.
Part One | Strike the Match
Four. Needed Them, Always
"Shit Pans, you were serious?" Daphne turned the small badge over and over in her perfectly manicured hands. "Head Girl, I always thought Granger-"
"Yeah, me too," Pansy interrupted, watching the badge weave through her best friend's fingers. "But apparently there's new management or something who know my parents, and," she rolled her eyes, "my dad asked them if I could be Head Girl." The slight raise of Daphne's eyebrows didn't go unnoticed. "Yes, I know, it's…" trailing off, she shot Daphne a sideways glance.
"-kind of lame," Daphne offered, attempting, albeit not very well, to conceal her blatant desire to laugh. She handed the badge back and tucked a long blonde strand behind one ear before examining her dark purple painted fingernails, bringing her hands together side by side, her fingers stretched out, she turned her hands over, waving them in front of Pansy's face. "What do you think of this colour?"
"Lame? What the fuck is lame?" Pansy demanded, far more aghast than she really ought to be, ignoring the presented question.
"It's what they say in America when something is really, really uncool. You know, like your best friend getting Head Girl due to her dad knowing someone. Seriously, is this too dark on me? In America, they go for manicures like we go for haircuts."
Daphne, I swear to fuck if you mention what they say, do, or how they fucking shit in America once more I'm going to hex you.
"Do they? That's fascinating," Pansy retorted, tartly.
"You know, in America, they are nowhere near as sarcastic."
"Is that so?" Daphne had returned from her big American holiday two days previous, declaring that her destination was, "Totally, like, the greatest place in the world."
The pair were sitting outside a Muggle restaurant, an upmarket, overpriced Italian place in Soho. Daphne had wanted to dine 'al fresco' and Pansy had wanted pizza - an easy compromise. At Daphne's insistence, along with her outlandish flirting with their waiter, a ploy Pansy was certain was solely so they could avoid getting asked for ID, the duo were sipping cocktails.
"You know," Daphne began, ignoring the last sarcastic reply that Pansy had retorted, "this means we won't sleep in the same dorm anymore? You know you're basically abandoning-" she put a lot of emphasis on the word, "-me and Mills?"
"Apparently, things are going to be different for me this year, according to the she-hag anyway."
Daphne snorted. "'She-hag'? That's lovely, definitely my new favourite. It paints an interesting mental image." Daphne paused, raising her glass as she took a long drink. "Mmm, this is almost as nice as its name," the blonde declared, placing her tall glass which contained something called 'Sex-On-The-Beach' back on the table. She continued, "'Different'? Good different, like you can now eat fifty chocolate frogs a day and not ever have a fat arse? Or bad different, like you suddenly develop a deathly allergy to all forms of eye makeup?"
Pansy was nibbling on one of the pizza crusts that remained on her plate. "Good, but probably not quite 'fifty chocolate frogs' good." Putting the crust down, her throat suddenly dry, Pansy sighed, "I have to tell you something, Daph."
Daphne, who had returned her attention back towards her cocktail, looked up. "Okay, what's up?" 'What's up?' Ugh, Daphne, stop it! Pansy looked down, unable to meet Daphne's eyes. She picked up the pizza crust once more and watched her hands rotate it, though the crust was the last thing from Pansy's mind. What she was seeing, in some scary part of her mind that Pansy wished she could vacate, was her best friend of nearly eight years loudly telling Pansy to go fuck herself before dramatically storming off: because Daphne did most things dramatically. In fact, Daphne's dramatic nature had reached legendary status within Slytherin. Daphne Drama, a term Blaise had coined a few years prior after Daphne had almost cried in potions when Neville Longbottom had accidentally squirted a dollop of bubotuber pus in the blonde's face, was a commonly used descriptor within their House.
Pansy's favourite Daphne Drama, however, she thought with a soft small smile, had taken place in Fifth Year, when a minute, grey owl - clearly lost, had found its way into the Hogwarts dungeons and somehow managed to zoom into the Slytherin common room. For several moments, the bird dashed above their heads in no discernable pattern, whilst hooting dismally. Finally, after exhausting its way around the entirety of the ceiling multiple times over, the owl emptied its bowels rather spectacularly. Unfortunately for Daphne, she found herself to be standing directly under the still speeding owl's bottom at the point it defecated. Looking back, Pansy thought maybe she would have reacted similarly had an owl taken a shit on her head.
"HE-LLOOOOOO! Do I need to pour the rest of my drink over you? Because I really don't want to do that, it's yummy." Pansy eyed Daphne warily, trying to ignore the anxiety creeping into the pit of her stomach.
"You might hate me," Pansy responded curtly, snapping out of her reminiscing.
"I already hate you for leaving me to become Head Girl. A bit more hate probably won't make a lot of difference." Pansy took a deep breath. I love you, Daphne Greengrass, you beautiful bitch.
"I think my dad is hanging out with some really bad people."
"The old minister bad, or Draco's dad bad?"
