Better Be Slytherin
L
Walking determinately down the stairs to his dormitory, Pansy hurrying to keep up to him, he grabbed her hand to speed her along.
"I thought I told you not to talk about this," he muttered at her as the door swung open to reveal the dark, settled dormitory. They were all there; Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise and Zabini, all of them except maybe Goyle if Draco wasn't mistaken, angry with him for their separate reasons, and all of them pretending to be asleep. He sighed and made his way to his own bed as Pansy muttered a retort behind him. He unfastened his cloak and hung it next to his bed on the serpent hook, as Pansy came up behind him and put her arms around him, demanding attention. "Sorry," she whispered non-comittally. "But now Kneazle's out of the bag. There's nothing I can do now."
"Put the sodding Kneazle back then," Draco hissed so nobody would hear them, as he shrugged out of her grip and continued getting undressed. "You should be glad you're not being tortured as we speak."
His stomach actually turned over. The thought of her being put under the Cruciatus curse by that filthy woman Alecto Carrow made his blood boil, however annoyed he was with Pansy at the moment.
Pansy looked slightly frightened at that, he saw as he glanced at her while removing his shirt. He got into bed wearing only boxers and waited for Pansy to join him. She seemed to have been frozen by what he'd said, she just sat there fully dressed not moving.
"You really think they would've done that? To me?" breathed Pansy.
"It wouldn't surprise me. Let's see how the morning turns out, shall we."
Pansy looked positively distraught now. "But I'm a Pureblood. Surely—"
"So what? So is Longbottom and Ginny Weasley. That didn't stop them being tortured, did it."
He saw Pansy's face screw up in the darkness and felt a pang of guilt for some reason.
"I don't want to be tortured," she breathed and he wondered if she was tearing up.
"Come here," he said affectionately, his tone completely changed. She took his out-held hand and he put his arms around her.
"I'm not going to let that happen to you," he said softly. "I promise. But this is why I've been trying to make you shut up."
"I suppose I didn't think anything I said could make me a target."
"You've been underestimating the Dark Lord, then. Can you agree now that it's better to keep your mouth shut? "
"Fine," she said easily. "I see your point." She pulled away, undressed and crept under the duvet.
"Draco," she whispered then. He turned to her and put his arms around her, she was warm in the cold bed. "When did you realise you didn't support the Dark Lord anymore?" she asked and played with his hair.
He looked away. Good question, and one he wasn't sure he had a specific answer to. When had he realised it? When his father had been kept in Azkaban? When his mission had started to go bad? When Katie Bell and Ron Weasley nearly had been killed because of him? On top of the Astronomy Tower with a wandless Dumbledore by the battlements? The first time he'd been tortured by the Dark Lord? The first time he'd been forced to torture others because of the Dark Lord? Over Christmas when he'd kidnapped Lovegood and killed an old man? He wasn't sure.
"I don't know, Pans."
"Surely you must know."
"I suppose it's been coming on for a while. I don't think I really wanted to kill Dumbledore. I think he gave me that job because he knew I would fail. He wanted to punish my father. At first I wanted to prove myself. I was excited even, because I'd always wanted to follow in my father's footsteps. Then I realised my father had ended up in prison and I was set to do something not even the Dark Lord had managed... I realised how trapped I was. I was never meant to succeed."
"But you got away with it," said Pansy almost admiringly. He remembered how she'd looked at him on the train when he'd bragged about receiving his task, and when she'd accidentally seen his Dark Mark for the first time. She'd been so impressed. He'd never thouht they'd get to this point.
"Yes, placing myself in an even more trapped position. After that I was openly a Death Eater. I've bound myself to him for life, Pansy. I have to serve him until I die."
A thick, tensed silence hung over them.
"I realised that the Dark Lord hadn't done anything to deserve my loyalty. He left my father to rot in Azkaban just to prove a point when he could've released him anytime. He was in control of the Dementors. But he just left my father in there. And... we were such a powerful Pureblood family, and had been for centuries. So why did we allow ourselves be ordered around by a Half-blood? In our own house..."
"I didn't know he was a Half-blood. What a hypocrite!" hissed Pansy.
Draco made a mental note to do Occlumency before he fell asleep. This could never get out.
Then Pansy sighed. "I miss when we could just tell your father if anything was the matter at school, and he would sort it right out," she said. "He could've gotten rid of the Carrows in a heartbeat back when he was a governor."
Ironic, Draco thought, that now his father had sunk to the absolute bottom of rank and was probably the last person who could help them – in fact Draco had now for ages been the one trying to help Lucius back. Odd how things turned out, wasn't it?
"You really aren't your father's son anymore, Draco," she whispered. "When it comes to opinions."
He'd never thought about it like that before, but he supposed it was true.
