CHAPTER TWO: The obsession

Pansy Parkinson has had enough. She would've never thought that finding out what Draco was up to, could be that difficult. She tried talking to him, countless times, but he kept repeating that Hogwarts is a joke and that he has better things to do now. He even started avoiding her, which infuriated her even more. She wondered whether someone actually might've given him some... task. But that was ridiculous! And not-at-all possible. He was just sixteen… Besides, what could Draco possibly do for him? Zabini was right, he wasn't even fully qualified.

Pansy decided that one of the best ways to check if he thought about dropping out of school seriously, was monitoring his grades. He was one of the best, after all, and even if he never succeeded in besting Granger, he was always counting on it.

Pansy's already figured out a plan, maybe not the very best one, but it was still something. Apart from grades, she had to observe his behaviour as well. He already seemed a little off, especially since he was ignoring his Slytherin friends. But if he started ignoring Potter and his gang – now, that would mean trouble. Even though she hasn't noticed anything yet, she was terrified that he would stop teasing them, and that would mean that whatever task he got, it was making him… depressed? She couldn't find a proper word for it, but that might've been one of her fears.

They were eating dinner in the Great Hall but Parkinson, lost in thought, barely touched her food. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the blonde boy sitting next to her until he stood up rather hastily and ran out of the hall. She didn't even try to hide her great surprise.

'You really have to stop this obsession, Parkinson,' she heard a soft voice next to her.

She turned around and looked at the tall, pale figure of Theodore Nott with great anger.

'What is that supposed to mean?'

He was looking at her challengingly with his greyish eyes.

'I know what you're doing. But you're better off not knowing. You really don't want to dig deeper,' he explained calmly.

That only made her more furious.

'Well, it's really none of your business, is it, Nott?'

He just smirked slightly and shook his head, letting his hair get into his eyes.

'Trust me, Pansy –'

'Wait, are you telling me that you know what's going on?' she asked, ignoring whatever he was trying to say.

He frowned.

'You really, really don't want to know,' he sighed finally, and headed for the door, leaving his plate full.

With anger, she stuck her fork into the meat. Fine. If they don't want to tell her, then no. She'll find out herself. But – to her content – they already made a mistake. If Theo knows, it's going to be a lot easier figuring this out because, well, two people leave much more trace than one person does.

Then, she noticed that a handful of people were coming into the Great Hall. Her gaze promptly fell onto the dark-skinned boy.

'Hey, Zabini!' she called out to him as soon as he made his way to the Slytherin table. He sat right next to her.

'What's up?' he asked blandly, although she knew perfectly well he didn't really care for a response.

'What's with Nott? He appears to have stolen your boyfriend,' she noticed with a dose of irony, which made Blaise snort.

'Well, our princess has abandoned her gang and came back to an old friend. I don't see why there would be anything wrong with that,' he shrugged but was pierced with Pansy's speculative glare.

'You're also an old friend.'

He looked at her with uncertainty. 'You think they're up to something?'

'I don't think so. I know so.'

He smirked with scepticism.

She didn't say anything more. She walked out of the Great Hall, heading straight for the dormitory. Firstly, and most importantly, she needed to be absolutely sure if Draco had joined the Death Eaters. As essential to her investigation as it was, she knew it wasn't going to be easy. Even if on his left forearm was, in fact, the Dark Mark, he wouldn't just show it around. He might act like he was proud of it, but there was more to it, and she sensed it. She was sure he'd already concealed it somehow. Besides, he couldn't risk it for Potter to see it. Or anyone else, for that matter. So it was clear to her that she had to get a little creative – she wasn't going to see it with her own eyes. She had to make him act the way that would prove that he had the Mark. Whatever he was planning – he would be extra careful about it. He might have been a provoker but not once, was he reckless. Well, apart from the Hippogriff accident, obviously.

Nevertheless, he needed help. He might not have asked for it or even rejected it, but he was going to need it, whether he liked it or not. The proof was the fact that Nott let in on it. Draco mentioned that the task doesn't require any qualifications. So either it was more complicated than he'd previously thought or he needed someone to help him with clarity and mental ability. And who would be better than Nott whose father was a Death Eater? Not only would he understand him, but also advise him as he wasn't dim-witted – like Crabbe and Goyle for example. Besides, they were childhood friends, so Draco could probably talk about it without resistance.

She was walking down to the dungeons when she met Malfoy, who was pacing about the corridor. He was looking around suspiciously, stopping abruptly every five seconds. Pansy frowned and immediately decided to act.

