A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting. I love hearing your thoughts and theories
AlphaBet love to BiscuitsforPotter and DisenchantedGlow.
Pansy Parkinson was a beautiful witch. Fair, porcelain skin contrasted by sleek, black hair. She had grown into her pug-like nose over the past few years and now sported refined, delicate features. Her blue eyes were piercing and her sharp, red fingernails matched the lipstick on her full lips. She was dressed in perfectly tailored black robes and stylish heels which clicked against the hardwood floors as she entered the room.
But despite her obvious beauty, Draco could only notice one thing about the girl standing next to Shacklebolt: darkness.
Darkness in the energy she brought in with her, in her self-righteous posture, in her eyes as they settled on Draco.
Her eyes widened in obvious surprise at seeing him there. Possibly because the Death Eaters believed that he was dead, possibly because she just hadn't expected to see him sitting contently between Ginny Weasley and Cho Chang.
The instincts that had been sleeping since his brush with death suddenly flared to life. Everything within him screaming the same thing: Pansy Parkinson was dangerous.
Theo had said that she'd been angry when Draco left. That she'd thrown herself into every mission Dolohov would let her take.
Kingsley was speaking, but Draco was solely focused on Pansy. Her eyes dragged over each person in turn, assessing the group. When her eyes fell upon Granger, Draco's blood ran cold.
What's one less Mudblood in the world?
Those had been her words. Harsh, cold, and without a second thought to the life Draco should have taken.
Granger could still be a target. There was no reason to believe that the Death Eaters had called off the hit. Could Pansy have been sent here to murder Granger? Draco sat up a bit straighter, wondering how quickly he could draw his wand if Pansy made a move against her. He faltered as he remembered his condition. Even if he could draw his wand, would he even be able to fire a spell?
Granger did not seem concerned. She merely tilted her head to the side in curiosity. In fact, no one in the room seemed to be at all worried.
Draco recalled the outcry that had accompanied his introduction to the Order, and couldn't help but feel slightly insulted that Pansy was not experiencing similar prejudice.
Perhaps they were more open to the thought of Death Eater defectors now that he was a member. Or maybe they were just less inclined to shout abuse at a woman. Whatever their reason, everyone in the room sat peacefully as Shacklebolt introduced Pansy.
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the Minister dismissing the meeting until there was a sudden scraping of chairs and most of the Order members began to vacate the room. Granger, Potter, McGonagall, Dawlish, as well as Arthur, Bill, and Charlie Weasley all stayed put, and Draco cursed himself for not listening to Shacklebolt's instructions. Surely he hadn't been asked to stay; it was mostly the people that Draco had come to think of as the inner circle.
He rose to leave, following Ginny out into the living room.
"Draco." Pansy's voice was smooth as silk as she blocked his path to the arm chairs.
"Pansy," he greeted stiffly. "This is a s-surprise."
Her eyes darted back and forth between his, clearly disappointed by the welcome she was receiving. "I thought you were dead," she breathed, eyes growing teary.
"No. Only mostly dead, thank you," Draco droned.
Pansy's lip twitched and she opened her mouth to reply, but seemed to get distracted by someone's presence to Draco's left. "Oh, hello, Weasley. Good to see you," she sniffed at Ginny.
The youngest Weasley looked Pansy up and down, her freckled arms crossed over her chest. She made a little disapproving noise before smirking. "Nice shoes. Planning to wear them into battle?"
Pansy didn't seem fazed in the slightest, she merely quirked an eyebrow, her lips curling over her perfect teeth. "It's always important to make a good first impression, is it not?"
Ginny scoffed. "You know, that's true. I seem to recall you teasing me for being poor on my first day at Hogwarts. Or was it about my freckles? I'm not sure. All I remember is what a vapid bitch you were."
Pansy's smile fell slightly, but she straightened her spine, her heels granting her enough height to be eye level with Ginny. "I've grown up a lot since then."
