CHAPTER FIVE: Moaning Myrtle

Pansy Parkinson hated not having a detailed plan. But the good thing was, she had one, at the very least.

In the evening, when Blaise and Draco had gone to the quidditch training (finally, after suspiciously not playing in the Gryffindor-Slytherin match for some reason that no one knew about), Pansy Parkinson was in the Common Room, observing Crabbe and Goyle closely. She didn't know what to do next, whether to just come over and talk to them or wait for something to happen... But she didn't have forever. Quidditch practice wouldn't last longer than two hours, and they've already been gone for fifteen minutes. Time was not on her side.

Just then, something happened – she saw them getting up and heading for the door, so she immediately took off after them.

'Hey, wait for me!' she shouted.

They turned around, and shock appeared on their faces.

'What's up?' asked Crabbe suspiciously.

'Draco asked me to come with you,' she lied quickly.

They looked at each other uncertainly but agreed for her to come either way. They headed for the stairs, so she followed them. There was a problem, though – she didn't know what should she do now. What to say or where to go… She had to improvise.

'So he finally decided to tell you, huh?' Goyle asked suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

'Yup,' she said with a fake smile plastered on her face.

If they weren't Crabbe and Goyle, they might've felt her hesitation. But at the same time, she tried to remind herself that even though they were only Crabbe and Goyle, they shouldn't be underestimated.

She regained her posture and continued after them. The biggest problem was the fact that she had no idea where they were going and so acting as though she knew, was not the easiest. At least, without raising any suspicions. Luckily, they didn't walk too long when they arrived. They stopped before the Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor – Pansy was really surprised, she didn't really expect… Well, surely not that. She went inside, remembering this whole time to sustain her poker face on. Crabbe and Goyle bustled about for a while but soon came back revealing medium-sized cauldron in which a weird substance was bubbling.

She approached the cauldron to have a closer look. The thick fluid was brown, rather dark – which made it look like mud… Precisely like the Polyjuice Potion – the one Slughorn showed them on their first Potions lesson this semester. But what would they need it for?

'I have to say I'm er… quite shocked that Draco trusted you with such a – uh – important task,' she said after a moment, with something weird in her voice, what was supposed to resemble admiration.

'We're just guarding here,' admitted Crabbe, earning a well-deserved kick in the ankle from Goyle.

'Exactly,' replied Pansy, sceptically looking into the cauldron.

This elixir was very advanced – and for that reason, she was absolutely sure that these two had nothing to do with brewing it. That was Draco's work, no doubt. He probably got inspired after the lesson with Slughorn. Maybe even stole some of it to make sure he brews it correctly?

'I still think the Room of Requirement would be a better choice for making a potion,' she said.

After all, Potter and his 'Dumbledore's Army' had been meeting there for a year, before they were finally caught. It was the best place in all of Hogwarts to hide. Even she sometimes used that room if she wanted to get away from all those idiots, but would never admit that Potter and his gang gave her this idea.

'Well, no one else comes here, either way,' they heard a high, squeaky voice.

'Myrtle,' Pansy greeted the ghost with a cold smile.

'He just wanted to keep me company. He needs it, too, you know. He's so sad lately.'

Parkinson raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

'He can't do everything in one room, that'd be stupid,' stated Crabbe after a second. It might've been the smartest thing he's ever said if not, no doubt, overheard from Draco's. But that caught Pansy's attention: it could only mean that Malfoy did use the Room of Requirement – however, for something else.

'Right,' she replied quickly so as not to raise any suspicions. 'That's true.'

'He says it's too much for him. He doesn't have anyone else, so he talks to me,' boasted Myrtle, looking down at them, apparently waiting for some kind of praise.

But that hurt Pansy, if possible, more than anything. So what, he didn't have anyone? So who was Theo? And who was she? He trusted Moaning fucking Myrtle, but not her? That made her feel… degraded. So many years and so much effort that she'd put in this relationship and suddenly he trusts a ghost, who can do nothing more than whine about her life, over her? That was almost unacceptable… If she didn't feel sorry for her. Or him.

Nevertheless, she's had enough. She stormed out of the bathroom, not caring about the surprised looks. When she came back to the Common Room, she ignored everyone who greeted her and sat back in her favourite chair, taking the book that was closest and tried focusing on it. But she couldn't. She tried to make herself believe that it wasn't the end of the world. However, she couldn't convince herself. She felt betrayed. It looked to her like she was less trustworthy than someone who wasn't even his friend.