She came up to him. She wasn't sure if she was doing it out of anger – because he kept something from her – or maybe because she saw that something was wrong. And she just wanted to help. The second option wasn't very appealing to her, especially since she hated everyone. She was also a Slytherin and wasn't a bloody Hufflepuff, who might be eager to help out of the goodness of heart. But she saw that something had changed, ever since the beginning of the year – he returned less determined, quieter, melancholic and maybe even… Sad?

Even though she was standing right in front of him, he only noticed her after a few seconds. He looked at her as if he saw her for the first time in his life.

'What are you doing here?' he blurted out and she just raised her eyebrows, staring pointedly behind him.

'We've got a dormitory here, remember?' she replied, pointing at the door.

'Right,' he chuckled nervously, clearly bemused.

He was averting her gaze, looking all around the corridor. As if he was searching for something – maybe a way out.

'Hey, is something wrong?' she asked attentively with concern on her face, touching his left forearm.

He gave her a look of utter bewilderment and immediately snatched his arm away. Without another word, he hurried upstairs and, within another second, he was out of sight.

She just stood there, rooted to the spot, glaring at the place where he'd stood just mere seconds ago. But she already knew. Snatching the arm away could only mean it was there. And that fear on his face... The Dark Mark was really there…

She didn't know whether he took it willingly or maybe if they'd made him. She's heard a lot about 'the incident' that happened right before the holidays. Lucius Malfoy failed again and couldn't intercept the prophecy out of Potter's hands. The Dark Lord must have been furious, so… Since he was clearly evil, he presumably cared for the punishment to be severe. And forcing their son take the mark would be just the way to achieve that. But following this path, Pansy would have to conclude that the task would have to be… at least incredibly dangerous.

She felt nauseous at the thought. She closed her eyes for a second to calm down, and as she breathed in deeply, she went into the Common Room, thoughts still racing through her mind.

She knew Draco well enough to at least suspect how he felt when he took the mark. He felt favoured. Exceptional. Better. He was never enough – whether it was Granger when it came to grades, or whether it was Potter when it came to Quidditch – and now, finally, he was enough. He was chosen, so he was fooling himself that it was because he was special. But it didn't last very long – she saw what was happening to him. It had to have something to do with this supposed task. Whatever it was, Pansy found it hard to believe that his parents agreed to this. On the other hand, they probably didn't have any alternative – they have already made some mistakes that the Dark Lord wasn't so willing to forgive.

She wanted to head straight to her dormitory, but she stumbled upon 'Slytherin's finest'. They were glaring at her and would presumably start a fight, sooner or later, so she decided to sit in an armchair near the fireplace to watch the mayhem unfold. The girls looked at her with a distaste for a second and then started sharing knowing looks with each other.

After Pansy realised she hated everyone, she decided it was pointless to keep in touch with these 'Oh-Salazar-I-Broke-My-Nail' idiots. She might have had a gang once (which she was particularly proud of), but she was too tired of faking the friendship. Besides, she hated badmouthing – which was apparently their hobby. She preferred being mean face to face. Most importantly, it was challenging, but also so much more fun. Milicent, Daphne, Tracey and Pansy have shared a dormitory for six years so she knew they must hate her now. She's just stopped talking to them without giving any particular reason. Only Daphne was sane enough to earn a couple of sentences from Pansy. However, when Milicent and Tracey were around, Parkinson went back to ignoring Daphne as well. And the girl seemed to have adjusted to this already.

Pansy turned away from the tall windows through which Slytherin students could watch the Black Lake and its wildlife. Since the girls were pretty quiet, she took out the textbook for Defence Against the Dark Arts. She never managed to open the book, because she suddenly heard her name among other whispers and laughs. She shifted uncomfortably. Pansy had a bad feeling about this. They were sitting behind her on the couch, so she didn't see them but decided not to turn around – it wouldn't be very wise to provoke them. So she just rolled her eyes to herself and opened the book, but just as she wanted to start reading, she saw, in the corner of her eye, a big figure standing before her. Needless to say, it was Milicent with her hands on her hips. Pansy definitely did not like this.

'Did they send you here to scare me?' smirked Pansy and took in the girl's posture with fake admiration. Bulstrode always prided herself in her strength, but Parkinson valued the power of brains, rather than muscles. And here, well, her victory was more than certain.

'You think you're better than us,' stated Milicent with her deep voice.

'No, I simply don't like talking to people with whom I have absolutely nothing in common,' she replied indifferently.

'You're saying you don't have the same beliefs as we, the Slytherins?' Bulstrode asked, apparently trying to sound smart.

Parkinson just laughed coldly.

'Darling, if you mean blood purity – I wouldn't touch a mudblood if they gave me a million galleons for this.'

Milicent nodded and was about to go away, but Pansy just couldn't stop herself and said with an unmistakable grin, 'For two million, on the other hand –'

But then, Pansy Parkinson saw only darkness.