Ginny shrugged. "We'll see." With all the confidence of a girl who had grown up with six brothers, Ginny brushed past Pansy and disappeared into the kitchen.
Pansy turned back to Draco. "Were they this welcoming when you arrived?" she quipped.
"No. They've rolled out the red c-carpet for you," Draco replied dryly. "What are you d-doing here, Pansy?"
Pansy glanced around at the dwindling crowd of Order members before looking back into his eyes. "I heard about what happened to you," she breathed. "I was abroad when it happened and just got back last week. When Theo told me… I—I couldn't stay. I'd felt so trapped for so long and that was what finally gave me the courage to leave it all behind."
"So you might be the next one to fall victim to Yaxley's p-potion?" Draco retorted.
"I'd rather fall victim to it than be responsible for it," she insisted.
"Admirable," Draco nodded, irrational anger bubbling up within him. "B-but that's easy to say when you haven't choked to d-death on it."
Pansy's eyes grew fearful and she looked him over, eyes lingering on his scuffed shoes, pullover jumper, and unshaven face. A new look settled on her face, an expression he'd grown too familiar with in the past few weeks. Pity.
The dining room doors opened and Draco turned to shuffle out of the way as the inner circle emerged.
"Pansy," Shacklebolt greeted. "Thank you for your patience. I'd like to introduce you to your probationary mentor, Charlie Weasley."
"Pleasure to meet you," Pansy smiled as Charlie stepped forward. The ginger man shook her hand politely.
"Pansy," Charlie smiled. "Let me know if you have any questions about the Order. We've been assigned to the Westenberg house for the week. We'll take a Portkey there tomorrow morning. Draco will be joining us, along with Hermione. I figured having an old friend nearby would make you more comfortable."
"How thoughtful," Pansy said, flashing the ginger man a charming grin. Draco frowned. No one had considered that her presence would make him extremely uncomfortable. Pansy stepped forward, her eyes falling on Granger again. "Hermione," she purred, making Draco shiver. "How lovely to see you again. I hope that our unfriendly past won't get in the way of our working together. I would very much like to start over with all of you."
Warning bells were ringing in Draco's mind. He could see through Pansy's false charms too easily. She was up to something, he was sure of it.
"Not at all," Granger offered with a half smile, her eyes darting quickly to Draco's before returning to Pansy. "We're all happy to have you here."
Pansy's arm darted out for a handshake and Draco flinched, hand twitching toward his wand before stopping himself. Granger grasped Pansy's hand firmly with a smile, her other hand tucking a curl demurely behind her ear. Pansy slowly turned her head in his direction, eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher the meaning of his involuntary spasm. Her lip twitched before turning back to Granger.
Draco cursed internally, reminding himself that if Pansy were here to assassinate Granger, she would be daft to do it now in front of the Minister of Magic himself and at least ten other highly trained Order members.
As they all made their way up the stairs, Draco took slow, careful steps, determined not to show Pansy how weak he had become. If she still feared him, perhaps she would think twice about harming anyone here.
"Potter," he hissed before the scarred wizard could disappear into his bedroom for the evening. Draco beckoned to him, holding the door open to his room so that Potter could step tentatively inside. Draco closed the door. "Is Granger's p-protection still in place?"
Potter's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Yes," he said slowly.
"There are st-still wards on her room each evening?" Draco confirmed.
Potter blinked. "Yes."
"Good."
"Do you have reason to believe that the threat against her has intensified?" Potter asked.
Draco dragged his fingers through his hair. "Not exactly, I just…" he trailed off, debating whether he should share his suspicions.
"Parkinson took all the same tests you did, Malfoy," Potter told him. "She was specifically asked about Hermione under Veritaserum. Apparently, she knows nothing about Hermione being targeted."
Draco frowned, wishing he could get his hands on the official transcript of the interrogation to look for loopholes that Pansy could have exploited.
