enjoyed a late lunch and then lingered over dessert and coffee, reminiscing about times when they were younger and all the grand plans they had. It didn't escape Draco's notice that their plans had changed in recent years, becoming smaller, grimmer, focused on survival and not hedonistic ideas of spending a year on the beaches in Greece or sailing around the world on a magical cruise ship.

There was still some time before the carriages took them back, so they took a stroll through the streets of Hogsmeade, which were decorated for the holiday. The main square was hung with red hearts and streamers and lit with lanterns with pink glass. A few other couples walked around the square, or sat on the wrought iron benches, their hands wrapped around warm cups of butterbeer. Pansy and Draco circled the fountain, Pansy stepping up onto the lip of the fountain to walk around it. Draco held her hand for support, since her stilettos weren't meant for walking icy walls.

"I've never particularly enjoyed Valentine's Day," she mused.

"Gives you an excuse to dress up," Draco said, tightening his grip as she slipped a little.

She caught herself with a little laugh. "True. But I feel it's just a way for couples to cram all of their affection into one day so that they can take the rest of the year off. It seems rather performative."

"I suppose they weren't really affectionate then to begin with. A truly loving person would use this time to… propose to their girlfriend," he said, thinking of Bill.

"I suppose the truly loving couples would. How many of those do you suppose there are in the world?"

"About to be one more."

She turned and raised her eyebrow in question. He shrugged. She turned back to her slow walk about the fountain. "How long do we need to stay dating for? I have other prospects lined up for the spring."

They weren't really dating. Draco knew that. He'd always known that. And he knew, if he so desired, he could seriously date several of the girls at school as soon as he asked them. He didn't particularly want a relationship, but even so, Pansy's brusque, business-like tone hit an old bruise inside of him, one that had formed as he'd watched his parents. Lucius would sometimes make grand gestures to Narcissa – take her to her favorite restaurants and then to an opera, or take her for a weekend shopping trip in Paris or Milan. During those moments, Narcissa would seem happy. She sometimes even acted like she was in love. But then, inevitably, it would all end with another affair and Lucius would get tight-faced and brusque and bury himself in work.

Pansy wasn't like Narcissa. She never cheated, on anyone. She was always clear about who she was in a relationship with and for how long. If anything, she was more like Lucius. She'd pay attention to him for a while, but then extricate herself from their relationship and run off for more of her own business ventures.

Rule number 15: Love is weakness; weaknesses can be exploited.

"Do you suppose you could stand my presence for another week or so, until we have our first meeting?" Draco asked archly.

She grabbed his shoulders so she could jump back to the ground and then didn't let go of him. She laughed. "No need to sound so hurt. I'll stay as long as you need me."

"As long as I make it worth your time," Draco countered.

She pursed her lips. "Did you expect anything else?"

"No."

"Well, I don't see why you have to sound so sore about it then. You know that –," Her eyes went over her shoulder and widened. She shouted, loud enough that he flinched back. "Fleur!"

She took off, running easily in her heels, and Draco turned to see Bill and Fleur wandering into the square. They were arm-in-arm, both with adoring smiles on their faces, which meant the proposal had gone well. Fleur turned at Pansy's call, and then let out a shout of her own. They met in a hug, both of them talking a mile a minute – Fleur reverting to French in her haste, which Pansy easily followed. Fleur held out her left hand and Pansy squealed excitedly – sounding very much like a seventeen-year-old girl, and not the political femme fatale she was practicing to become.

Draco walked over to Bill who was staring at his fiancée with an amazed expression on his face.

"I take it she said yes then?"

"She said yes," Bill confirmed, relief and euphoria in his voice. "I'm writing home to tell mother tonight so that by tomorrow everyone of importance will know."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks," said Bill, and then he nodded at Pansy. "I didn't know you were dating anyone."

"We're… not exactly. It's more of a business arrangement." He saw Bill frown so he changed the subject. "Have a date for the wedding yet?"

