Let the Darkness Become You
Chapter Four
For my whole life I have had lesson after lesson drilled into my head. Idea followed by idea that was carefully crafted into my own philosophies. The sudden freedom of school became a large culture shock to me as I was forced, day after day, to make my own decisions. It was to be the making of me, or so I was informed.
However, there were times when too much freedom was unconventional. Times when, as a Parkinson, I must step down and yield to houses that were more powerful than my own. A struggle, since I was not used to giving up the fight in favor of better benefits. I preferred to bargain my way around, to manipulate others to my side.
But if I ever did get too carried away there was always dear, dependable Zella there to set me down the right path once more...
I scowled over at the table of laughing third year Gryffindors darkly, but as I was a first year my expression carried little weight. I was shocked that Madam Pince would allow them to be so loud, but then again they were Gryffindors. Teachers always let the Gryffindors break the rules, while it was most commonly my own house that got penalized.
I watched as Zella entered the library, surprisingly alone, and smiled as she looked around, choosing to walk towards my isolated table in the corner.
"Homework?" she asked as she took a seat.
"Dark Arts," I replied.
She nodded absently, obviously not having come here to talk to me about school.
"I just left the common room to hear Draco Malfoy complain that you were a rude, vindictive, little bitch," she informed me unceremoniously.
I felt my face darken angrily at her words. The situation between Draco and myself had actually worsened since our mutual agreement over the past summer. We had taken to fighting a lot in the common room and I assumed that it had to do with our maturity levels. I had always heard that girls mature faster than boys.
"He wouldn't shut it about Potter's bloody position on the Quidditch Team," I replied defensively. "That happened in September, it's now December!"
I sighed in frustration. For some reason every thing that Draco did could ride my last nerve. The way he was always trying to look and act older than he was. His false, obviously rehearsed, lines and annoying habit at snapping back with surprisingly good, cutting remarks. He just drove me crazy!
Zella held the faint edges of a smirk on her face as she said, "He's a Malfoy."
As if that was enough explanation!
"He's a spoiled rich little brat who didn't get paddled nearly enough growing up!"
It was a weak retort and I knew it. None of us had been paddled growing up- there were other methods for such discipline among our families and an heir would never be paddled.
My sister's expression suddenly became serious. "You need to be nicer to him," she scolded me. "He will one day have strong ties. Our family is powerful, but no one messes with the Malfoys."
I understood her meaning; building and acquiring allies was something we started even at my age. I nodded, the words of Zella, my older sibling, carried all the weight they would have if Mother or Father had said them.
"What do you think of the Malfoy boy Pansy?"
It was all I could do not to stare at my Mother in shock as we moved among the crowds of wizard and witches that had come to our annual Christmas Ball. Thankfully she didn't notice my slip in composure as she smiled and waved to those nearest us.
I looked around me, wondering what had brought up the subject before spying Draco dancing with someone on the dance floor, the golden chandeliers above casting light upon his blonde hair. I hadn't known he was here.
"I know of him," I answered, "and have spoken to him throughout the school year. I can't say that my impression has been a good one."
Mother smirked, raising an elegant brow. "Oh? How so?"
I adjust the skirts of my blue dress robes purposefully, feeling uncomfortable with the question. Mother's eyes pierced through me, forcing me to answer.
"He complains," I began, "he's loud, rude, tactless and has no consideration whatsoever."
Her husky laugh seemed almost a purr. "He is a boy still. It will change."
I froze in midstep. If it had been me in Draco's shoes, age would have been no excuse for my behavior.
"Lucius does favor him," she added, as if to herself.
I nodded, that would definitely explain a lot.
Her questions bothered me and made me curious, but I did not voice such thoughts. I never questioned my parents.
"Run along now Pansy," she said, eyes drifting to a gathering of her personal friends. "Dance a little."
I curtsied obediently but she hardly noticed as she walked forward to leave me in her wake. To her I was merely an object whose value had not yet been determined.