"Listen," Potter sighed. "I'll strengthen the wards on her room and make sure her other guards and I are extra vigilant until Parkinson's probationary period has ended. Just to be safe, yeah?"
Draco nodded. "J-just to be safe."
Early the following morning, Draco met Granger, Potter, Charlie, and Pansy in the living room so that they could catch their Portkey to the Westenberg house together. Once they arrived, Draco shuffled up the stairs with Granger holding his arm in case the trip had made him unsteady, and he pretended not to be bothered by Pansy's eyes on their backs as she followed them.
When they reached Draco's room, he held the door open so that Granger could enter first before following her in and shutting the door. With a sigh, he set down his rucksack and shed his coat.
"I know you might not be thrilled to have left headquarters," began Granger. "But I think it'll be good for your recovery. There are fewer people here, so there's more privacy to practice your spell work and physical therapy. Plus the office here is much better equipped for my potions work. I'd gotten quite tired of brewing potions in my bedroom when Kingsley and Dawlish needed the office." A nervous sort of laugh escaped her as she set up the vital charts he'd had at St. Mungo's and Headquarters.
"It's f-fine, Granger," Draco insisted. Perhaps she had mistakenly attributed his foul mood surrounding Pansy to actually be about their safe house assignment for the week.
She frowned over her shoulder at him. "I know your stammer is back. I'll work on it. I have a theory about the enzymes used in firewhiskey that I'm hoping will yield some results for you." When she had completed the charts, she turned back to him and pocketed her wand. "I have your daily potions as well," she announced, reaching into her bag and procuring two small phials.
He dutifully took his medicine, swallowing each one without complaint. In the weeks since he had woken up in St. Mungo's he had grown quite used to gulping down Granger's nauseating potions, though he did look forward to the day when he might not need them anymore.
"Breakfast is ready," Charlie called from the corridor.
Draco opened the door and exited his room, Granger in tow. At the next door down, Potter was finishing warding Granger's room and across from him, Pansy stood in the doorway to her own room, regarding him with confusion and curiosity as Granger brushed past him with a smile.
Granger traipsed down the stairs toward the enticing scent of bacon and eggs. Draco watched her go before turning back to Pansy, who was still staring at him as if he were a different man than the one she'd known. And perhaps he was.
"You…" she began carefully. "...and Granger…"
Draco grimaced and pulled his bedroom door shut. "She's my healer, Pansy," he growled warningly.
"And that's all?" Pansy prompted, arching a brow quizzically.
Draco's heart thudded in his chest.
What's one less Mudblood in the world?
"That's all," he insisted, turning away from her and walking carefully down the stairs.
That evening, after everyone in the house had eaten dinner, Granger retired early. Charlie and Potter retreated into the office to discuss Order business, leaving Draco and Pansy sitting in the living room. He watched her carefully from his armchair. She had toed off her stilettos and pulled her legs up onto the couch as she sipped from a glass of wine. Draco couldn't help but think that she appeared far too comfortable after only one day in the Order.
"So what did Dolohov have you doing abroad?" Draco asked, leaning his elbow on the armrest of the chair in an effort to appear relaxed. He hoped Pansy wouldn't sense his suspicion. Playing nice was a far better tactic than revealing any shred of doubt he had about his old friend.
If he played his cards right, maybe he could even get some information out of her before she betrayed them all.
"Recruiting mostly." She paused to lift her wine glass to her lips. "Dolohov encouraged me to use my… charms to the advantage of the organization."
Draco's blood ran cold at the thought of Pansy luring men into the Death Eater organization in such a way. "He made you—"
"Oh, no!" Pansy insisted with a little laugh and a dismissive wave of her hand. "He didn't make me. He merely suggested. And I just found that men are much more easily… persuaded when lying on their backs."
Draco grimaced. How could she be so cavalier about being used in such a way?