"And you're finally your father's daughter. Hasn't he always wanted you to realise this?"
Pansy sniggered. "Oh, he'll be pleased. It only took me seventeen years, but now I get what he was trying to teach me."
"Shame it's to no purpose."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the Dark Lord's already won. I've already got this." He held up his left arm where the thick black skull was branded. "He's not going anywhere. Neither can I. And soon his last threat will be eradicated..."
"Maybe someone will kill him. Like, Potter."
"Potter hasn't got a chance," said Draco. "Not even Dumbledore could kill him, and he was a powerful wizard. Potter hasn't got any special powers, he's just always gotten lucky. He's managed to hide out thus far but he'll be found. The Dark Lord's followers just keep growing. He's already in charge of the Ministry, the bank, the media. Potter hasn't got a chance."
Draco was struck momentarily by how gloomy his life looked. His future was so dark. All he could see was Voldemort. How much was Draco willing to do just to live? How far is he willing to go?
Was it worth it putting the Cruciatus curse on others just to survive ?
Apparently, because he'd done it for a year now.
Sometimes he disgusted himself. Wouldn't it even be better to die?
He'd become such a coward. If his father knew he was thinking this he would disown him.
Probably Pansy realised how heavy he felt, because wordlessly she came closer and put her arms around him. She bent over him, her hair on his face but he didn't mind, because it was her.
"Did you know that Dumbledore offered me protection?" he whispered. Pansy pulled away to look at him. "On the night he died, he said I could come over to their side if I wanted. That his resistance organisation could keep me and my mother safe."
"No, you never told me that," she whispered carefully.
"I was tempted to accept. But then the other Death Eaters came. And Snape killed Dumbledore."
"Maybe we could still do it."
Draco pondered this, but pushed the thought away. "No, it's too late now."
They were silent for a long time, in which Draco began nearing sleep. She moved in the darkness under the duvet, closer to him, putting her head on his chest. Subconsciously, he put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. It smelled childishly sweet, like Droobles blowing gum and Hocus Pocus pops. Like the Amortentia had smelled back in sixth year potions.
"I love you." It just slipped out in a whisper, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.
Then he realised what he'd just done. Her head turned up to him slowly, and their eyes met in the darkness merely inches away from each other. She frowned in surprise and he felt instantly abashed. But then she did something she very rarely did – she smiled a genuine smile. He smirked vaguely in the darkness as she moved in to kiss him slowly.
By then, his heart was banging in his chest. She's mine, he thought smugly.
Tracey was shocked and but not impressed yet by what Pansy had said tonight. She pondered this as she listened to the other girls' deep, sleepy breathing in the dormitory. She never thought perfect, prefect, Pureblood Pansy would ever see her way of thinking. Perhaps she wasn't all the way there yet but there had certainly been improvements to her friend's ancient views. Tracey had spent the last nearly seven years with her head down when her dorm mates had been talking about how wonderful Voldemort was. She'd never been shifted, like Daphne, who actually didn't have any connections to the Death Eaters but had been around Pansy and Malfoy too much until she actually believed them. It hadn't taken long. Probably by the end of their first ever term back in first year, everyone had known where they stood.
Tracey had been a solitary non supporter ever since. The only other Slytherin she knew that wasn't a Voldemort-sympathiser was Blaise Zabini, although he still used terms like 'Mudblood'. Tracey sighed to herself in bed. She'd accepted her lot a long time ago because she knew she was at a disadvantage. She'd actually grown up with stabile, loving parents. She wondered if you could say the same for Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Malfoy. Probably Malfoy's parents were the best out of them, and they were still Death Eaters. But Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Zabini – she didn't think anyone had taught them to respect others' feelings and views, that violence isn't ok, that showing emotion is ok, that everyone is equal... So she could see why they were seemingly callous and drawn to the dark side.
Well either it was that, she thought, or being in Slytherin just made them like that. Because surely, Slytherin wasn't the house where they put all the bad kids? Surely, being in Slytherin made them like that. Because they were oppressed by the rest of the school, bullied by the other houses. How many times hadn't she been left out because she was a Slytherin? Or received little comments about her being Slytherin from the other houses? Of course that made the inter-house loyalty grow, and hatred for the other houses grow simultaneously. They were all bunched together because the rest of the school wouldn't be friendly with them, which gave them no outside perspective, which allowed Voldemorts views to be spread, and to infest and grow within Slytherin. They only had each other so of course they listened to each other. And then they peer pressured each other into bullying. Like how Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had always scared younger students away from the armchairs in front of the fire, or how the old Quidditch team with Bletchley and Montague at the front had always picked at Adrian Pucey. And these days they were peer pressuring each other into performing Unforgivable Curses on other students. Hatred breeds hatred after all, she thought. But then, of course, in a house full of leaders, conflicts are bound to ensue. She wondered if all the leaders just came to Slytherin, and the cockiness just imploded, and the strongest leaders won. Because if Queenie or even Tracey herself had been sorted into other houses she was sure they would've been leaders. Privately, she thought she'd be Ravenclaw. Gryffindor wasn't on the cards for her – because she had shut up about her views for seven years and let herself be dominated by Pansy.