Wanting to avoid Draco I veered towards where I had last seen Daphne with her parents. A firm hand on my arm stopped me before I got far. Whirling around, a sharp retort upon my tongue, I suddenly frowned at the man before me.
Neil's eyes glinted at me in amusement; he loved to bring out the worst in me. It had been a disappointment to discover he had managed to make it to the ball after all.
"A dance, little sister?" he questioned, gesturing towards the dance floor as a new waltz was struck up.
Damn protocol!
Zella smiled at us as he led me towards the centre. He really wasn't a bad dancer; I just couldn't feel comfortable around him.
"You don't like me," he said after we'd been dancing a few moments.
I smiled at him. "I don't?"
His own smile mirrored my own in its almost mechanical detachedness. "No you don't. Your reluctance to warm up to me worries your sister."
Good, I thought snidely. But aloud I simply uttered a proper apology.
"You are just making her nervous about the marriage," he insisted, moving gracefully to twirl me about.
When we were face to face again I looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "The wedding won't be for another year," I pointed out. "She has time to think."
I barely managed to keep the shiver from jolting down my back as his expression turned dark. "She doesn't need to think about it and you don't need to make her worried. We will be married."
I was tired of having to act polite. "Unfortunately," I muttered, wincing as his grip tightened.
"I get what I want Pansy," he drawled in my ear. "Understand?"
I nodded as the dance ended, tears of pain clouding my gaze. I understood perfectly. Neil Lestrange was a dangerous man and he would not let anyone get in the way of his ambition. It was a trait that I feared more than I had ever feared anything in my life.
He smiled down at me, expression completely different from a second ago.
"Thanks for the dance Sis," he whispered, giving me a peck on the cheek.
I watched with dread as he returned to Zella's side at a nearby table, dark eyes readable even from here as he looked down on her tenderly. Those eyes were easily readable as the possessive gaze of one who controlled every aspect of his life, including others.
I shivered. Neil Lestrange was indeed a very dangerous man.
I returned to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays to find things about the same as they were when I left. Millicent was still away on extended holiday in Rome and the others were full of tales of their Christmas. And Draco was still complaining... as usual.
I found it increasingly difficult not to say anything to him anymore, as I was under Zella's strict command to do. Instead I focused all my energy on ignoring him and he seemed amused at my efforts.
"Cat got your tongue, Parkinson?" he inquired one day in Transfiguration. He seated himself at my table without so much as a by-your-leave.
I smiled at him, but it was a frosty smile. One that carried a look of daggers with it.
He remained unperturbed, gray eyes glinting as he leaned forward out of his lounging position to put his face near to my own.
"Or are you too..." he gave a delicate pause, "intimidated to speak in the presence of one so attractive as myself? Or could it be that you have finally taken up on those skills you were lacking all these years?" He took on a quoting, lecturing tone. "Women are to be seen not heard, and only used for the purpose to please their male companions who so desire it."
"Don't flatter yourself," I muttered, busying myself with opening books and preparing for the lesson.
"Truth hurts doesn't it?" he whispered in my ear.
I was surprised that those near to us did not hear my teeth grinding as I clenched my jaw angrily. He waited, relishing my reaction, although only those truly trained in our ways could have perceived a reaction; to others my expression had not changed.
"You would know all about pleasing the male companions of Slytherin wouldn't you?" I retorted back in a sweet honeyed voice, gesturing towards Crabbe and Goyle.
It was going far, almost too far to go with a Malfoy. Enough so that I recognized and defied the dire situation I was currently placing myself in.
His eyes widened in shock, expression taunt and then he laughed!
I stared at him dumbly.
As Professor McGonagall entered the room he winked - actually winked - and whispered, "Wouldn't you like to know?"
It was then that I discovered that Draco enjoyed baiting me, hoping to stir me to produce sarcastic and flippant responses. Call it a sparring of words if you will.
I smirked as I turned towards the front of the classroom. He had no idea what he was in for.