"Don't make that face," Pansy chastised. "I didn't do anything I didn't want to do, I assure you. Plus, it was a nice distraction after you left. Dolohov was… well, let's just say it wasn't pleasant for a few weeks."
"I'm sorry that my leaving made things worse for you all," Draco muttered. "Theo mentioned how bad things were."
Pansy shrugged. "It wasn't so bad for me," she said, running one manicured finger over the rim of her wine glass.
"And why is that?" Draco asked, eyeing her wine enviously. He desperately wished that he could have a bit of alcohol, but he didn't fancy another morning of vomiting in front of Granger.
"Dolohov is a bit of a chauvinist," Pansy admitted, rolling her eyes. "The men—especially the men he thought might be loyal to you—got the worst of it. He used some really extreme means to interrogate them. Torture, Veritaserum, the works. I heard nothing but screams for days." She shuddered, hastily gulping down more wine. "I was under scrutiny, yes. But we women didn't get it as bad as the men... as bad as Theo did."
She didn't elaborate on this, and Draco frankly didn't care to ask.
"Plus," she added, schooling her expression. "I went abroad just a few weeks later. Dolohov couldn't put his wand to me while I was in Italy."
Italy…
When Weasley had been in the country a few months ago, he had said something about Italy. There had been killings there—assassinations of the most brutal kind.
"Theo told me that Dolohov trained my replacement," Draco blurted out.
Pansy frowned. "I heard the same thing."
"Any idea who it is?" He asked pointedly.
She shook her head, silky black hair brushing over her shoulders. "They've been very secretive about it. But they said he's very good. Ruthless, tactful. That he really enjoys it," she shivered visibly. "They've started referring to him as 'The Reaper'."
Draco scoffed. Any assassin who needed a nickname was obviously compensating for something. "The Reaper?" he repeated with a smirk. "Does he carry a scythe and wear a black cloak?"
"Be serious, Draco. You were trained by Dolohov. You know exactly how dangerous this person could be," Pansy chastised with a frown.
Draco grimaced at the thought of his training. She had a point. This person, whoever he or she was, was a carefully crafted weapon.
Pansy jerked her head towards the office door by the stairs. "Do they know what you are?"
"I was interrogated just like you were when I got here."
"I figured that Shacklebolt knew." Pansy rolled her eyes. "Does she know?"
Draco glanced toward the stairs. "Yes," he replied simply.
"You told her?" Pansy asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
"No. She guessed."
"She always was the brilliant one," Pansy murmured before returning to her wine. "So she knows, and yet she still holds your arm as you walk up the stairs and goes with you behind closed doors?"
"She's a healer," Draco said simply. "And a Gryffindor. They always did have more courage than sense."
Pansy sat back in her chair, eyes taking Draco in thoughtfully. "You're very comfortable with them… especially her."
Draco bristled, growing more and more uncomfortable with this line of questioning. "She was my probationary mentor. Now she's my healer. I've had to spend a lot of time with her."
"Had to? Or gotten to?" Pansy smirked, lifting an eyebrow pointedly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco snapped.
"You two are just very… cozy, is all."
"She saved my life, Pans. Am I supposed to keep hating her forever? She saved my life, and now she's my healer. That's all." Anger bubbling up inside him, he rose quickly and stalked out of the room, his shoes clunking against the wooden floor as he went.
"You must be happy to have Pansy here," Granger probed the following afternoon. She was perched on the edge of his bed while he performed his therapy exercises.
Draco glanced at her as he finished his series of heel raises. She was twirling a curl around her finger, and while she typically watched him diligently as he executed his ridiculous exercises, she was gazing off into space as if her mind was far away.
"What m-makes you think that?" Draco grumbled, lifting his left foot to balance on one leg.
"Well, you two were always so close at school, I guess I just assumed…" Her free hand ran absentmindedly over the green blanket she'd knitted for him. She'd smiled when she'd walked into his room and seen it spread on the bed and had sat down upon it with a pink flush in her cheeks.
"We're not close," Draco bit out.
