A/N I don't generally make it a policy to delete reviews. Even if a review annoys me, or someone doesn't like the story, I leave the reviews up because I assume even a negative review can be helpful to a reader who wants to learn what type of story this is. Not every story can be for everyone.
However I recently had a review in which someone (a guest reviewer) made a homophobic comment about Ron and Blaise. I deleted it because… well because hate speech is something I don't tolerate, period. But, the review reminded me to address something, even here in chapter 51: There are gay men in the tags of this story. They are going to have a happily ever after. And if you don't like it, read something else, because it isn't going to change.
A/N Don't own anything, don't profit from anything either.
Chapter 51
"Well, isn't this a surprise!" Pansy Parkinson's eyes glittered like scuttling beatles under the fine netting of her chic black hat. She was swathed in a large, glossy black fur coat and attended by an overlarge, slick looking black-haired man.
Granger shot a familiar, furious look over to him. Granted, it was a stretch calling Pansy Parkinson a friend. Certainly they had remained cordial, but that was far from being bosom buddies. Or in Pansy's case, magically enhanced bosom buddies.
A wicked grin spread over the female Slytherin's face. "Don't tell me this is your date, Draco."
"My maritare match, in fact." He replied simply, letting that dismissal wash over the group. Pansy seemed to perk up, invigorated, as always, by a new person to torture. Pansy was an oddity among the few remaining purebloods who had escaped Azkaban. The worst she had ever done during the war was stay in contact with her parents while at school. And yet she was too nasty a piece of work to fall in with the new blood traitors, like Astoria Greengrass and Blaise Zabini. Last he'd heard, she was just back from a long trip in the Baltic region, where, according to her agoraphobic mother, "people had the right way of thinking."
Granger, on the other hand, seemed to stiffen and lock her muscles, as if Pansy was readying for a physical fight.
"Granger, you're a lucky woman." Pansy rose, her diminutive 4'9" frame barely rising to Granger's collarbone.
"I'm sure I am." Granger replied in a neutral tone.
"Well come now, that's hardly the attitude of a woman who's just met her soulmate," Pansy affected a hearty laugh.
Draco slid his arm around Granger's waist pinpricks of humiliation attacking his whole body as he did so.
"Yes, Granger," He leaned in closer to her ear, an errant curl brushing his collarbone and igniting a searing pain where it touched him. "Come now."
A shiver ran up her spine, and she leaned away from him instinctually. Draco fisted his hand against her waist and hid his frown in her hair.
Draco knew himself capable of a cool, calculated revenge. He knew his anger, and how cold his fury could get. But every time he touched her, every moment she looked at him, or played along with the act, fresh hell ignited in his chest. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't calm down. He was humming with electricity and all he wanted to do was turn off the lights.
He pulled away and Pansy gave him a sour look, the sort of look you might give a dog who had jumped onto a chair it was not allowed in.
"This is Andrei, Andrei Zhevakin." Pansy turned away, her furs making a heavy whisper around her as she sat next to her companion.
"In England, it is customary to stand when a lady enters the room." Draco said by way of greeting.
The Russian nodded slowly. "You are right to correct me, beautiful lady, please to forgive me." He stood stiffly and bowed to Hermione, and then to Draco, taking Draco's hand for a kiss. "Tell me, why has such a beautiful fair lady brought her pet hag to such an event?"
Draco shook his hand off with a sneer, as Pansy cackled.
"Oh don't be so sensitive, Drakey, it was a joke." She simpered, nestling her chin into her coat collar in a way he was sure she thought was very attractive.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Pardon me, I mistook you for a gentleman. On the other hand, it's fascinating to know that they can train night trolls to speak in the Baltics."
The man lunged forward, held back only by Pansy's tiny hand, on which glittered a large red ruby ring. She jerked his arm and he looked at her. After a terse moment, he sat in the seat next to her again.
She threw a conspiratorial look at Hermione. "Men. What can you do, you know?"
"My strategy was always to avoid those who lunged at strangers." Granger replied coolly.
"He was just playing angry, weren't you, Andrei love?" Pansy cooed.
"Of course. Won't you please to sit down with us." His congeniality left much to be desired.
