Disclaimer – Everything you recognise, belongs not to me, but the talented JK. Anything else is more than likely mine.
Authors Note – Another Pansy Draco story, our favourite couple. This is going to get quite dark and our three favourite main characters are going to be shown in quite a different light.
To my wonderful reviewers, thank you for your comments. I'm glad you like the story and there is plenty more to come. Don't think I'll be letting our two favourite characters off the hook anytime soon.
Lara Croft Pansy. Oh the funniness.
Sorry this is shorter than the other chapters. I'll give you an extra-specially long Chapter Five.
Crudelis Ferreus
Chapter Four – Unusual Feelings
"Potter when I get out of here I'm going to rip your enormous head off and mail it up your bloody arse," I shouted hoarsely toward where I imagined the ceiling to be. As of yet no actual light source had been thrown down to me so I couldn't see my bloody hand in front of my bloody face. At what I imagined to be the morning an oversized shirt that I suspected to be Grangers floated down on top of my head and at what I assumed was lunch a buttered roll hit my stomach.
As you can guess I did not touch the shirt. Fancy thinking I would wear something of that Mudbloods.
"Potter let me out of here now," I scream uselessly. I was hoping that perhaps one of his roommates, that Irish one or even that idiot Mudblood would hear me and confront Potter. They were Gryffindors for fucks sake! You expect us Slytherins to be sneaky and mean but not the bloody Gryffindors.
As you can see I've resorted to some rather strong, and un-ladylike, language. But I think even my Mother would allow it in the circumstances.
The circumstances. I am trapped in a dank, smelly hellhole with only Potter and Granger to talk to and no way to get out. How I wished for my connection with my Master now. But it had gone-he had cut it. I could tell. He would never ignore me like this.
"Potter when Draco finds out about-"
Light suddenly fills the cave. The next minute Potter is crouched next to me.
"You don't look to so good," I said gleefully. To be honest that was an understatement. He boasted two glowering black eyes, a gash across his head, a swollen and cut lip and I was happily imagining the bruised state of the rest of his body.
"Draco caught up with you then?" I said, "It looks as if he forget he owned a wand."
Potter nodded.
"And it looks as if you came off worse."
Potter nodded again.
"Well it'll teach you to not-"
"Shut up Parkinson" Grangers voice spat. I rolled my eyes.
"You again, how pleasing."
"We've got our first mission for you," she said shortly.
"How the fucking hell do you expect me to go on a mission for you when I have no equipment, no wand, no clothes-"
"I brought you a shirt," Potter interrupted quietly.
"It was hers," I spat, looking directly at Granger. For once she didn't squirm under my gaze. I think losing Ron hardened her.
Potter sighed and the next minute was unbuttoning his own shirt. I pulled my blanket, my reminder of Draco-it smelt so strongly of him, expensive cologne mixed with soap, closer to myself as Potter walked over. Bending he draped the crisp school shirt over my shoulders. I was too shocked to let my mouth form the sarcastic words that were bubbling inside me. I slid my arms into it and slowly began fasten the buttons. There was something comforting about wearing his shirt, comfort I couldn't resist. He gasped suddenly as he caught sight of my still throbbing hands. Dried blood caked them and the skin was torn and ripped. He looked around and quickly spotted the pool of blood I had left last night.
Bending so he was level with me he took hold of my hands in his own gentle ones. Waving his wand over them he muttered a healing spell. Before my own eyes the skin knitted together again and the blood disappeared. It reminded me so much of that day when Draco had healed my stomach. I choked back tears. Never show weakness.
Potter had shocked me into a complete silence. No one except Draco had ever willingly cared for me, looked after me like this. Of course my parents had but where I came from, Death Eaters and Slytherin, one looked out for oneself. You couldn't really trust anyone, whatever The Dark Lord said.
Blaise would feign caring because he wanted me but he would never give me the shirt off his back if I had none. Unlike Draco, no Death Eater would lie to The Dark Lord to stop him raping me; as long as it wasn't them it was ok. You see that day when Draco walked in on The Dark Lord and I his Father didn't really want to speak with our Master. Draco lied to get him away from me. Had a difficult time covering it up to.