Granger looked up at him, her lips parted slightly. "Oh…"
Draco switched feet, sensing that there was something she was holding back. "What?"
"Nothing," Granger chirped a bit too loudly. She dropped her curl and put her hands in her lap, sitting up a bit straighter and refocusing her attention on him. "Keep your hips level," she instructed.
Draco dropped one hip, touching his toe down briefly when he lost his balance for a moment. "Just b-be careful around Pansy, yeah?" he advised vaguely. "She's a snake."
Granger's mouth twitched. "So are you."
A short laugh escaped his mouth as he returned his foot to the floor. "Exactly. So you know how d-dangerous she could be."
Brown eyes darted away from him briefly as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth. "Ready for your spellwork?" she asked.
Draco nodded and drew his wand, preparing himself for another disheartening day of failed charms.
"Start with the shield charm, yeah?" she said, standing from the bed.
Summoning his magic, Draco lifted his wand and uttered, "Protego."
The shimmery shield materialized before him. It was stronger than his last attempt and for a brief moment he felt a surge of elation run through him.
And then something soft burst through the shield and hit him square in the chest.
"Fucking hell!" He stumbled back, eyes darting to the pillow that had been lobbed at him by a mischievous witch.
"What d-did you do that for?" he growled.
Granger just grinned and shrugged innocently. "I thought you might need a little motivation." She picked up another pillow from the bed. "Try again. And make sure you're ready this time, because this one's coming for your head."
Draco barely had time to produce a shield before a fluffy white pillow bounced off of it.
"Good!" Granger praised with a grin, picking up another pillow. She threw it at him with surprising strength for a witch of her size. It hit the shield and dropped to the floor, but the strain of maintaining the spell grew too much for Draco. It flickered away, and the next pillow hit him in the face. "Oops. Sorry." Though the apology flew from her lips, it hardly seemed sincere. Probably because of the laugh that followed immediately after.
"You'll p-pay for that, Granger," Draco warned with a wicked grin, bending to pick up one of the pillows and throwing it back at her.
She squeaked and turned away, arms covering her head. The pillow hit her shoulder and she rounded on him, eyes alight with mirth. "Hey!" she admonished. "You're supposed to be defending yourself."
"If you wanted a pillow fight, Granger, all you had to do was ask," Draco teased.
Granger's cheeks flushed crimson. "We should probably—"
Draco didn't know why he did it—perhaps childish fun was so lacking these days that he simply couldn't resist—but he crossed the room, pillow in hand, aiming for her frizzy head and…
Thwack!
Granger stared at him, mouth agape. He smirked down at her and raised an eyebrow in challenge.
In the next instant, Granger summoned a pillow and swung it with all her might against his arm. Suddenly feeling as alive as he did on the Quidditch pitch, Draco battled her with as much childish enthusiasm as he could muster. He felt his senses heighten as if seeking out the golden snitch. Air rushed to his lungs as he swung his pillow against her middle.
Granger squealed with delight as she pummeled him in return. He had never seen her laugh so freely, and soon he found himself laughing right along with her.
Draco felt the swirl of her magic and looked around to see that she had every pillow in the room zooming toward him. Instinctively, he raised his wand and produced a shield, but it was too slow for one of the pillows. It smacked into his hip and sent him stumbling into Granger where they fell in a pile onto the bed.
Granger was beneath him, small and warm, her hair spread around her head like a halo. They were both panting, chests colliding clumsily with each ragged inhale. A final little laugh escaped her before her eyes went a bit wide. Her hand was on his arm and her fingers tightened around his bicep.
His breath hitched in his throat as her eyes flickered to his mouth. Her lips were parted and pink, little puffs of air escaping them, and Draco wondered—not for the first time—what it might be like to kiss them.
"Hermione?" A voice called from beyond the door. "Everything alright?"
They jumped apart, scrambling to their feet and dropping their pillows to the floor. Draco adjusted his trousers as inconspicuously as he could and picked up his wand.