Granger shot him a more desperate look as he nudged her by the waist towards the seats that sat opposite. Possibly, he was leading them into the mouth of the beast sitting here, but he couldn't properly think with his hand around Granger's waist. He could feel the heat of her burning through the thin taffeta fabric. The corset may have been a mistake, as her magnificent chest was being pushed center stage. She had worn a dark purple short cloak over it, and the bow of the tie seemed to perfectly frame her cleavage. Above that, his family's chain glittered ominously.
He looked away, a bolt of fury slicing through his chest.
As they sat, she laid a hand on his knee, momentarily cutting off all usable oxygen to his brain… until he felt her wand slide next to his leg, hidden by her skirts.
It was just a practical idea. This Russian man was clearly dangerous. But Draco seethed with embarrassment and anger at his lapse.
He wanted to slap her hand away. He was not a useful method for concealing a weapon. More broadly, he wasn't a useful method for creating one.
"So," He started in a too jovial voice, squeezing Hermione closer. "How did you two lovebirds meet."
Granger made a low growl in her throat and he grinned, as Pansy simpered into her red velvet seat.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as he slid open the door to the compartment.
"Just going to excuse myself for a moment." He said as calmly as possible. It felt as though they had been hearing Pansy prattle on for eternity, but a glance outside had shown they'd barely left London.
He glanced back at Granger, who had crossed her arms and was staring daggers at his "friend." She had abandoned all pretence and was now holding her wand aloft.
He stepped out into the corridor and crossed into the next car. Behind him, a compartment door opened, but he paid it no mind, hellbent on escaping to the peace and quiet of the Gent's room for a moment. Between Granger turning him hot and cold like a faucet in the Prefect's Bathroom, and Pansy's simpering brags, he was just about ready to take a leap out onto the tracks.
"I couldn't stand being alone with her either, Draco, how do you stand it?" A voice behind him called as he had almost reached the door.
He turned, keeping his face decidedly and defiantly neutral. "Pansy."
"Drakes..." she approached and ran her hands along his lapels. "What game are you playing with the mud blood."
He caught, out of the corner of his eye, the tiniest chocolate brown curl come into view in the door to the corridor. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. What was it with gryffindors and eavesdropping on trains?
"I'm not playing any game, Pansy." He replied, fighting the urge to violently slap her hands away.
The Draco of a few years ago might have had no compunction using Pansy to flaunt in front of Granger. But in this moment, he would use any means to remove her disgusting claws from his body.
"Come on Draco, you can't be serious about this marriage law business. It's matched you with Granger, it's more than half a joke." She pouted theatrically.
"Who did you get matched with, then?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Ugh." She screwed up her face. "A Weasley. It's obviously designed to match whoever the ministry finds suspicious with some sort of spy."
"Which Weasley?"
"Percival." She replied.
Draco didn't bother trying to hold back his bark of laughter.
She pushed at him weakly. "It's no funnier than your match, Draco. How much money did it take to make her look halfway decent tonight."
Draco frowned deeply.
She ran her hands up his collar to his neck. "You on the other hand look delectable."
Draco pried her hand off his face and let it go. "Thank you. We had better return to the compartment before your date gets hexed into oblivion, Pans. She won't hesitate." And he wouldn't hesitate to catch Granger snooping on him. Pansy would be sure to hammer that humiliation home, and he wouldn't have to lift a finger.
She ignored his hints, as usual, grinning saucily. "You always were such a tease."
"Were you trying to make me jealous? I know you wouldn't actually take her seriously." Pansy preened.
"I wasn't trying to make you jealous." He warned. Quite the opposite actually. Although Granger had seemed less jealous and more pissed off. Even though she was listening in, she was likely just verifying that he was going to follow through with this miserable prophecy.
"Well I know you couldn't actually be serious about Granger." She replied, running the long red nails of her right hand up his neck, causing him to shudder.
He said nothing in response.
"You and I on the other hand." Pansy raised an eyebrow.
"There is no you and I, Pansy. We haven't spoken in years." He said gently, pushing her hands away.
"And yet you sought me out today." She giggled. "You don't have to say it, if it makes you uncomfortable to know i figured you out."
He briefly considered whether it was worth Pansy possibly slapping him for using her to torture Granger.
She put her hand on his thigh and groped inarticulately towards his… he pulled her hand away, and she immediately rested both hands back on his chest.
"Pansy, stop, I don't want to do that." He replied, rapidly running out of gentlemanly ways to put her off.
"Well I didn't want you anyway, mudblood lover." She spat back, her face suddenly going stormy. "You waltz around as though you're still on top, but all you did was turn your back on everything you believed in."