Pansy dropped her gaze to the table once more. Barely more than a whisper, her mouth still impossibly dry, she managed to croak, "Draco's dad."
"Shit, you sure?" Daphne's eyes dropped to a frown.
"Do you remember last year, at that weird party Draco's mum and dad threw - when we met Rabastan Lestrange?"
"Yeah, Gods that was awful. He was such a perv. I wish they'd throw him back in Azkaban."
"Not likely."
Pansy would remember the night her and Daphne, along with Blaise, Millicent, Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle were summoned to Malfoy Manor as though it were only a few days prior, probably for the rest of her life. The Garden Gathering, as Narcissa had penned the evening, had been an incredibly uncomfortable affair. The seven classmates had been introduced, by an even more uncomfortable Draco, to a who's who of Wizarding Britain's most notorious criminals. Pansy hadn't needed many of the vocalised introductions at all, having recognised a number of the 'guests' from various wanted posters the year before.
Rabastan Lestrange had stayed by the girls' side far longer than either of them had either anticipated nor wanted. His voice, possibly once charming, now sounded hideously gravelly, and gave her chills at the memory of it.
A wide-eyed, frantic-looking Freyja Greengrass had been the source of their rescue, feigning illness and pulled her eldest daughter and Pansy hurriedly towards the floo.
"If my mum hadn't dragged us home, he'd have stayed with us all night," Daphne said, wrinkling her nose at the memory of Rabastan.
"I'm glad your mum did drag us home."
"Me too." Daphne was watching Pansy intently, her usual aloof attitude seemingly having been cast aside.
"Well-" Pansy began, forcing the conversation to return to the present, "-I heard him, Rabastan, in my house the other night. He and my dad were talking about a family; I-I think Rabastan killed them. They spoke of some arrangement they'd made, and a meeting... Daph, I think it was a-"
"-Death Eater meeting," Daphne whispered, her voice rushed as her right hand shot over her mouth.
Pansy didn't answer. It hadn't been a question.
She dared to look into Daphne's face for the first time since she began this awful conversation. Daphne's expression, apart from shocked, was undecipherable. Pansy recognised a wave of anger cross Daphne's blue eyes. Oh, my Gods, she does hate me. She watched as Daphne, her best friend since she was nine years old, inhaled a deep breath, and the blonde stood up. She was hurried, yet still graceful, even with her chair being practically flung aside. She's leaving. She's having a Daphne Drama. She's having a Daphne Drama AT ME.
"Daph, wait! Please, it's not-" Daphne had stormed around the table towards her. Pansy stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widened, and her body shrank back into her chair. She's going to fucking hit me. Daphne launched herself on top of Pansy, her arms locked themselves around Pansy's neck. Is she trying to strangle me?
"Oh, Pans!" Daphne's voice began to choke. What the hell, Daphne, you're sitting on my knee you weirdo! Well, at least she's not mad, is she?
"You're not mad at me?" Pansy's voice was muffled beneath Daphne's hold on her.
"Why would I be mad at you? Why would you think I would hate you?"
Pansy shrugged. "Well, it's not, you know, great is it?"
"But it's not you. I'm not going to be mad at you over what your arsehole dad is doing." Daphne squeezed Pansy tighter. I may still end up strangled.
"Daphne?"
"Hmm?"
"Daphne, you do realise you're sitting on my knee, right?"
"Yes."
"Okay, I had to make sure because, you know, people are looking." Pansy had become embarrassingly aware that people were indeed watching the pair. Muggles, both at the surrounding tables and on the pavement that was parallel to the restaurant's front were outright staring at the duo. Daphne got up, loudly proclaimed that everyone observing was 'Clearly jealous.' Sinking back into her seat, she picked up her cocktail, and after realising it was almost empty started looking in all directions, no doubt trying to locate the waiter.
Pansy started to laugh, in spite of everything. She had no idea what this year had in store. It was common knowledge that Voldemort had returned, and this meant there would be sides to choose between and possibly fighting whichever one they opted to oppose. Whatever happened, Pansy was struck with the certainty that she still had her best friend. She realised, in the moment her friend hugged her neck, that she'd never appreciated Daphne Greengrass more.
"I love you, you weirdo," Pansy said across the table, only Daphne clearly wasn't listening, her blue eyes fixated at a point directly over Pansy's right shoulder.
"Here she is!" the blonde exclaimed, excitedly, getting to her feet again. Pansy turned her head just in time to see a familiar face bobbing its way amongst the other tables towards them. Pansy smiled and joined Daphne on her feet just as Millicent got arrived at their table.
"Hi, girls!" Millicent cried as she rushed to hug first Pansy and then Daphne, in turn. "How are you both?"
Both Pansy and Daphne exchanged polite niceties with their friend, who had pulled up her own seat and was beckoning to the waiter nearby. "I'll have what," Millicent paused, her eyes dashing between Pansy and Daphne's drinks, eventually she settled on Daphne's looking the most appealing, and pointing to the beverage she continued, "one of those, please."