"Yeah, Harry!" Granger squeaked, tugging at the bottom of her shirt. She bolted for the door, cheeks burning, hands trying furiously to smooth her hair. She pulled the door open to reveal Potter standing quite close, as if a moment before he had had his ear pressed against the door. "We were just practicing some spell work."
Potter stared at Granger's red cheeks and frazzled hair before his eyes darted around the room. Pillows scattered the floor and Draco stood stiffly by the bed, trying very unsuccessfully to act naturally. "Right…" he drawled, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Well, if you two are… finished, we're having a house meeting downstairs in a minute."
"Great. Thank you." Granger turned away from Potter and walked back to Draco to scoop her wand off the bed, deftly avoiding his eyes. Turning and marching back to the door, she sidled past Potter. "Shut up, Harry," she growled.
Potter raised an amused eyebrow, holding up his hands defensively. "I didn't say anything."
The two of them disappeared down the stairs and Draco trailed after them a moment later. What the hell had just happened? Had he honestly nearly kissed Granger? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image of her beneath him, the feeling of her pressed against him, the way her eyes had flickered to his lips as if waiting…
Fuck.
No. Absolutely not. He could not be having these thoughts about Granger. She was strictly off limits. Even ignoring their contentious past, Pansy was sure to act against Granger if she knew that Draco was beginning to think of her in such ways—which he wasn't. Was he?
No. Absolutely not.
But Pansy already suspected that he was, and Draco couldn't allow that.
Despite Draco's suspicions about her, Pansy seemed to get along very well with the other inhabitants of the Westenberg house. While Draco had hidden himself away for several days after he'd arrived, Pansy seemed eager to socialize as much as possible. By the end of her first week there, it seemed that she had become friends with everyone. Even Potter seemed to have warmed up to her.
After Draco had warned Potter to check the wards on Granger's room, he had been wary of Pansy for several days. He kept his distance in the common areas of the house and was cold and short with her whenever they had to speak.
But after four days, Pansy approached Potter in the kitchen. Draco had been sitting at the table, his face buried in a copy of that day's Daily Prophet. He'd been surprised to hear Pansy go out of her way to strike up a conversation with The Boy Who Lived.
"Listen, Harry," she began timidly. "I wanted to apologize about what happened last year at Hogwarts."
Draco looked up from his spot at the kitchen table in surprise. Potter regarded Pansy with skeptical curiosity as she stood tall before him, poised as ever even when gravelling.
"I was young and frightened and I'm truly sorry."
After a moment of tense silence, Potter nodded and offered her a tight smile. "Apology accepted."
And just like that, another ally Draco had against Pansy was gone.
Draco couldn't blame everyone for readily accepting her. She was helpful and charming. Though she wasn't allowed to use her wand outside of official Order business, she always volunteered to help cook dinner or to do the washing after meals by hand. She seemed genuinely invested in getting to know each person and making amends for how she had behaved in the past.
After a week, Ginny and Seamus Finnegan joined the team at Westenberg. Finnegan seemed to dislike Pansy, but in honesty he seemed to dislike everyone. He was even surly with his former Gryffindor classmates. The man was even quicker to snap than Draco was, and spent most of his time alone or sitting quietly and scowling through meetings and meals.
Much to Draco's chagrin and despite their previous interaction at headquarters, Pansy and Ginny quickly became friends. He had hoped that the youngest Weasley would maintain her distrust of Pansy, but it seemed that wouldn't be the case.
Normally, Ginny would have spent her free time with Potter or Granger, but with the two of them frequently occupied with their own duties, the youngest Weasley had little else to do but get to know the newest Order member. And strangely enough, they hit it off.
On Ginny's second evening at the Westenberg house, everyone sat in the living room after dinner. Charlie turned the dial of the old radio until he found a scratchy station barely coming through. A Weird Sisters song was wrapping up, and for just a moment, Draco felt like he was back at the Yule Ball dancing with Pansy.