He didn't really feel like explaining to Bill that he was using Pansy to form a group to overthrow the current student leaders, and that she was using him for expensive gifts in case she needed to run. He didn't want to explain that yes, they were each using each other, and yes, sometimes it hurt, but no, he couldn't date someone. Not for real. Not with the chance that they'd turn out to be like his mother or his father. Or that he'd turn out like his mother or father. But Bill had never been one to follow the shift in topic, not even when it was for his own good.

"Relationships shouldn't be about business," Bill said.

Draco shrugged. "Maybe not. But it works for us."

Bill's face said he wasn't convinced, and then his eyebrows rose. "You're scared."

Draco scoffed.

Bill shrugged. "You've mentioned things not being good in your parents' relationship. It's natural to be scared when you have a bad example. Or, hell, even a good example."

Draco narrowed his eyes at Bill. "Are you going to tell me that your parents made you scared of relationships?"

"Absolutely," said Bill. "You've seen my parents here and there, haven't you? My mother is commanding and my father is passive. I thought for a while that all relationships were like that, with one person leading and the other following, and I didn't want that."

"You want a partner," Draco said.

"Exactly. And I was also scared of relationships because I thought it meant being poor. I know my parents tried their best to provide for us, and that a lot of their savings were lost during the war, but I thought that raising a family meant being poor. I didn't consider a serious relationship for a long time, not even after I started my first job and opened a savings account."

There was a slight comfort in Bill's story, an idea that everyone might be a little worried about turning out like their parents, even if their parents could be classified as 'good parents'.

"So what changed then?" he asked. "How did you get over your fear?"

Bill paused for a moment, like he wasn't sure, and then he laughed. "Honestly, I met Fleur and my desire to date her was stronger than my fear."

Draco gave him a dirty look. "The power of love?"

Bill grinned. "You said it, not me."

Draco rolled his eyes, but didn't get a chance to respond because Fleur and Pansy joined them.

"Bill, this is Pansy," Fleur said, her accent still noticeable but less strong than it had been during the Triwizard Tournament. "We roomed together two years ago."

"I've seen you around," Bill said. "But you're not in my class."

"Merlin, no," said Pansy with a winning smile. "I've no head for runes. Draco, Fleur, you two remember each other, right?"

They'd met on occasion, but hadn't really spoken. Draco bowed over her hand and Fleur smiled.

"You are in Bill's class. He says you are his favorite student."

There was a brief moment when Draco didn't fully comprehend what she'd said. And then realization hit, and he felt his cheeks go pink. He glanced over at Bill, looked a little embarrassed himself.

"He's a good teacher," Draco said, not trusting himself to comment further. He tried to shove down the pleasure the comment had given him. "I understand congratulations are in order."

Fleur thanked him and extended her hand so he could admire the ring. It was a good choice. It wasn't traditional, like Bill had said, but it was sophisticated and eye-catching, like Fleur herself. They spoke a few moments more, and then Pansy and Draco said their goodbyes, not wanting to intrude too much on their date. They headed back to the road where the carriages were lining up to take them back to Hogwarts.

Once inside, Pansy gave him a curious look. "Favorite student?"

Draco felt that damnable blush start again, and he couldn't even use the cold as an excuse. He tried to shrug it away. "He's tutoring me, so we spend the most time together."

"He's a Weasley, and you're a Malfoy."

Draco sifted through a few justifications in his head, trying to explain without revealing too much. He finally settled on, "He's the only professor that calls me Draco."

Pansy's expression softened. "Well, if Fleur wants to marry him, there must be something good about him."

She settled beside him, linking their arms and leaning her head against his shoulder for the ride back to Hogwarts. After seeing Bill and Fleur together, the gesture of intimacy felt oddly empty.

OoOoO

Bill planned on proposing to Fleur at the restaurant. He'd gotten them reservations at the Chocolate Hare, a small, family-owned restaurant with good food, tall booths that offered privacy, and a relaxed atmosphere. Bill had considered fancier restaurants, but the thought of proposing in a formal environment… well, he was nervous enough as it was. He didn't need to add any pressure.