"May I sit here?"
I looked up at Blaise Zabini in surprise before moving aside to allow him room at the table. I smiled at him hesitantly.
There was still not a lot known about the "new boy", as we had so often taken to calling him. We later learned that he was from a very prestigious and wealthy pureblooded family in Italy and had transferred here for the better curriculum Hogwarts offered other than the small private school he had been at. The fact that he was wealthy and revered had immediately placed him in the acceptable category of typical Slytherins. It remained to be seen exactly where he would go within our circle however.
"Quiet family," Draco had told me one night while studying. "Neutral to our ways, not for or against."
Which simply meant that the Zabinis were not for Voldemort; nor did they oppose him. It was something to be admired that they had remained neutral to such a decision so long. Those with wealth and power did not stay that way often. It made me wonder as to what kind of man his father was. But Blaise was still a Slytherin, and that was enough for the rest of us.
He didn't talk much during Potions but worked quietly over his cauldron. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he was as accomplished at Potions as myself.
"We will be partnering up for your projects on the Windroot Mixture," Professor Snape informed us towards the end of the lesson as he handed out the bottled vials of the potion.
The project would require us to analyze all the ingredients in the liquid with its precise measurements. I could hardly wait to get my hands on it. Potions was a strange obsession of mine.
I looked towards Millicent to affirm our partnering for the project before remembering that she had come down with Snivellitis over holiday (some strange snivelling syndrome that impaired speech as well as breathing). Tracey and Daphne had already partnered up, talking quietly.
My mouth pursed into a petulant frown, hands on hips. Nott and Malfoy, Crabbe and Vincent...
I sneered at the nearby Gryffindors as Longbottom dropped his vial, shattering glass everywhere as the potion seeped through the cracks of slate covering the dungeon floor. I would rather die than partner up with one of them.
A voice cleared itself beside me and I looked at Blaise in surprise. He watched me, unsure before opening his mouth.
"I'm not going to do all the work," I instantly interrupted him, turning to clean our area as the bell rang.
"And if you don't do your share of the work I'll be forced to hex you. I happen to know a nasty Conjunctivitis Curse."
I smiled up at him in invitation to share the joke. He just blinked in surprise, as being an outcast among us - somewhat - I suspected he wasn't used to being included.
He grinned, an attractive sight on his rugged face. "Fine," he said in a deep pleasing voice, "doesn't look like I get much say."
I nodded. "You don't," I informed him.
His laughter followed me out the door as we made our way to our next class.
It was amazing how fast my first year at Hogwarts passed. Before I knew it I was on a train for home, my friends chatting excitedly around me. Rumours had been flying everywhere about Potter's supposed defeat of the Dark Lord at school. I myself found it hard to believe that a first year could defeat the greatest wizard to be known since Salazar or even Merlin! Apparently so did the others.
"It wasn't right of Dumbledore to give him all those points," Daphne pouted. "We earned ours fair and square!"
Theodore nodded his agreement. "Damn teachers are always favoring him though."
I looked towards Draco expecting him to make some snide comment. He never passed up a dig towards Potter. The blonde remained looking silently out the window however, his expression stony. He was strangely distant throughout the whole ride home.
I stopped him with a hand on his arm once we reached Platform Nine and Three Quarters; we remained the only two left in the compartment.
"Are you alright?" I asked, looking up at him in question.
"Fine," he snapped. "Just bloody brilliant!"
My brows drew together in confusion, causing him to sigh. "Drop it Parkinson," he whispered, head bowed. "I don't want to talk about it."
I nodded, stepping away to allow him to walk past me. It wasn't my place to pester him.
He paused in his passage to kiss me briefly on the cheek, lips soft against my skin. "Thanks Pansy," he said softly, before leaving me by myself, mouth dropped open in shock. (Do you think a tad OOC? I was thinking of maybe changing it to a gratified smile, or a gentle squeeze of hand. What do you think?)
Did I just hear a thank you from a Malfoy?