The dark haired witch looked up at him from across the room and smiled, apparently remembering their fourth year date as well. He returned a thin smile back to her before averting his eyes.
"That was The Weird Sisters with Magic Works," said the announcer as the song ended. "Next, we have a classic hit from Celestina Warbeck."
"Oh no!" Ginny and Pansy moaned simultaneously.
There was a beat of silence as the two witches looked at each other incredulously, their eyes slowly lighting up.
"You don't like her either?" Ginny asked.
Pansy groaned and rolled her eyes. "I hate her! My mother used to listen to her all the time! She even went to several of her concerts and dragged me along with her."
"Our mother loves her too," Ginny gushed, gesturing to Charlie. "Never went to any concerts, luckily, but the entire family was subjected to her albums every Christmas."
Pansy dropped her magazine into her lap and turned her body toward Ginny, drawing her legs up under herself. "I don't get it," she said conspiratorially. "She uses actual banshees as her backup singers. Banshees!"
Ginny laughed, and the two of them fell into easy conversation about their shared hatred.
The following morning, Draco entered the kitchen to find Ginny and Pansy sitting next to each other at the kitchen table, heads close together as they shared a magazine.
Potter stood by the stove, stirring scrambled eggs and occasionally casting annoyed glances over his shoulder at the two witches. When Draco approached him to retrieve a mug from the cupboard, Potter grumbled under his breath, "I liked it better when they hated each other."
"Ooh! Look at the Tornados' new uniforms!" Ginny squealed.
"Very flattering," Pansy agreed, nodding appreciatively. "Look at Middleton's biceps."
Ginny hummed her agreeance. "I'd climb him like a tree."
"Hey!" Potter protested, scowling at his girlfriend.
The redhead just grinned at Potter before continuing to gush over the fit Quidditch players in the magazine.
Draco frowned as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He had been depending on Ginny to be suspicious of Pansy, but it seemed that wouldn't be the case.
For his part, Draco did his best to keep Granger at arm's length after what nearly happened between them. With the exception of their daily sessions of spell work and physical therapy, he tried to avoid her as much as possible. He took meals at odd times and mostly stayed in his room, only emerging when he knew that she would be hard at work in the office. Although he knew that it was for the best, it was difficult for him to stay away from her. Especially since all he wanted these days was to be near her. Every time she walked into his room to deliver potions or help him with his spell work, his heart sped up and an annoying fluttering settled in his stomach.
It seemed that Granger was taking similar precautions. She never sought him out beyond their necessary interactions, and when they worked together, she no longer sat on his bed, but stood stiffly near the door as if she may need to run away at a moment's notice.
Despite her sudden coldness, she was still as attentive as ever as she watched him work. It seemed she had been onto something when she'd thrown pillows at his shield. He'd been thinking too much about how weak he'd become and not allowing his natural instincts and abilities to take control.
Granger now had him summoning pillows and deflecting her disarming spells. His simple spells and charms up through fifth year levels had all returned to him. He was far from the skill level he had once possessed, but he could feel his strength returning to him little by little every day.
Draco began to dread the day when Granger inevitably released him from her care and he wouldn't feel the annoying fluttering in his stomach as often. He knew that day was fast approaching. After that, they would no longer be required to stay in the same safe house. He might be stationed elsewhere, and if Pansy was with Granger and he was not, there would be no one to keep an eye on her. Yes, Granger was still under protective watch, but Draco knew that they were now much more relaxed while at the safe houses. They didn't seem to think that they could be reached on Order properties, and it was increasingly clear that no one else suspected that Pansy might have nefarious intentions.
To his horror, Draco noticed that Pansy and Charlie had started to become… close. Furtive glances and blushing cheeks, coy smiles and flirtatious touches. All the things that Pansy had once bestowed upon Draco, she now seemed to reserve for Charlie. Several nights in a row, he noticed that the two of them stayed up late in the living room, chatting and sipping tea. Pansy's body turned alluringly toward Charlie's on the couch as she dragged her nails through her silky hair.