And now here goes Potter giving me the shirt off his back and healing my, his enemies, hands without a single word. And he had saved my life. I had murdered his best friend and he had saved me. He was meant to despise me, and I him. Yet here he was, caring, being nice.
Wearily almost Potter stood up. "I'll bring you something to eat later," he said, floating upward, black hair flying about his head. I stared daggers at him. I had been conditioned to hate him yet here he was staggeringly reminding me of Draco. Strong similarities between them stood out so much. If they weren't divided by the war, could they have been friends?
Potter came back after dinner with the promised food, some books (all novels) and my homework. I had recovered my sarcastic tone of voice thank the Dark Lord.
"Homework Potter?" I exclaimed, "Homework? You think I'm going to do homework when you've got me cooped up in here against my will?"
He looked mortified and for some reason I felt more kindly toward him, "I just thought you might want to, you know, keep up with your studies while you're here," he said.
I nodded and said kindly, yes kindly, "Someone like me mastered the basics years ago Potter"
He half-smiled and sat next to me. "You really love Draco don't you?" It came out of nowhere.
I surprised myself by nodding.
"He really loves you too. He kicked the, um, shit" (it sounded so wrong him swearing in that quiet, kind voice) "out of me before. He was really angry."
"Well you would be wouldn't you if Draco and I had made off with Granger in the middle of the night?" I replied. He looked thoughtful but didn't reply.
"Why do you hate her so much?"
My mouth curved into a grimace, "Because she is everything I have been taught to despise."
"That's it though" he said earnestly, "You've been taught to. Not you want to, not you decided for yourself, but you've been taught. Have you ever sat down and seriously considered both sides of the story?"
I never had. "No I haven't" I replied cautiously, "But I don't need to. Mudbloods pollute our blood, turning it weaker and weaker. We might have married into them because we were dying out, but slowly they are going to kill us anyway."
His eyes clouded over and he stared at the floor, "But Hermione. She's a Muggle. And look how powerful she is."
"She studies Potter. Studies hard because she understands the truth. If she can make herself powerful enough then she thinks she might be able to pass more powerful genes on, Potter. She might be able to prove my belief wrong. But it's impossible. The only way to save our race is to outlaw the Mudbloods."
"But what about Lord Voldemort,"
I shudder. How dare Potter of all people utter his name. But I don't retaliate, seems we are getting along pretty well, Potter and I. You see I don't really despise Potter you know. I should because he was the downfall of my Master. But I don't. Partly because it was Masters fault anyway and partly because if Harry wasn't on the side of good and me on the side of bad, we would have been the same, possibly friends. But I think you might have picked up on that fact somewhere along the line. I am an almost normal girl you know.
So I'm conceited, superior, snobbish, over-confident, evil, bitchy, vain, selfish, supercilious, arrogant, haughty, disdainful and mean but hey, isn't everyone at some time? Nothings ever black and white you know. There are always shades of grey.
"The Dark Lord studied Potter. Much like Granger. Dumbledore is the only truly living example of a fully powerful, pureblooded wizard."
"But he could go about it so differently. There is no need for all these people to die."
It is my turn to nod and agree, "I know. But the needless deaths draw attention to our cause and one day perhaps might help it become fully-acknowledged."
"You know why he tried to kill me don't you?" Potter said almost matter-of-factly.
"Yes and you don't want to," I replied. In truth he didn't, it might make him feel worthless. And in contradiction to all those comments I had made through the years, he wasn't.
He nodded and stood up. His movements were tired; his gaze acceptant, as if this had happened to him all his life. It probably had. I mean who would want to tell him he'd only been created to fight The Dark Lord? Who'd want to tell him that he would die once the Dark Lord had been defeated in the battle that would save all wizards and condemn all Mudbloods and Muggles? Even Harry wouldn't be able to handle it.
"Anything else you need before I go?" he asked, not looking at me.
"Another blanket," I demanded, "And perhaps some light?"