He met her at the train station, spotting her immediately as she disembarked. She turned heads wherever she went, due to her Veela heritage and the faint glow she emitted, but she was looking particularly radiant today. She wore a pale blue coat that made her eyes shine, and her cheeks were flushed pink, either from the cold or excitement. She ran to meet him, and his arms wrapped around her and he buried his nose in her hair. She smelled of springtime, of freshly budding rose and lavender and a faint hint of petrichor.

They had time before their reservation, so they walked through Hogsmeade, hand-in-hand, talking about everything they hadn't been able to share in letters and Floo-calls. Bill thought the ring would feel heavy in his pocket, that it would feel like a rock weighing him down until he finally pulled it out to propose, but he felt no such dread. The box felt light, felt like hope, felt like a promise he wanted to give her.

She paused at a pet store to coo at the kittens in the window. They were cute, fluffy things, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She laughed as one of the kittens pushed its sibling off of the climbing tower, and then fell off itself. She turned to him to share in the laughter, her expression happy and bright, and the bridge of her nose crinkled the way it always did when she laughed.

That was the first thing Bill had noticed about Fleur. Well, the second thing, because he'd first noticed how beautiful she was. He'd met her business function. Her silvery-blonde hair had been falling loose about her face. The gray skirt-suit she wore had highlighted her willowy figure and, for a moment, Bill had stopped and stared. If he was honest, her beauty had intimidated him. He'd always been considered a generally attractive young man, but that didn't compare to her beauty. He might have never approached her, had she not laughed at something her companion was saying, and had he not caught sight of that crinkle on the bridge of her nose. No one who laughed that unabashedly could be intimidating, so Bill had strode up and introduced himself and… well… they'd hit it off.

And seeing that crinkle now, being with her now –

Bill dropped to one knee and pulled out the ring box. "Fleur." He had a speech memorized. He'd practiced in the mirror so many times the mirror had taken to heckling him, but his carefully rehearsed words were suddenly gone. He stared up at her and tried to grasp for them. "Fleur, you are... that is, you are so incredible –,"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, and then clapped a hand over her mouth at her interruption. "I'm sorry, I interrupted! Keep going, please!"

They started at each other for a moment, equal parts embarrassed and flustered, but utterly in love. Then they both burst into laughter. Fleur pulled him up for a kiss, which he returned eagerly, and then he showed her the ring. His heart stuttered for a moment, but she gasped when she saw it and proclaimed that it was perfect. He slid the ring on her finger, and a few people in the store applauded, witnesses to their exchange.

Bill all but floated on their way to the restaurant, and he was sure the food was delicious, but he couldn't seem to taste it, couldn't keep from holding her hand across the table. He finally remembered his speech and recited it to her over dessert, even though it made her cheeks go scarlet.

"Fleur, you are the most amazing woman I have ever met. I cannot think of one reason that would make me deserve you and the happiness you bring me. I can only ask that you be my wife, because if you say yes, I could never be in want for anything else in my life. And if you say yes, I promise that I will try my hardest every day so that you will never be in want yourself."

Fleur was in tears by the time he finished, which was part of the reason she wanted him to stop She was afraid her face was going to get puffy.

"Impossible," Bill said.

They took another walk around Hogsmeade after the meal, running into Draco and Pansy on the way. It'd surprised Bill – because he hadn't thought Draco was seeing anyone. And from Draco's explanation, he and Pansy weren't really dating. It reminded Bill that not everyone found happiness in their relationships, and it made him a little pensive as they walked to the inn where Fleur was staying for the night.

Fleur took him up to her room, hung up their coats, and then frowned. "What has you so serious?"

"I just… I wish everyone could be as happy as we are."