In the mornings, the two nearly always made breakfast together the muggle way, Charlie's body close to Pansy's to help her turn the eggs or to reach for a plate. They laughed and spoke in hushed tones, all the while making Draco's stomach turn.
As the weather warmed, Potter, Ginny, and Charlie made their way outdoors and took to the skies. As Draco was still too unwell to fly, Pansy offered to be their fourth, which led to several flying lessons from Charlie. From the kitchen window, Draco saw the two of them flying through the garden, Charlie's arms wrapped around Pansy's middle as she steered the broom this way and that.
Under normal circumstances, Draco wouldn't be at all concerned about what—or who—occupied Pansy's time and attention. But Charlie was her superior, and Draco couldn't help but wonder if his position of power over her was a contributing factor in her interests.
Men are much more easily persuaded when lying on their backs.
Draco's instincts told him that Pansy's apparent interest in Charlie was merely a ruse in order to manipulate her mentor. Seduce him and gain his trust, thereby gaining the trust of the Order.
Worst of all, Pansy managed to fall into Granger's favor as well. Pansy shrewdly found her opportunity with Granger when she noticed a book that they had both read. It was too simple, really. Draco saw through it immediately. Any fool would use books to get into Granger's good graces. Though he had hoped that Granger wouldn't be so easily won over, the bookworm lit up at the chance to talk about the novel, immediately asking Pansy what her favorite scene had been, and if she'd been utterly devastated when her favorite character perished.
It was like watching a runaway bludger careen toward the stands and being unable to stop it. Pansy had manipulated everyone in the Westenberg house and no one seemed to be able to see through her charms.
No one except Draco.
He knew he had to do something. He couldn't just wait around until Pansy attacked. He couldn't just hope that Granger would be safe.
He had to be sure.
Sneaking around was much harder than it used to be. Gone were his catlike reflexes and silent steps. Though he now had faith that they would return to him in time, he couldn't stand around on his clumsy feet and wait until they did.
One bright Saturday, Draco waited until he could hear peals of girlish laughter drifting in from the garden before making his way up the stairs as quietly as he could.
Pansy was not allowed to use her wand unless her life depended on it. She never even carried it with her, choosing instead to depend on others for simple spell work and prove that she was accepting of their conditions. But Draco knew how crafty she was. No wards were impenetrable, including the ones on her wand. If she found a way to break them, there was no limit to the havoc she could wreak.
He had contemplated snatching the wand, replacing it with a replica and taking away her ability to use magic entirely. But he knew that wasn't the right move. Even when he had been on probation, Draco had needed his own wand to help with clean-up on missions.
No, he couldn't just take it. That would arouse suspicion. Pansy would need something functional if she was called to help.
It would be a complex spell, but he was sure he could manage given enough determination and time.
Draco crept into Pansy's room and tiptoed to her bedside table. Her wand was waiting in the top drawer, looking equal parts innocent and deadly. Draco picked it up and held it between his fingers.
There was no doubt in his mind, this wand had performed dark magic. The way it pulsed in his hand was all too familiar, all too repulsive.
Drawing his own wand and summoning his magic, he whispered a series of spells. It took several tries over several days. He snuck into her room while she was in the shower or eating meals or with Charlie in the garden. Finally, he managed it, and his spells took hold of the wand in his hand.
Pansy would be able to use her wand on assignment if necessary, but within this house or any other Order property, it would be as useless as an ordinary stick. Unmagical, useless… safe.
Once Pansy's probation had ended and she had proven herself trustworthy, he would reverse the spell, but until then this was the only way Draco could ensure that Granger was safe.
And he would go to any lengths to keep her safe.
A/N: Updates every Monday. Next chapter posts May 25th
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