"No, everything you believed in." He countered.
"Fine. Have fun with your blood traitors and mudbloods, you coward." Her nails curled into his chest from where they had been resting on his lapels.
Draco stiffened. Before he could react, the door behind pansy flew open.
"Skintillus!" Granger sprang through, wand aloft.
White sparks sprang from his collar, and Pansy shrieked, backing away from him. She wheeled around on Granger.
"Excuse you. How dare you eavesdrop on my conversations?" She cried, rubbing her fingers although no marks were evident on either his collar or her hands.
"You're audacious, I'll give you that." Granger snapped back, tossing her curls over her shoulder.
"It's so telling, Granger, that you'd wait til after he rejected me to make yourself known." Pansy sniffed delicately. "Too embarrassed of yourself to stake a claim? You should be, because you're-"
"I don't need to stake a claim. Draco can fuck whoever he wishes. Or…" Granger smirked. "Not, in your case. Draco cannot, however, be called a coward. Because I won't allow it."
"Jealousy isn't an attractive quality, Granger. And you don't need any more of those." Pansy replied hotly, her wand rising from her sleeve as she started towards the other witch.
"Neither is sexual harassment, Parkinson." Granger leaned in, mock conspiratorially. "And in case you were keeping score, that trips your scale from unpleasant into wholey repulsive."
Pansy turned an unhealthy shade of purple. For a moment Draco feared she might bellow out something entirely unforgivable, and he centered his mind on a shielding charm, letting it hover invisibly between them.
But she turned away, pushing past Hermione while muttering under her breath. When she exited the hall, Granger let out an audible breath.
"Please do not make me go back there with that troll. The moment she was gone he made a pass." Granger crossed her arms, defensively.
White hot fury almost blinded him. "I'll break his nose."
He started back towards the first car, and she stopped him. "He's not worth even that."
She held his arm for a moment, and then dropped it abruptly when their eyes met.
"I didn't mean to listen in, I just couldn't be in the same room as him for one more moment." She said by way of explanation.
Draco struggled over what to say next. She had defended him, but that didn't mean she deserved any thanks or forgiveness. Why wait until Pansy had insulted him? Was she waiting to see if he was involved with Pansy? He was still angry, the vile sick feeling of being humiliated crawled all over him whenever he looked at her, or touched her. In fact, he recoiled at her pitying defense of him. He didn't need her protection any more than he needed her presence in his life.
He pulled back, "I could have fucking handled it."
"I-I know, I just got angry, I didn't even think about it." She looked bewildered.
"I was handling it before you burst in and started throwing spells around." He bit out.
Her chin set, "So you want me to apologize for defending you?"
He stepped in closer, so that their faces almost touched. "I want you to apologize for a lot of things."
"Which I was trying to do," She whispered hotly, her cheeks and chest flushed with anger.
"You couldn't have sent a note? Tried a little harder?" He hissed.
"I wanted to tell you in person, so I could explain and you could understand-" Granger looked him square in the eye, igniting heat all over his body.
"I will never understand why you did this to me." He growled.
"Oh come on," She growled right back. "You haven't even tried."
"So it's my fault, again. Somehow, I keep getting blamed for your decision." Draco could hear someone coming towards their car from the next, and he prayed to god it wasn't Pansy.
"I never blamed you. When did I ever say anything like that? There is an explanation, if you would bother-" She shook her head.
A head appeared in the door to the car hallway, and it began to open. It was out of the corner of his eye: red hair, tall enough that they had to stoop to enter the car, flashy robes… it had to be a Weasley. They couldn't be seen fighting, not this early, anyway. Everything they did was going to turn up in the Prophet the next day and it had to be good enough for his mother to read.
He grasped the still speaking Granger firmly by her waist, hauled her up and kissed her, fire blooming from every place they touched. By comparison, Granger felt as cool as a glass of iced pumpkin juice in his grasp. Her lips were frozen, and her hands hung in midair around his shoulders. It might have been nice if she kissed him back. Even if, for just a moment, his fever cooled it would be a relief. It had everything to do with her, but felt so much like a cure he almost believed it.
A firm hand grasped his shoulder and he was pulled back. He had just a moment to look at her, her eyes wide, chest heaving, when he received a firm shove backwards.
"Get off of her Malfoy," George Weasley stepped between them like a galumphing ginger Gringotts, impossible to get through.