Chapter Seven

Pansy

Pansy shrieked and ducked just in time for the silver light to shoot over her head. If she'd have had time, she would have fired a hex back over her shoulder, but whichever twin was on her heels was not backing down. If she stopped running to cast back, she'd be hit.

Elsewhere in the dungeons, she heard Carrow let out a shriek. In the opposite direction, Draco was yelling. All around was hysterical laughter. Everything was in pure chaos.

Graham had been adamant that the twins were just messing with her about the Hunt. He'd ignored her protests to a Slytherin prefect meeting and so, when all six of them were wandering the dungeons to learn the route for their rounds, they were ambushed.

Pansy didn't even know where the hexes had come from. It seemed like every direction. All she knew is that there were a bunch of lights shooting from everywhere and the Slytherin prefects had scattered like rats. All around was laughter and shrieking while she wound deeper and deeper into the dungeons.

As she ran, the noises from behind grew more quiet and the corridors ahead darker. Eventually all she could hear was her own heavy breathing, the laughter of the twin behind her, and their footsteps.

"This is horribly childish," she yelled, not bothering to turn around. Another light breezed past her shoulder.

"Should've taken my deal," he called out.

Then she was hit. Pansy's legs locked together and she went sprawling face first into the jagged stone floor. As her hands were preoccupied trying to catch herself, her wand went tumbling, rolling out of reach.

"Points for me," the twin said and she could hear that he slowed now that she was down. Pansy gave an irritated grunt and threw her arms out in front of her, trying to drag herself to her abandoned wand.

Each of his footsteps raised a new level of dread and she let out a groan when his feet came into view.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, taking the moment to step on her outstretched fingers. Not with his full weight, though – just enough to get the point across that he was the one in power.

"Get off me, you fucking weasel," she spat through clenched teeth.

He never got a chance to reply. There was a glass-shattering meow and he cursed. The next thing Pansy knew, he'd grabbed her wand, then she was being hoisted up in the air and slung over his shoulder.

"Let me down this instant," she screamed, trying to wriggle free.

"Shut up," he demanded. Pansy felt him throw something and then everything in the corridor went pitch black.

"Put me down."

It was so dark that she couldn't tell if her eyes were open or not. Weasley seemed to know where he was going, though, his quick steps causing his shoulder to dig into her stomach.

"Ow, you're hurting me, you git," she whined, glad to see the black smoke was beginning to clear the farther he walked. For a moment she thought she was falling, but Weasley was letting her down. Graham would have been furious to see the split-second when that Weasley git's hand brushed over her backside. It was over as quickly as it started and then she was standing on her locked legs, back leaning against a stone wall.

"You touch my arse ever again and I will knock your teeth out," she spat. Weasley looked amused, but gave his wand a quick flick and then she had the unpleasant sensation of her tongue being stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"That's better," he muttered, then grew still. She did, as well, listening for that stupid Mrs. Norris in hopes that she'd be saved. They were deep enough into the dungeons that she couldn't hear the rest of the Hunt going on, but after a moment she did hear the ragged wheezing that was distinct of Filch. Despite her tongue being stuck, she let out a muffled scream, hoping to alert the caretaker.

"Bloody hell," Weasley muttered, pushing his hand over her mouth to further muffle the sound. "Shut up," he said under his breath. "Shut up or I'll make you worth double points."

At that Pansy sobered. The Hunt was insane enough being the next to lowest point worth. If she doubled, she'd be on par with Graham.

"Who's there?" Filch called out. The corridor was beginning to clear and she could see now that the two of them were tucked away in a side corridor.

Pansy didn't dare make a peep and make herself a bigger target than she already was. There was a long moment when Weasley studied her, hand still clamped over her mouth, before he was sure he trusted her enough to release his hand.

There was another scream from somewhere farther away and Pansy could hear Filch take off in a hurried gait, muttering either to himself or that damn cat of his. The two of them stood still as stone until the caretaker's labored breathing was no longer heard.

"Now, where were we?" the twin said with that wicked smile. Something uncomfortable clenched in Pansy's stomach, but all she could manage was a sigh since she couldn't exactly speak. She refused to look at him, instead clenching both teeth and eyes in anticipation of the impact of whatever hex he was going to get her with.

"Maybe not," he said and she opened her eyes with unease to see the same wickedness etched on his face as before. "I'll let you off the hook tonight since you played nice."

Played nice? Since when was any of this Hunt thing nice? If she could have, she would have told him as much, but Weasley threw her a wink as he twirled her wand between his fingers and turned on his heel, leaving her with two immobile legs and no speech.

"See you in class," he called over his shoulder, then was gone around a corner.

That's it. She was going to murder him.

You do not take someone's wand! That's…that's just something you don't do!

Pansy let out a scream of frustration, but the sound was muffled and she knew it didn't carry very far.

If she was feeling murderous when he left her, then she was bordering maniacal by the time Graham stumbled upon her late that evening.

"I don't understand how you could just let him take your wand," he chided as they made their way back through the dark dungeons. Besides a stiff back, she had to admit her bit of the Hunt wasn't too bad. Especially looking at Graham, who was missing an eyebrow. Being isolated with the one Weasley probably kept her out of the worst of it. The thought made her mind wander to his hand on her backside for that quick moment and she clenched her teeth. Prick.

Pansy made the wise move of not answering Graham. It was only the second day of the school year and already those Weasley gits had made this the worst year yet. She was stuck next to one all year for Herbology, she had to deal with this Hunt crap, and they'd had her and Graham at odds since the night before.

"What is that all over your arm?" Graham demanded. "You look like a heathen. For Merlin's sake, use parchment for notes, not your arm. I can't have people saying I've got a sloppy girlfriend."

Pansy nearly cursed herself, having lifted her arm to tuck some loose hair behind her ear, forgetting one of those gits had doodled on her during Herbology.

"It wasn't me," she said in annoyance. "The Weasley twins strike again."

Graham stopped and arched the one brow he had left. "Your arms were free. What did you do, just let them write all over you?"

Pansy then stopped and gave a loud sigh. "No, Graham, one of them did it in class today."

"In class?"

"In Herbology."

Did he not understand she was already on edge? It was like he was trying to pick a fight.

"What, so now you're hanging out with the Weasley's in class? You'll be eating with them, too, soon enough."

"Shut up."

Graham's expression moved from irritated to downright frightening. "Let me see your arm," he said, grabbing her wrist and jerking it toward him.

"Stop it!" she protested, but he wrenched back her sleeve and studied the damage. There were several rude words all over her arm, an extremely crude male part, and the drawing of Graham with the unibrow.

Pansy knew when he saw the drawing of him. His fingers dug into her wrist and he grew deathly silent.

"And you walked around like this all day? What, having a laugh?" he said, voice growing in ferocity.

Pansy wasn't sure what to say, her mouth opening and closing several times like a fish. At her silence, he dug his fingers into her skin even harder and turned on his heel, dragging her behind. Dread flooded her stomach. The last time he'd looked so mad was when he'd hurt her wrist the year before.