A/N: I just utterly need to remind myself of the reasons that I ship Harry/Draco, because, after reading "What Will Happen in Book 7?" I had a great difficulty remembering why I love Harry/Draco, but I was reminded when I reread a ship manifesto on LiveJournal communities, ship manifesto / 18097 . html. Spaces so fanfiction will let me post it.

It's brilliant, and reminds me why I love Harry/Draco, and I'm determined to make their relationship difficult, because that is the way it should be. Adios!

-CatJetRat

Chapter 8

Pansy

HBP

Normal POV

Mnemosyne urgently whispered her secret password to the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office and moved up the stairs.

Her gaze flickered across the stones, taking in every detail she could. A world in which she was not trapped and doomed to torture others still seemed almost impossible at the moment. She quickly opened the large wooden door and entered Dumbledore's office. Mnemosyne froze at the sight that greeted her.

Dumbledore had been leaning his head back against his chair when she entered, his eyes half-closed. When he heard the door open, he jerked awake, bringing up his right hand to adjust his glasses. Her gaze focused on his hand, and she inhaled sharply.

"I see things have changed a bit since I went away," she murmured. "Do enlighten me."

Dumbledore sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes, scrutinizing her. "Did you have a restful holiday?"

At his voice, Mnemosyne gave an involuntary shudder. That same voice had screamed her name over and over again for two months, begging her to stop…to stop….

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I went through the veil," she whispered.

When her eyes opened again, Dumbledore had his wand drawn, uncertainly, though. "Most witches and wizards who go through the veil come back half-mad," he said warily. What happened to them was too horrific for them to speak of, and there are no records of what lies beyond to veil." He rose to his feet, wand still pointing in her direction. "Should I be worried?"

A small laugh escaped her, the first she had uttered in nearly nine months. "No, Dumbledore, I'm not mad. I survived. Barely, but I did." An ironic smile crossed her face. "It was you that saved me."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked, voice still wary yet now slightly curious.

She faltered slightly, but then cleared her throat and managed to recount the basics of what had happened beyond the veil. She left out the specifics of who she tortured and how, but she knew that Dumbledore probably suspected he had been one of those she tortured. "And, in essence, your honesty with me saved me," she said softly. "Because you were honest with me about whom my father is, and the likelihood that I might succumb to the darkness as well, I was able to be honest with myself. I think I was one of the most honest people to ever cross the threshold of the veil, which is, I think, what saved me in the end." A small smile stole across her lips. "I'm actually somewhat glad it happened. Now that I've seen such horror, I know I want nothing to do with it. I'll continue to fight against Voldemort with a new purpose in life. Though where I went wasn't exactly relaxing, it gave me a chance to see the world through new eyes. It…healed me, in a way. I was able to let go of most of my anger, towards myself, towards Voldemort, even a lot of it towards you. However, I still want you to restore Harry's memories."

Dumbledore had listened to what she said in silence, and, until she mentioned restoring Harry's memories, his eyes had actually begun to twinkle towards her, something they rarely did when he saw her. However, at the mention of Harry, his eyes darkened again.

"If it was that simply, Mnemosyne, I would do so. However, erasing you from the picture had a far greater effect than I realized. You see, Ron and Harry, who had formerly been fighting, became friends. Without you there, Harry never knew what Ron did, and as such had no reason to be angry with him. Also, I think Mr. Potter is days away from asking Ms. Ginny Weasley to be his girlfriend."

"Ew!" Mnemosyne exclaimed, in an uncharacteristic display of immaturity. "That's like incest!"

Dumbledore shrugged uncomfortably. "You weren't there to set up Ms. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom. As such, they never fell in love—never realized that they were perfect for each other."

Mnemosyne gave an affected shudder. Ginny and Harry dating was almost as gross as Ginny and Ron dating in her mind.

"The worst affect, unfortunately, was on the young Malfoy boy."

Mnemosyne snapped to attention. "Draco? What's wrong with Draco?"

Dumbledore sighed. "With your guidance, he would have been able to find the strength within himself to defy his parent's expectations and join the Order of the Phoenix. However, because he has no memories of you, any thoughts of choosing a different path seem like a distant dream to him." Dumbledore paused, as if his next words were physically painful to say. "He became a Death Eater."

Mnemosyne's heart stopped dead in her chest. "Noo," she groaned, grabbing the head of the chair she was standing behind for support. "He's just a child! Why on earth would Voldemort—"

"To get to me." Mnemosyne looked up at Dumbledore, a question in her gaze. "Voldemort, I suspect, has assigned Draco Malfoy the task of killing me. Not because he thinks Draco has any chance of succeeding, but to punish Lucius for failing to obtain the prophecy last year, and, I suspect, largely for his own amusement. I think, also, that a small part of him is curious to see how close Draco can come."