Because ambition in itself wasn't to blame, was it? Because ambition had given them a six-year streak of House Cup wins before a certain scarfaced hero arrived at Hogwarts. Yet every year after that, they kept working, all year, ambitiously, to prove themselves and win that cup. Because that's what Slytherins do, she thought fiercely, because if they couldn't be liked by the rest of the school, they could at least be respected or admired. But then that old tosser Dumbledore would always take their cup away at last minute and give it to Potter. Because why should they deserve anything they'd worked really hard for, she thought and rolled her eyes in the darkness. It was unfair, she thought and she knew she sounded like a baby, but it was unfair being a Slytherin.
They were branded for life just because they were sorted into a house. She'd always be known as Tracey Davis, Slytherin. It would always be held against her when she applied for jobs in the future, because they would think she or her parents had been Death Eaters. Most of her friends' families had been in Slytherin for generations, they had already accepted their fate as Slytherins, but Tracey herself came to Hogwarts as a blank sheet. Slytherin chose her, she didn't choose Slytherin. And if she could go back, she probably wouldn't have accepted being sorted into Slytherin.
But whatever the rest of the school thought, being Slytherin wasn't about being a Death Eater or sympatising with Voldemort. She wasn't there for those reasons. She was there because an old hat had found her ambitious and cunning. And she guessed, it was because she was out to get it for herself. Whatever she wanted, she would get it herself. Because she was clever – she knew nobody else was going to give it to her. Because she knew she had to bring herself happiness, because nobody else would do it. Because she mattered more than others, at least to herself. It was all about self-preservation. That's why she'd never stood up for her views. Because if it was the choice between being a dead hero or an alive coward, the choice was easy. But that didn't mean Slytherins were heartless, murderous Death Eaters. At least she wasn't.
And the only Death Eater she personally knew didn't seem to want it. Ironic how all the other boys were dying to be in Malfoy's shoes. But she didn't blame them – they had no grounds for their views, the Pureblood supremacy was simply banged into their heads from birth. She'd had a lucky escape there. It was the same reason Pansy strutted around the castle as if she owned it; she was rich, privileged and Pureblood, everything valued in Slytherin.
She, just like Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy and Nott were ugly not just on the outside but on the inside as well.
Tracey thought that she might pity them a little.
Because after all, Pansy hadn't said more than the fact that she didn't want to torture anyone of 'lesser blood'. Hardly heroic, was it?
Yet, perhaps it was a start, Tracey thought and finally drifted off to sleep.
Severus Snape sorted through rolls of parchment on his desk. They were all accounts of the misdeeds of students in the past few months. Nearly two hundred reports just for this school year. He sighed. Usually there'd be twenty or thirty for an entire normal school year. Usually, they would say "three nights detention for repeated tardiness" or "a week's detention for severe amounts of missed homework" or "two hour detention for failing to abide by curfew". But this year they were all written in the scrawly handwriting of Amycus Carrow and said "Talking back to teacher. Punishment: Cruciatus curse."
Severus sighed heavily and glanced up at the portrait of Albus on the wall. He was sleeping peacefully, his half-moon spectacles resting on the tip of his long nose.
He had just received some very worrying news indeed from Mr Carrow and was in dire need to speak to Albus about it. He needed directions; he doubted his own ability as Headmaster and was momentarily frustrated with Albus to have been put in this position.
"It's the Parkinson girl, Headmaster," Amycus had wheezed, panting as if making it his business to go straight to the Headmasters study after lessons. "Defied me in front of the whole class, didn't she! In front of a whole bunch of Blood-traitors, no less."
"Miss Parkinson? Of Slytherin?" Severus had inquired. He wasn't exactly on first-name basis with the girl but he knew she'd always hung after Draco and seemed to admire him for his connections with the Dark Lord. He knew her well enough to have picked her for Head Girl, and it surprised him that someone like Pansy Parkinson would stand up to a Death Eater.
"Yes," Amycus had said, his jaw clenched and his face twitching, "Wouldn't do a Crucio, firs' of all! Wouldn't even do a simple Crucio on a Blood-traitor."
"Indeed?"
"Told me the Blood-traitors were innocent, she did!" he had punched his fist into the desk. "Then actually told me to 'piss off'!"
Severus let out a small humourless laugh. "She's always been feisty. Ill-tempered, used to getting what she wants. Like Malfoy."