The waiter nodded and turned on his heel at her request, and as she removed her coat, Millicent dipped her voice and muttered a pointed, "Okay, how are you both, really?" Pansy and Daphne shared a thousand words with one look, and one slight nod from Daphne, was all Pansy needed to be persuaded to tell Millicent everything she had just shared with Daphne.
"Shit!" Millicent exclaimed once Pansy had finished telling the story of her being appointed Head Girl, to Rabastan's night time visit, to her newfound information about her father's chosen vocation. "That's...a lot, are you okay, Pans?"
Pansy swallowed, "Yeah, I-I'm fine. I'm okay."
"Babe, I really don't think you are okay," Daphne interjected, never one for subtlety.
"I agree with Daph," Millicent said, reaching across the table and grabbing one of Pansy's hands in her own for a second. "We're here for you." Daphne nodded enthusiastically at Millicent's words.
"Whatever you need," Daphne agreed, before contemplating for a few seconds, "I wonder who Head Boy will be?"
"Probably Draco," Pansy said, "it makes sense for them to do the same for him as they did for me."
"Imagine if it's not, though," Millicent mused, "imagine living with Macmillan, or Finch-Fletchley...or Longbottom!" she added with a cackle that Daphne matched.
Pansy rolled her eyes at her friends. "Well, Longbottom wasn't even a Prefect so that seems unlikely."
"I can't believe you're abandoning us," Millicent said, a feigned look of hurt suddenly present on her face.
"That's what I said," Daphne stated, her eyes shining as she struggled to keep a straight face, "see Pans, Millie agrees, you are awful."
Millicent nodded as she reached for her newly delivered Sex on the Beach. "Positively terrible."
"Well, if reputations are to be upheld, the Queen Bitch of Slytherin can't be seen as anything less than awful and terrible now, can I?"
"Well," Millicent began, "you do have a point, there."
"I feel like the most important thing to discuss isn't Pansy's ridiculous demand to move into the Head Quarters to make room for all the sacrificial altars and jars of unicorn blood she needs, is who," she pointed at Millicent and Pansy in turn, "is going to get it on, with who?" Pansy didn't miss the slight colouring of Millicent's cheeks at Daphne's question and watched with intrigue Millicent asked Daphne if she was still sleeping with Theo, something that Daphne had been doing for the majority of the last two years. Interesting, Pansy thought to herself as her eyes met Millicent's and a momentary plea of silence crossed over Millicent's brown iris'.
"Mer-lin NO!" Daphne replied, having obviously missed the fleeting blush over Millicent's face. "He was such a pig to me, and besides," she pushed herself further upright in her chair, and as Pansy and Millicent exchanged another look, Pansy knew that the whole reason that Daphne had started the conversation was about to be revealed. "A certain Mr Zabini might have been owling me all summer, even when I was in America." The beam now present on Daphne's face was infectious. "Girls, I think I'm in love," she whispered the last two words, as though afraid of them.
"That's great, Daph," Millicent said, and Pansy couldn't help but wonder if she had only imagined the touch of relief in Millicent's tone. "What about you, Pans? Are you and Draco still on?"
Pansy's mouth twisted as she contemplated the question. In many ways the answer should be simple, it should be yes. An easy yes. They'd been drawn together since First Year, and first was something of a running theme between them. First kiss, first...everything. Draco was, in many ways, a danger. His involvement with the Death Eaters, and the fact he'd taken the Mark without too much prompting, however misguided, not to mention his proximity to the situation in which got Albus Dumbledore killed, should be enough to make anyone want to run a million miles from the Malfoy heir. But it had never felt that way, not to Pansy. In fact, he'd always felt the very opposite of dangerous.
Draco Malfoy was Pansy's safety net.
And yet, after last year, especially towards the end, the connection they shared had shifted. It was still raw and real and they were still, in many ways, everything to the other, but Pansy didn't know if the them that was a couple could ever come back.
"I don't feel like that about him now," Pansy told the other girls, "after last year, he got so...ill, you know?" Pansy watched both Daphne and Millicent nod. It hadn't been a secret, Pansy doubted that anyone in Hogwarts hadn't noticed Draco's dwindling sense of self at one point or another. "I ended up feeling more...responsible for him than attracted to him. It's like he was mine, he's always been mine, and probably always will be, but maybe just not in that way anymore."
Both her friends offered a smile at Pansy's words. "Do you know what's funny?" Daphne began, "take out the not attracted part, because obviously he has been seriously attracted to you, but that's exactly how he's always felt about you, Pans. It's like you're his, to protect. It's lovely."
Pansy gave a small nod. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."
"See, Pans, even when everything feels like shit, you'll always have people who would do anything for you." Pansy offered her best friend a soft smile, hoping that somehow, despite the terrifying state that their world was now in, that Daphne was correct. She needed them all.
She needed them, always.