She slammed the book shut since she wasn't reading anyway. A few people cast her nervous glances, but she didn't care for them. She observed the fireplace as if it was something gripping.

'Hi,' said a voice behind her which made her muscles instantly flex.

'Draco.'

She got up shakily and considered him carefully. She noticed he was much paler than at the beginning of the year. His eyes were bleary and had dark circles under them as if he hadn't slept for weeks. He looked terrible, to be honest. She tried not to look at him with compassion.

'Fancy a walk?' he asked.

'Er – sure,' she replied, surprised at the invitation.

They walked out of the Common Room and out of the castle in silence. Pansy felt a bit uncomfortable. She missed the old times, even if she wasn't entirely herself back then. But he knew that – and her, probably better than she knew herself. So it wouldn't be such a problem. And it was so much easier back then...

It was almost dark outside, so they didn't have much time to be outside. However, they still headed for the lake.

'If I didn't know you better than this, I would've said that you thought I wouldn't find out anything from Crabbe and Goyle,' he spoke up finally, with a sad manner in his voice.

She smiled delicately, 'Well, it wasn't really that hard.'

'I can imagine.'

'...But I can't quite say I understand,' she admitted.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, why did you choose them? You know that both Blaise and I, well, even Theo –'

'They don't know anything,' he interrupted flatly.

'W– What?'

'I chose them because they're the only ones who'll do what I say without asking questions.'

They were alone, everybody else already went back to the castle. The lake was already close. Draco was glancing at Pansy every few seconds like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. He sighed finally and shook his head.

'I'd like you to stop this investigation,' he said finally.

'What?' she hissed.

'Blaise was literally interrogating me today at the practice. I know you two want to find out what's going on, but it's really none of your business,' he explained without a hint of anger, yet not even looking in her direction.

They finally arrived at the lake with the last trace of the sun hanging behind the horizon. He sat at one of the rocks and gazed into the pitch-black water. Pansy, however, stood in front of him with her arms crossed.

'None of our business?' she asked crossly. 'Let me get this straight. From the beginning of the term you barely talk to us, you look like you haven't slept in ages, not to mention haven't eaten, because you stopped even going to meals! Plus, the only person you talk to is apparently Moaning Myrtle, so if you say it is none of our business, you don't even know us, Draco.'

'Why do you care so much?' he asked suddenly.

'Excuse me?'

'What's happening. I mean, I get it, you're worried, but why can't you let this one go?

'I know it's something to do with You-Know-Who. The way you talked on the train… And whatever it is, it is destroying you, don't deny it...'

Draco suddenly stood up and walked up to the shore. The moon had already risen, and its light illuminated the lake, which made it look as if it was full of silvery sparks.

'It's not so easy, you know.'

'Why?' she demanded, trying to contain her rising anger.

'You wouldn't understand,' he said, kicking some gravel.

She looked at him challengingly, and so he sighed again.

'You're better off not knowing, okay? Why do you care so much?'

Pansy didn't really have a lot of time to make this decision, although the moment when she was thinking it over, seemed to have lasted way too long. The thought of losing him, that she wouldn't get another chance like this, that he'll just isolate himself from others – or worse – this task will destroy or even kill him, was haunting her. That's why, however insecure at the beginning, she walked up closer to him. He tried to avert her gaze, but this time she didn't let him. She hasn't decided if it was a good decision or not, but it was too late to back out now.

Terrified of rejection, her heart pounding like crazy, she closed the distance between them and kissed him. She expected him to take a step back – but to her surprise, he didn't. On the contrary – not only did he return the kiss, but also put his hands around her waist, pulling her even closer. She felt his longing as she deepened the kiss and could almost feel his sadness fading away. This lasted only a second when he put his hands on her arms and pushed her away. When he didn't even look at her, she felt a stitching pain in the heart.

'You should just stay away from me,' he whispered expressionlessly and twirling around, he took off quickly to the castle, not once turning around.

She was paralysed. Simply standing there, she was watching the figure drifting away, not being able to move. She felt her eyes prickling and wanted to curse herself. Pansy Parkinson hated crying.