He nodded and floated on up out of my prison. A few moments later he floated back down, handed me a blanket and lantern silently and then floated back up.
I think we'd both given the other a lot to dwell on that night.
It was Granger who woke me that night. Silently she made her way toward me and silently she held out her wand. I jumped up, dived toward her but crashed headlong into a wave of energy, pulsating from her wand. I was up as quickly as I had fallen, my training kicking in, but no sooner was I up than this wave of power threw me back down again. She moved toward above me, and smiling manically bound my hands and legs with rope. She encircled my body teasingly, choosing her placed to strike.
She chose a swift kick to the stomach, not enough to make me cry out in pain but enough to make me double over. Don't forget I've had torture training in both magical and non-magical ways. Running over me with one of those Muggle contraptions, lorries I think there called, wouldn't get me to spill any beans.
But following it was another and then another. Then she grabbed at my hair, pulling chunks of my long, beautiful silky hair, my crowning glory out. I tried to bite her, to get at her wrists but I couldn't reach. This was the moment I felt like crying, the moment as she lay out all those huge clumps of my perfect hair in front of me.
Then she kicked me again, this time aiming for my throat, aiming to kill. But I rolled away and rolled clumsily to my feet. I had to get in at least one hit. I jumped up and down on the spot, pretending I was trying to keep my balance. One more step and there. I bounced upward, kicking my legs toward her. My feet hit her in the chest and she went sprawling across the room as I landed hard on my back. The wind knocked out of me I could only wait for her next blow. It never came.
When I finally looked up, she had gone.
Potter didn't come to untie me until after lunch. I nearly went for his throat but he'd actually listened to my pleas for no more buttered rolls and brought me fruit, two apples, two oranges and some slices of melon.
"Thanks," I said, snatching the food off him.
"Sorry," he muttered, "I never thought she would do something like this," he eyed a clump of hair on the ground. "What happened?"
"Well she came in and we had a picnic and traded girly secrets," I said sarcastically.
"Yeah that's exactly what it looks like," he replied.
"Bravo with the sarcasm Potter!" I thought.
"She woke me up, used some nifty power shield thing on me so I couldn't get at her, tied me up, tried to beat the crap out of me, pulled all my hair out," (my voice fell at that last one) "kicked me again, tried to kill me then ran off when I beat her down"
"You gave her a pretty good beating for someone tied up," he commented, "Her chests all bruised."
"Why have you been looking at her chest?" I said suggestively, raising an eyebrow. He blushed crimson.
"Got a thing for her have you? You two getting down and dirty?" I grinned at the scandalised look on his face, "Aw don't worry about it Potter. You had to get down and dirty with someone at some time. People will start talking"
"You killed the only girl I ever wanted to get 'down and dirty' with." he replied emotionlessly. There was an uncomfortable silence. For once I didn't have a witty comeback.
"I didn't mean to," I replied.
"I bet you'll say that about Ron too."
"It was him or me, Potter. Him or me."
"And did the best man win?" he said acidly. I was surprised at the sudden outburst of emotion.
"What do you think?" I replied.
"Oh I think the best man won," he replied angrily, "The best one at lying and cheating and murder, and the kindest, most loyal and decent man lost. So what do you think?"
With that he angrily pulled himself to his feet and drifted off toward the ceiling. My eyes followed him and I winced when he slammed the trunk lid shut.
I didn't feel bad, I didn't.
What the hell had Potter done to me? In a day he had actually forced me to feel remorse. Remorse for the people I had murdered. Not the nameless guards that had always fell to my Cruciatus Curse, but the Cho Changs, Ron Weasleys and Ginny Weasleys, the people I had known.
And startlingly I suddenly saw it as if it was staring me in the face. I wanted to be normal. I didn't want to fight for The Dark Lord. Equally I didn't want to fight for Dumbledore and Potter either. I wanted to be me, to get married to Draco, to have children, to have a normal job.
And as much as I loved spying, it wasn't what I wanted anymore.
Authors Second Note – I would really appreciate reviews for this chapter, as I'm not sure I like it. I've posted it anyway but I'm just not sure about it. Please review thanks!