Amycus had looked close to whipping out his wand. "I urge you to take this more seriously, Snape! Speaking to a teacher like that should be enough for an expulsion from Hogwarts!"
Severus had pondered this. "A simple detention will do, I think."
"Detention?! Snape, she... she… It sounded like she didn't like the Dark Lord!"
Severus had narrowed his eyes. "In what way?" he said slowly.
"I dunno— I gave her a taste of the old backhand. Well, she weren't bloody listening, was she! She said she'd write to her father – then Malfoy stepped in."
"Malfoy?" Severus blood had felt cold.
"Yes! Telling me to 'leave the Head Girl alone'. I'm tellin' you, Snape, that Parkinson is becoming a Blood-traitor, and Malfoy was backin' her up!"
Severus had looked away, gravely affected by this.
"We should speak to the Dark Lord. He needs to know if they're going around—"
Severus held up a hand, silencing him. "What exactly has Mr Malfoy, who is in fact the only Death Eater out of the two, done to prove he isn't loyal to the Dark Lord?"
"Well, I wouldn't put it like that but he came in between me and Parkinson, didn't he!"
Severus rolled his eyes. "He's a seventeen year old boy who just saw his girlfriend get hit by a teacher. I'd say he has a right to be upset."
Amycus had shook his head. "You've always had a soft spot for the boy."
"He's merely a student of mine."
"And your Godson, isn't that right?"
"Regardless of our relationship, Mr Malfoy has done nothing wrong. As for Miss Parkinson… She didn't obey – so give her detention. But, Amycus," Severus had placed a restraining hand on Carrow's arm. "Don't take it too far."
"What about the Dark Lord?"
"If you insist, I shall speak to the Dark Lord. But I highly doubt he will treat this matter with any care. He has more pressing matters on his mind."
Amycus had looked disappointed, but convinced. "I still won't be spoken to like that by students."
"Well, tell them that, then. Or do you want me to do that for you as well?" Severus had said sarcastically.
The door had finally closed behind an aggravated Amycus. It worried him that Malfoy and Parkinson seemed to be less willing to help the Carrows. Was it really so that they were less supportive of the Dark Lord? Parkinson wasn't really in much danger, if that was the case, but Draco on the other hand... a sadness spread through him as he thought of the boy who had been through so much. What could Draco do if the Dark Lord was to become aware of this? Run – and last a couple of days like Regulus Black and Igor Karkaroff before being found dead? The boy would never dare risk something so huge because his parents would be targeted. Lucius and Narcissa naturally would do anything to save their son but they were extremely limited these days in resources.
Severus wondered if he should speak to Draco, but instantly dismissed the idea. He couldn't blow his cover just for Draco. It was an unneccessary risk. He'd sacrificed so much to be where he was now. Draco Malfoy just wasn't important enough to throw all that away for. He had to think of the Greater Good.
No, Severus knew that he could do absolutely nothing to help Draco. All hope lay with Harry Potter to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Then they would all be free.
Presently, Severus noticed a movement and looked up. Albus was smiling down at him, and a slight warmth spread through him.
"Good evening, Severus."
"How long have you been awake?" asked Severus.
"That's a question of definition," said Albus, his eyes twinkling. "Can I ever truly be awake, as I am – ah – a painting?"
"Did you hear professor Carrow?"
"Oh yes, indeed," smiled Albus. "I'm glad the Malfoy boy is coming around."
"I'm not telling the Dark Lord anything, naturally," said Severus.
"Naturally," Albus agreed.
"Potter broke into Gringotts this morning. Into Bellatrix' vault," Severus announced.
Albus broke into an even larger smile. "Did he now?"
"He has the cup. Now only the diadem and Nagini remain. And of course..." he looked away. "The boy himself."
"He has done well. Better, even, than I anticipated."
"The Dark Lord is very angry. He knows now, that we know about the Horcruxes."
"Well, it was inevitable he should find out at some point. Is he taking precautions with the other objects?"
"He hasn't told me, but I'm guessing, yes. He gave me strict instructions to keep Potter out of Hogwarts."
Albus looked pleased. "I'm sure Harry will find a way. He always does."
There was an odd note of pride in his voice. Bittersweetly, Severus thought that he, too, was proud of the boy. And with a jolt to his stomach imagining the future, he knew that once the boy had destroyed all the other Horcruxes, he needed to be told.
And Severus would have to be the one to do it. And it seemed as though it would happen rather soon.
He would have to tell Lily's son that he had to die. He had to close his eyes for they burned, threatening to water.
The next day was tense between the Slytherins – nobody spoke about last night's event.
Crabbe was seething all through breakfast, he was eating his porridge stoicly and avoided eye contact with everyone. Goyle rolled his thumbs nervously.