"How close has he come?" she asked. Right now she couldn't afford to get emotional. She went into strict information-attaining mode, so that she could decide on the best course of action later.

Dumbledore gave a non-committal shrug. "So far he's tried to send me a cursed necklace which ending up hurting the person he used to send it."

Mnemosyne frowned. "Sounds like his heart isn't really in the job."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said evasively.

Mnemosyne sat in her chair and fell into deep thought. Dumbledore pocketed his wand and sat as well, observing her in silent curiosity, as they both reflected on the failures of their lives.

Several floors below, Harry frantically stuffed a bezoar into the mouth of his best friend, hoping to thwart Draco Malfoy's second, failed attempt to assassinate Dumbledore.

DH

Harry's gaze flickered upwards from his Charms textbook. Seamus had taken the seat across from him at the table he was sitting at in the library. "Hey," Seamus grinned. His smile was so blinding Harry almost had look away. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Sure," Harry said, smiling and marking his page, before closing his textbook. He glanced back up at Seamus. "Here to study?"

Seamus shrugged. "Supposedly. Hermione's on one of her rampages. She's freaking out about that test we have coming up in Transfiguration. She snaps at anyone who goes near her. When she nearly blew my ear off for sneezing too loudly, I realized it was time to go."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I knew she'd be in a bad mood today when I saw a bit of fried egg in her hair. Eating fast is usually a tip-off that she's worried about something. I escaped while all body parts were still working correctly."

Seamus grinned again. "Did you get your teeth whitened?" Harry asked suddenly.

The grin turned into a frown. "No, why do you ask?"

"Nothing," Harry muttered. "I just…never mind."

"No, come on, tell me," Seamus said. "Now I'm curious. What makes you think I got my teeth whitened?"

Harry shrugged, embarrassed for some reason he couldn't quite explain. "Nothing really, it's just that your teeth seem whiter than they usually do."

"Maybe you just never noticed how white they are," Seamus replied, raising his eyebrows. "Maybe you're really seeing them for the first time." Harry got the distinct impression that Seamus was talking about more than his teeth, but what, exactly, he was talking about, Harry didn't know, didn't know if he wanted to know.

"Right," Harry muttered. His gaze flickered down to his books. "So, um, what's up with you?"

Seamus leaned back in his chair, a vision of relaxation, sandy hair falling in his blue eyes. Harry felt strangely diminished in comparison, very aware of his short stature and messy hair. Jealousy. That's what was going on. Harry was jealous of Seamus, jealous that Seamus could turn heads just by walking down a hallway, while Harry turned heads merely because of an unattractive scar on his forehead. Harry yanked down his bangs irritably, annoyed that he had allowed his jealousy to escalate.

"Are you all right?" Seamus asked, concerned, front legs falling back down.

Harry gave a small shrug, and forced a smile to his face, which turned into a pained grimace as Parvati Patil walked by and gave Seamus an appreciative glance.

"Um, I should go," Harry said. He grabbed his bag and shoved his things in it, uncertain why he should be so jealous. He'd never been a jealous person—well, except for perhaps Cedric.

Seamus watched quietly as Harry left the library, and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that Seamus's eyes followed him long after Harry had put several walls between them.

Hermione rushed out of the common room. Her head felt like it was about to explode with the knowledge she'd been stuffing in her brain for the past several hours. It wasn't like her to put off studying until the last minute, but she couldn't help it. Now she was late for her Head Girl rounds. They were much like prefect rounds, except she needed to double check the hallways around all the Houses. She didn't mind, though, it was a chance to relax and think.

She was running Human Transfiguration over in her head one more time when she ran headlong into a mass of blonde hair and icy blue Slytherin eyes.

"Bloody hell, Granger," Pansy Parkinson snarled. "Watch where you're going?"

"Pansy?" Hermione said in surprise, getting up and offering her hand. "What are you doing here?"

"In case you've forgotten, Granger, I'm a prefect," Pansy snapped, swatting away the proffered hand. "I was doing my rounds."

"It's a little late for rounds," Hermione replied, raising her eyebrows. "Why didn't you do them sooner?"

"What the hell business is it of yours?" Pansy said, anger clouding her eyes.

"I'm Head Girl," Hermione replied in a steely voice.

Pansy cursed under her breath before saying, "If you must know, I was studying for my Transfiguration exam, you know, the one that's tomorrow. I'm sure you've already got the chapter—hell, the whole book, probably—memorized."

"Why are you so rude?" Hermione asked angrily.