He pulled her in for a kiss, and her hands went up to twine about his neck. He drank her in – revealing in the taste of her lips and the scent of her hair. She reached back to unfasten her dress. It fell to the floor, leaving her in pale pink lingerie that matched the flush of her skin. Bill stared for a moment, somehow forgetting what to do. She smiled and reached for his shirt, and suddenly he remembered again and hastily pulled off his clothes. She laughed at his eagerness and once he was naked, pushed him onto the bed. She removed her own underthings slowly, teasingly, blushing at the words that spilled from his mouth. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Breath-taking. Divine. He finally reached out to touch, and her skin felt like silk beneath his fingertips, and when they pressed together, his own skin burned with a fire that threatened to consume him. She seemed to feel it too because she clung to him, her hands grasping and grabbing, clutching him impossibly closer. Her breath hitched and stuttered, and she cried out his name when she came. He couldn't manage words himself, just a groan into her hair.

He held her close afterwards, not wanting to let go. She was the first to move, brushing her sweat-damp hair away from her face and propping herself up on her elbows. She regarded him under partially hooded eyes. "You don't have to go back to the castle tonight, do you?"

"I may have bribed Minerva to cover for me."

She rewarded his foresight with a kiss.

They stayed in bed for the rest of the evening – ordering in a late dinner and an expensive bottle of wine. He took the time to write a letter to his mother while Fleur held him from behind and muttered nervous French musings into his neck. Would her mother like him? What would his father think? What about his brothers? He sent off the owl and spent the next hour trying to convince her didn't matter what his family thought through various methods of persuasion. They fell asleep curled together, and as he drifted off, Bill had the realization that nothing could spoil this perfect day.

And, technically, nothing did, because when his arm began to burn and it yanked him out of sleep, it was one o'clock the next morning. He bolted out of bed, waking up Fleur in the process. She knew he was spying, but she didn't know all the details, and her eyes were wide with fright as he ran from the room.

He rushed to the castle, Severus waiting for him impatiently in the woods. Bill cursed his naïveté for thinking that he could have a night to himself, for thinking that such a thing as a perfect day existed in a time of Death Eaters and Voldemort. He followed Severus to a place he'd never been before, and only the inner circle of Death Eaters had gathered inside. The house was small and cramped, and Bill spent the next several minutes in a panic, trying to dodge Death Eaters as they milled about. Voldemort finally called them into another room. Bill could Lucius Malfoy inside, holding up a book, proclaiming, "I've found it."

Bill couldn't make it into the room with them. It was too small, too cramped, and the door was shut too quickly. He tried to listen in, but none of the eavesdropping charms he cast made it through the privacy wards that must have been set up. He sat outside, wondering what it was that Lucius had found, wondering what sort of nefarious deeds Voldemort was planning.

He wondered if Fleur was still awake.

OoOoO

Author's notes: So, I changed a lot this chapter, mostly with Pansy. I definitely had a lot of weird ideas about sex when I was… oh, 19 years old, and writing this? I mostly thought that girls who had sex were bad or evil, and I'm going to be honest, a lot of that came from my very conservative upbringing (did I tell you guys that I was very nearly not allowed to read Harry Potter growing up? And that most of my friends weren't allowed to read it, because magic was of the devil?). So Pansy is her own character now, and yes, she uses sex as a weapon, but also for fun, and that does not diminish her character. We also get to see her becoming more integral into Draco's plot for the Neutral party – which is the second biggest change. I alluded to the fact that I want to use the debate to greater effect this time around, and we are starting to get there.

I added a bit more atmospheric stuff in there about kids getting dates, and then we got to see Bill and Fleur together. Also – a sexual encounter with them? Which, I didn't really intend to write, but it made sense for their characters. And, thinking about it now, it's important to show sexuality in a healthy relationship because I show it in unhealthy relationships. But I also wanted to torment poor Bill a bit more. When he and Draco do have their conflict, a lot of his anger comes from his compounding trauma and the whiplash he experiences going from Hogwarts to Death Eater meetings back to Hogwarts again. That back-and-forth really starts to take a toll, especially as now it's intruding on his happy, private moments.

Well, hope that you enjoyed it! Sorry this chapter got up a bit late. I am hoping to get back on an every-other-week schedule again. Let me know what you think!