Nott and Zabini kept their heads down in between shooting Malfoy glares, and Malfoy himself ate his breakfast quickly and silently, as if scared of confrontation.
The only one who acted normally was Pansy. She was sitting smiling inbetween all of them as if pleased with the discomfort she'd brought upon all her friends.
Daphne, cowardly as ever, said nothing but kept glancing at Pansy as if needing directions.
Tracey knew how humorous their whole situation would look to a bypasser, or someone from one of the other house tables. It looked as though they'd all slept with each other's partners or accidentally killed each other's pets. Then she remembered Pansy actually had killed one of their pets and gone out with her boyfriends then-friend. Ironic.
Tracey didn't mind it though, the silence was better than non stop bullshit.
Pansy hadn't received any sort of punishment for her behaviour in Dark Arts yesterday, most certainly because she was Head Girl and the only Death Eater in school's girlfriend. Her Pureblood privilege helped her out as usual.
Draco was extremely relieved for that, but he was still frustrated with Pansy for acting out, not to mention frightened of what this rebellion would stir in the Carrows or even Crabbe.
Dead certain on maintaining his rather fragile relationship with the Carrows, he decided to be extra polite from now on. He walked into the Great Hall flanked by Crabbe and Goyle for some reason. They still hadn't spoken a word to each other since last night and Draco knew Crabbe was still fuming. Pansy and her gang of tittering girls followed them, all in their uniform skirt they had shortened to absolute minimum by magic. The magic ceiling was dark as usual these days, and the entire hall was gloomy. The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs ate breakfast in silence. Only the Slytherin table was bubbling with conversation.
Both Alecto and Amycus were standing by the entrance, keeping an eye on everyone who entered. He made sure to stride over to them and shake both of their hands albeit with a sort of stiff formality. As did Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy and her friends cast them sideways glances and slid into their seats.
"Morning," Alecto said with a soft leer, but it was Amycus who Draco turned to.
"Slithering back, are we?" jeered Amycus.
"Maintaining apperances, more like it. I will not oppose you in front of anyone again, especially Blood-traitors."
Amycus upper lip was twitching – it looked like he was having a silent battle with himself, whether to scorn Draco further or pretend to forgive him. Finally, it seemed, he chose the latter.
"I'd make sure of it if I were you," he said, mildly threatheningly.
"And I'd make sure not to hit a fellow Death Eater's girlfriend again, if I were you."
"I'm your teacher! Your superior—"
"Teacher, yes," said Draco in a low tone. "Superior – you're not higher than me in rank. I'm as much of a Death Eater as you are."
Amycus sneered. "You're a teenager."
"Exactly. Merely a teenager and of the same rank as you. Meaning the Dark Lord finds me special."
Amycus' jaw clenched and his small dark eyes narrowed. "He did. Remember your place, Draco."
"You're my teacher for a few more weeks until I take my NEWTs and finish Hogwarts. Who cares."
"You step another toe out of line and I make sure you never take those sodding NEWTs. And tell your girlfriend I'll handle her detentions personally. She can start tomorrow night. I'm sure I'll find a fitting job for her."
And with a sneer he left Draco standing there feeling queasy.
"Come on," he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, the former only reluctantly following him to the Slytherin table, where Draco would have to tell Pansy of her detentions.
She was feebly stirring her cup of tea, her pink fluffy Pygmy Puff on her shoulder and he slid into the seat next to her.
"Bad news," he muttered. "Amycus wants you in his office tomorrow for the first of your detentions."
Pansy's eyes widened and she gulped down a mouthful of tea too soon. "What?" she coughed. "What's he going to do to me?"
Draco didn't want to think about that. "Hopefully nothing too bad. I told him not to hurt you again. I think we have a mutual sort of agreement."
"Well, that's encouraging," said Pansy looking anxious.
They were all interrupted by a Howler down the Slytherin table, where Mildred Bulstrode was being dramatically dumped by the screaming letter sent to her from Terrence Higg's younger brother Thomas.
Pansy, Greengrass, Wilkes and Davis all sniggered.
"I didn't even know they were dating!" exclaimed Greengrass.
"She should be lucky she even had a boyfriend, with a face like that" sneered Pansy, who had apparently forgotten all about Amycus.
"Oi!" bellowed Millicent, Mildred's older sister. And when her sister stormed out of the Great Hall, furiously wiping at her eyes, Millicent threw her napkin down and hastily pursued her.
Laughing, and seemingly cheered up, Pansy turned to Draco who was trying to get his toast down. His mouth was dry as usual and he kept glancing at Amycus up at the staff table.
"I remember when we used to fight like that," said Pansy as if they hadn't fought like that merely a few months ago. Draco snorted. "So immature..."
Draco silently agreed, she was still that immature. What did she think she was – thirty? She was still seventeen years old for Merlin's sake.
