A/N: Sorry I didn't update sooner - have only been out of hospital four days or so and I've got a lot to cope with so despite being stuck in bed, writing hasn't been too high up the list of priorities. Thanks for the reviews, enjoy this and Merry Christmas.

Draco groaned and held his head in his hands, it was pounding, he hadn't stopped drinking since Pansy had broken up with him. It just didn't make sense, there were some thing's in life that were constant. Take for instance, the fact that the Ministry of Magic were pricks, or that Chudley Cannons didn't win matches, and that Pansy Parkinson loved him, Draco Malfoy. And she didn't fuck idiots like Marcus Flint.

That little piece of delightful news had resulted in a torrent binge the like of which Aristid Parkinson would have been proud of – Narcissa and Blaise had found him face down in the middle of Knockturn Alley screaming about bat droppings screwing his girlfriend. Smooth, way to raise your social standing Draco. Luckily for him, and his mother, it had been 4am at that point and Wednesday night at that time, the side street was hardly buzzing.

He still couldn't quite understand why Pansy had ended it, after all – it wasn't like he was cheating on her. Quite the opposite, they saw each other almost every night. But he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her for a few weeks now and his concern for her was most surprising. Considering the state she'd been in last time he'd seen her, she'd probably stopped eating completely and disintegrated into the ground or at the very least was holed up in her bedroom taking so many drugs she wouldn't be able to tell her hand from her foot. But a few visits to her home to see Aristid for drugs had dispelled that theory.

Blaise divulged that Pansy had gone "away" but not many people knew where and frankly, Draco was pissed off. She was his betrothed and given that she had slept with Flint, she was probably shacking up with a Hufflepuff by now.

He reached into his desk drawer for the handy bottle of firewhisky that resided there and had just unscrewed the lid when Blaise flung open his door and stood dramatically in the entrance looking as if he owned the world.

"What?" Draco grunted and swallowed some of the drink to quench his thirst.

"Ah, you wouldn't be saying that young man if you knew what I knew?"

"Oh?" A slightly more interested grunt.

"Pansy…"

"Come in, sit down, what can I get you?"

Blaise chuckled, the man was so in love it hurt, if only he would fucking realise it and start making an effort. "Draco, if you want to get laid that badly…"

"It's not about the sex." He frowned. Now that was news to him, when had he realised that? "I just don't like my betrothed whoring herself out like some…some…common whore." He faltered and slouched back in his chair, resting his feet on the desk. "Well?"

"She's gone to Samson."

"Samson, but she never wanted to go there?"

"Correction, you never wanted to go there."

"She actually…she said she didn't want to go there because I didn't want to go there."

"Yeah, I was there last night and she seemed quite happy, well as happy as a woman who's trying to live without the love of her life can be."

"I am not the love of Pansy's life. We just…work well together."

"Hmmm." Blaise rolled his eyes. If Draco could just see beyond the alcohol clouded fog he lived in for once… "Anyway, she's there, she's depressed. Trying not to show it but she is."

"And what exactly, Mr Zabini, am I supposed to do about that?"

Blaise threw Draco an incredulous look which was returned with an innocent shrug, Blaise let his head fall onto the desk and groaned in desperation. No wonder Pansy dumped him, he was impossible. And emotionally constipated.

Pansy blinked a few times, positive that the sand had not been green when she had arrived at the beach a few hours before. The bonfire that had been lit was dying down and at any rate, the flames confused her – the way they moved, it was too much for her drugged brain to comprehend. She sank down onto the sand and pinched her nose which she could no longer feel, but then she could barely feel her limbs either for that matter.

Feeling light as a feather, but increasingly weighed down – the sensation was frightening, a large gust of wind blew across the bay and Pansy keeled over. The dealer had said the drug was strong…no kidding. She giggled like the schoolgirl she had been and suddenly images of dancing with Draco at the Yule Ball filled her head.

Draco…she hammered her head a few times against the sand trying to relieve her brain of him and gasped slightly in shock as she felt herself strike a rock, there was no pain but she could feel the blood trickle down the side of her face, clouding her already hazy vision. "Oh." She gasped and sat up again but couldn't hold herself there for long and her bloodied cheek hit the sand once more.

With one eye she looked across the beach, her skewed vision managed to assess that there was no one else left there and her distorted brain struggled to process the information. After about thirty minutes of drawing patterns in the sand something clicked. Blood was beginning to pool by her head. She needed help.

Loretta Parkinson was just finishing her novel by the soft firelight of her drawing room, enjoying a nice warm cup of tea garnished with gillywater when she was disturbed by a loud crack and the appearance of her daughter, bloodied and high, at her feet.

Loretta dropped to her knees and grasped Pansy. "Oh, Pansy you fool, you absolute fool…look what you've become…" With a snap of her fingers a house elf had appeared. "I need some fresh towels, warm water, cold water, and some lemon juice. And call the family healer please."

"Is Miss Pansy ill?"

Loretta glanced at her daughter, "no, but she needs help." As the elf vanished to acquire what her mistress had ordered, Loretta placed a pillow under her daughter's head and was using a handkerchief to stem the flow of blood from the gash by her eyebrow. When the elf returned she quickly forced Pansy to swallow the lemon juice – from experience she knew it was a sure fire way to counter most wizarding drugs, presuming that was what she had taken. With the aid of the elf she cleansed the wound and the healer found them pressing a towel to the wound, Pansy now unconscious and wrapped in her mothers robe.

"Drugs?" The healer knew the Parkinson children well enough.

"I presume so. She was on Samson, I haven't seen her in over a week…I fear…yes, drugs, all the time, I've seen her sinking further into this hole of drugs and alcohol. She's not as strong as her brothers, they can control their use. But she doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep, she barely leaves the house except for parties…" Loretta was half sobbing as the healer dealt with the wound.

A while later he helped Loretta lay Pansy gently on her bed. "She's lost a lot of blood, Loretta. She needs rest, no alcohol, no drugs, no visitors…and she needs to eat. She's dangerously thin." He surveyed Pansy's delicate frame and frowned. "I'll pop round tomorrow afternoon to see how she's doing; if you need anything contact me straight away."

"Of course. And thank you."

"Not a problem." He slipped out leaving Loretta sat by her daughter's bedside, lovingly brushing the hair from her face with her hand.

"Oh why Pansy…why do you do this to yourself? Do you think that Draco will love you more?" Loretta knew enough to know that ultimately the relationship was the cause of her daughter's problems. But it was impossible to see why; any fool could see that Draco and Pansy loved each other. Except the two parties concerned. It was hopeless.