Pansy gritted her teeth. "I've hated you for years—what makes you think that will have changed overnight?"

"We're in a war, and we're on the same side!" Hermione exclaimed. "I would think—"

"We are not on the same side," Pansy retorted. "Just because I haven't branded my loyalty to the Dark Lord on my arm like some of my idiot friends doesn't mean I support you or Potter."

"Why are your friends idiots?" Hermione asked softly.

"Because they decided that a good use of their time would be to torture and kill people!" Pansy exploded. "They thought, 'Hey, this sounds like a good idea,' even after Draco—" she stopped. Tears were glistening in her eyes. She looked half-furious, half-miserable. She lifted her head up to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. "Even after Draco died." Pansy closed her eyes and a couple of tears dropped from her unwilling eyes.

"Pansy," Hermione said softly, reaching out.

"He was my best friend," Pansy whispered. "How am I supposed to deal with that?"

Hermione didn't know what to say. She was faced with a more human side of Pansy then she had ever seen before. Her fingers touched Pansy's shoulder, and Pansy stiffened, but didn't pull away. Vulnerability encompassed her, a Slytherin Hermione used to think was too hard and cold to ever feel. And now Hermione understood. Pansy thought Draco was dead, died for the cause of the Dark Lord. Pansy didn't support Voldemort, but refused to denounce the memory of her friend. Pansy was stuck.

Hermione's heart melted. Pansy's blue eyes were looking at her in such fear, such confusion. And then…

Then they were kissing. Hermione didn't know how it had happened, but Pansy's lips met hers in crushing desperation and need. She slammed Hermione up against the wall, kissing her frantically, right hand exploring Hermione's hair, left hand caressing her inner thigh. Hermione was lost for breath, returning the kiss Pansy was bestowing upon her with equal need. And it was as if Hermione's fingers had a life of their own, reaching out to unbutton Pansy's shirt to run across silk skin peppered with goose bumps, two hard appendages yielding to her touch. Hermione wanted to lick them, suck them, but she was afraid that if she broke the kiss she would break everything. Nothing mattered in those moments. Not Ron, not Harry, not even the fact that she had thought she was straight. Just Pansy's lips and Pansy's need. Pansy, Pansy, Pansy.

The aforementioned girl kicked Hermione's legs apart and stuck one of her own in between them, picking Hermione up and resting her on her leg. Hermione gave several little gasps, breaking the kiss and whimpering. Pansy began to fiercely move her leg back and forth, resting her forehead against Hermione's as she made Hermione feel pleasure she hadn't even known was possible. Hermione met Pansy's lips again, and this time it was her need which was being fulfilled. Then Pansy threw Hermione to the floor and pulled Hermione's pants and underwear off. Hermione was shaking, half with pleasure and half with fear as Pansy went down on her.

Clearly Pansy was no stranger to the art of going down on a girl. Hermione threw her head back and groaned loudly, clutching her robes in fistfuls. Then the warmth and pleasure was gone but Pansy was kissing her again, oh, she was kissing her, and Pansy pulled her wand out and conjured a two-way strap on. Hermione clutched Pansy's arms in fear, but Pansy kept kissing her and whispering nonsense in her ear about how everything was going to be okay. Then the strap-on was on her and she was gently pushing into Hermione. Tears leaked out of Hermione's eyes as her forehead dotted with sweat, pain and pleasure mixing themselves together as Pansy fucked her. Then there was tearing, and the pain was fading as Pansy kept pushing in and out. But the pleasure, Merlin, what pleasure! Hermione began moving her hips in time to Pansy's thrusts, desperately kneading her breasts and kissing her. But there was something building—something, but she wasn't quite sure just what. But it kept going and going and going until Hermione's world exploded in a shower of sparks and oh Merlin, Pansy kept going and Hermione had never felt closer to anyone in her entire life.

Then Pansy came and collapsed on top of her, vanishing the strap-on. Hermione found that she couldn't move her legs, and it felt like someone had just informed her that she had a vagina. It was gaping open, felt like it was bleeding, and her legs stayed apart, Pansy between them. Hermione closed her eyes for an instant, and when she opened them, Pansy was gone, no trace of her, and if Hermione's legs didn't still feel like they'd never work again she might have doubted Pansy had been there at all.

One thing was certain, though: Neither of them would ever be the same again.

A/N: Wow. I really didn't plan for that sex scene. By the way, I don't know if these actually exist, but in my mind, a two-way strap-on is just what it sounds like. A normal strap-on except it also fucks the person wearing it. Sorry about the long-ass hiatus. I think I can start updating sooner now, perhaps more after I send in my college applications. Reviews are love! Adios!

-CatJetRat