"But you're such an adult now," she mumbled in what he assumed was a seductive tone, for she began stroking his arm and then his chest. Surprised that she was in the mood now, he put his toast down and frowned at her. Under the table, her hand slowly moved towards his inner thigh. "So grown up..." she said in a low tone and began nibbling on his ear. He rolled his eyes.
"Not here," he said shortly.
He didn't enjoy being affectionate in public, he rarely even held her hand or hug her, and now she was doing this in front of the whole Great Hall.
"Come on, it's fun..." whispered Pansy and moved her hand even further up his thigh. Just as he was fiercely removing her hand to her dismay, a passing voice was heard behind them. It was disguised as a cough, but clearly said "incest".
Draco and Pansy spun around. Dennis Creevey was passing by with a female friend, smirking.
"Excuse me?" said Pansy at once. Crabbe and Goyle turned around as well.
Creevey stopped and called over his shoulder. "You're both always bragging about how Pureblood you are. Well – all Purebloods are related. Maybe you two will be the next Carrows. Nobody really knows if they're brother and sister or secretly married."
Pansy pulled out her wand and Crabbe got up from the table, his mere presence threathening. Draco held down Pansy's arm – the Carrows were watching.
"Don't mind what these little Blood-traitors say, Pans," Draco said shortly. "And you, keep moving, boy," he snapped at Creevey and held up his left arm ostentatiously. "And Crabbe, sit down."
"Why? You're going to show me your little tattoo?"
"I'm guessing that's some sort of Muggle term which I wouldn't know," said Draco coldly, "call it whatever you want - you don't want me to press it. Now keep moving, Creevey."
Creevey looked back at him defiantly. "I'm not scared of you Malfoy."
"Should be!" grunted Crabbe and with a vicious slicing movement of his wand, he cursed him. "Crucio!"
Draco looked away – now Crabbe had ruined another one of his breakfasts. He could hear Creevey fall to the floor writhing in pain behind him and swigged down his pumpkin juice. Crabbe sniggered loudly and Goyle joined in.
"Crabbe!" shouted Pansy reprimandingly. The torture curse was wearing off and Creevey stumbled to his feet. Crabbe lunged at him, pretending to attack him. Creevey backed off.
"Keep walking!" said Crabbe, now starting to follow Creevey down the two tables. Draco's face felt warm. Reluctantly he got up from the table and started walking out the Great Hall. Pansy was running after them too, and Goyle. They caught up with Crabbe as he reached the entrance hall.
"I was handling it!" said Pansy.
"As if!" Crabbe shouted at her. Creevey took this opportunity to make his escape, supported by his female friend. "Besides, I'm workin' on strict orders from the Carrows! I get to Crucio anyone who steps out of line—"
"Need I remind you you're not a Prefect!"
"I don' care, do I! You're too much of a wimp to do anyone!"
Pansy gasped. "I'm Head Girl! Draco's Head Boy! I think we're at perfect liberty to do whatever we want! You just wanted an excuse to put the Cruciatus curse on him! You should listen to Draco like you always have!"
"I don't do Malfoy's bidding no more!" shouted Crabbe.
"Yes you do," said Draco with contempt pulsating through him, now pulling out his mother's wand, pointing it at his former friend. "I'm Head Boy and a Death Eater. I can have you expelled and socially ostrasised. You're nothing, Crabbe. If you ever want to be on the Dark Lord's good side, you keep doing what I tell you."
"Draco," began Goyle unsurely.
"No," snapped Draco, and with a flick of his wand, he told Crabbe, "move! We're going back to the common room, I will not have you behave like this in public."
It was all crumbling around them. How long was this going to last? How long until the whole school knew? It wasn't going to last, how could it? Pansy and Amycus – Draco and Crabbe – it was all at breaking point.
How was he going to survive, how was Pansy going to survive, these last two months of the school year with Crabbe and the Carrows against them?
Couldn't it just be over soon?
"What was that with Malfoy and Crabbe after breakfast?" muttered Daphne to her as they snuck out of the common room that late afternoon. Pansy had persuaded Daphne to come with her, to try and fulfill her new, in her mind, brilliant plan.
"I actually have no idea," said Pansy as they walked past the portrait of Timothy the Timid and a window where the rapidly darkening sky was visible. "I don't think Crabbe likes Draco anymore."
"That's so weird, they've always been friends."
"That doesn't mean they always will," said Pansy impateintly.
"It does for us."
"Well, that's different," smirked Pansy. "You'll never try to take my place."
"Oh, that's what Crabbe's doing?"
"I suppose."
"Are we really going through with this?" asked Daphne unsurely as they hurried up the steps to the third floor.
"Yes, of course!" said Pansy, turning to her. "We need to take matters into our own hands, Daph! We're Slytherins after all. Let's just grab Tracey and go see him before he goes for dinner."
The door of the Arithmancy classroom opened and students bustled out, eager to get to the last meal of the da. They could hear professor Demetrius handing back essays, and Tracey was one of the last people to come out to the corridor. She was looking at the parchment in her hands, not noticing the two girls who stood waiting for her, her ash brown hair laying her face in shadow.
"Come on!" hissed Pansy and Tracey looked up. "We've been waiting for you!"
Tracey looked up and grimaced at them. "What are you two doing here? I'm perfectly capable of walking back to the Great Hall by myself."
"We're not going to the Great Hall," said Pansy sourly and then she teased, "Why so testy? Only got an E on your essay?"
"I got an O, actually," said Tracey coolly but joined them walking down the corridor. "Where are we going then? I'm not sneaking out to get Butterbeer again! Remember how well that went last—"
"Actually," said Pansy, "we're going to put an end to Amycus Carrow."
For a moment, Tracey halted and looked at her in scornful disbelief. "You're an assasin now, Pansy?"
Pansy rolled her eyes. "We're telling a teacher!" she hissed.
"Oh," mocked Tracey, "you're telling the teacher. What a well-thought out plan. And why would you think they'd listen?"
"I thought you wanted a stop to this whole thing!" snapped Pansy.
"If by 'this whole thing' you mean Pureblood supremacy and the torture of innocent kids, yes. But you really think too highly of yourself if you think that just because you're protesting, like those Gryffindors have for a year, they'll suddenly listen and stop. Because you're a Pureblood."
"Do you want to help or not?"
Tracey rolled her eyes. "Let's give it a go."
"Professor Slughorn, please, is there nothing you can do?" said Pansy ten minutes later when they had ambushed the potions master as he was leaving his study, and explained the situation.
"I dont know what you're used to from Severus, miss Parkinson," he said nervously in an attempt at a cold voice, "but I'm nothing more than your head of house! The Carrows are in charge of discipline, and professor Snape is the only one who could do something about it, although I must say I highly doubt he would."
"So you think we should speak to professor Snape?" piped up Daphne.
"Miss Greengrass! There's nothing to do about the situation, so I suggest you leave it alone! No good comes from prodding around these things! Just keep your heads down and do what they tell you. Your NEWTs are coming up and—"
"Isn't this more important than NEWTs?" interjected Tracey.
"I, well—this is none of my business and I do not wish to be involved! You're children! It's not your job to stand up to these people...They've been appointed here and they are not afraid to use violence, as you very well know... I'd advise you all to stay out of their way, give them no reason to harm you..."
"But sir, what they're doing is wrong!" protested Tracey, although she knew this is how he'd react. They wouldn't be taken seriously, they were Slytherins after all.
"I'm doing my very best to protect all of you, as I'm sure the other teachers are as well. But I can't if you act foolish! Stay out of their business!" he said firmly. "That's all the advice I can give. Now, if you excuse me I have a roast pheasant waiting for me with my name on it. Shouldn't you be off to dinner—"
"But, sir—" Pansy began in a whiny sort of tone.
"Enough," he said and stepped out into the dungeon corridor, closing his office door behind him. "That's all I have to say about the matter. I suggest you speak to the Headmaster if you have any more questions!"
And he trodded away and disappeared up the staircase by the end of the corridor.
"Argh!" exclaimed Pansy, stomping her foot angrily.
"I told you we wouldn't be taken seriously," said Tracey and hoisted her school bag further up her shoulder.
"I don't know whether we can trust Snape," said Pansy wisely. "I mean, I want the Carrows gone as much as the next, but I don't know whether Snape would tell the Dark Lord we're being treacherous... What do you think?"
"Yes but... It's not about that," said Daphne. "It's merely about two teachers who aren't doing their job properly. This doesn't have anything to do with He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named."
"We couldn't possibly go to one of the other heads of houses could we?" Pansy inquired, glancing at Tracey unsurely.
"No, definitely not," said Tracet, imagining professor McGonagall's strict and cold face. Neither Professor Flitwick nor Sprout would never help or even believe them either. They were Slytherins.
"They'd probably just think we're spying for the Carrows or Snape or something..."
"Salazar," muttered Daphne gloomily to the stone wall at the other end of the corridor and they made their way through the passage that appeared there. The common room was dark and murky as usual.
"Slughorn never does anything for us," said Pansy. "We might as well be left with no head of house at all."
They joined Zabini who was sitting by himself reading his Ancient Runes textbook in one of the sofas by the large ornate fireplace.
"They expect us to all be big supporters of them and You-Know-Who... So we need to punish the other kids. They're not expecting that from the other houses, are they? They're only set on making us punish them. It's not fair."
"At least they'll have to leave their jobs in a few months," said Zabini jokingly.
"Why is that?" asked Tracey.
"Because haven't you noticed how our Defense teachers never manage to stick around for more than a year? Rumour has it the job's cursed. Keep up, Davis."
"True," pondered Tracey, "but then Alecto will still be able to stay on for Muggle Studies, I haven't noticed it's the same one year thing on that position."
"Either way once we get our NEWTs we're done with this place," said Zabini nonchalantly
"Can't you ever think of anybody else?" they all looked around, surprised to see Daphne piping up uncharacteristically bravely. Pansy thought she was probably annoyed Zabini had addressed Tracey. "My sister will still have a year left."
"Nobody cares about your sister, Greengrass," sneered Zabini.
She looked visibly hurt while the others sniggered. And for the first time she looked at Blaise Zabini without adoration or longing, but a sober discontent, almost resentment.
After dinner that evening, Draco spotted Pansy with her shoulder length brown hair in a ponytail waking across the Transfiguration courtyard with her friends. It was just before curfew so he had to do this before they had to be back in the common room.
"Pansy!" he called out for her and she stopped. She waved her girlfriends away, and came up to him looking questioning.
"Come with me for a second."
"Where have you been? Haven't seen you in ages," said Pansy as she followed him up the marble staircase. "And aren't we supposed to be heading back to the common room? It's nearly curfew – I don't exactly need to get into more trouble with Amycus."
"It won't take long. I just want to show you something."
They reached the seventh floor corridor
"This is Gryffindor's floor," said Pansy disdainfully. "Why are we here?"
"I thought you knew everything," he replied, smirking.
The door appeared on the previously empty wall. "This..." he took her hand and led her inside. "Is the Room of Requirement. This is where I spent all my time last year..."
"Lumos," he muttered, looking around. The room gave him the chills, and almost made him nauseous. he didn't ever want to be back her but he thought Pansy needed to understand, or at least know.
Her face was indecipherable. She looked around slowly at the rows of left items.
"I want you to know..." he said slowly, tearing his eyes off an old tapestry behind a statue of a troll. She looked up at him. "That I was only here... because I needed to. He would've killed me if I hadn't."
"I know that. You've said so... several times." Was he imagining it or was there an impatience in her voice?
"I want you to know," he repeated, facing her now, and still holding her hand, "I hate this place. And the only reason I ignored you last year was because I had to. Not because I wanted to be here."
She looked at him and he had the feeling there were unspoken words between them. Then she nodded.
"I hate this place," he repeated. "But I do not regret doing what I did."
She simply looked at him.
Then he continued, "I want you to know... Nothing will ever keep me from you, except the Dark Lord. And that's not because.. I want to. It's because I have to."
She looked at him for a while, and the reality of what he was saying sunk in. Then she moved closer and put her arms around his neck slowly, and leaned in for a small, loving kiss.
"Tell me you love me again," she demanded.
"You just want me to tell you that so you can feel like you've won some sort of game," he said, rolling his eyes slightly.
She looked up at him without a smirk, without taunt, without even a smile – and said, "No."
He drew a hand through his hair. "Fine. I love you. And you can say it back without 'losing', Pansy. I swallowed my pride for y—"
"I love you too."
Then she had snaked her body close to his before he realised what was happening. And he wrapped his arms tightly around her, breathing into her neck. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising. And he felt no smug satisfaction, no amusement, just pure gratification.
Back in his dormitory a mere ten minutes later, she dragged him to the bed, pushed him onto it and jumped into him, straddling him. He was shocked and aroused at how much she wanted this.
Later, afterwards, he felt like the darkness was about to swallow him.
"It isn't sustainable," he mumbled.
"What?" said Pansy sleepily.
"This situation. I don't think it's going to last much longer. Crabbe will openly disobey me soon."
"Who cares about Crabbe," said Pansy dismissively.
"Maybe the Dark Lord will. If the information about me is good enough."
"He can't say anything. You haven't actually said anything the Dark Lord wouldn't like. Also, when would Crabbe ever meet the Dark Lord to pass this information on?"
"The pressure is... it's just too much... I don't want to finish Hogwarts because then I have to go back to torturing and killing people.. The Dark Lord... It's too much, I can't do it..."
"Shh, don't say that," she assured lovingly. "You felt that way last year too, didn't you, and you got through it..."
"I can't do it..."
"Yes, you can. Keep acting, like you said!"
"I just want it to be over..."
He was even more frightened now, now that he'd told Pansy he loved her – because now he had to be scared for her sake too, not just his own and his parents.
Right now she was one of the few things keeping him sane.
Couldn't he just get Dragon Pox so he wouldn't have to face it all?
Couldn't it just be over soon?
