Thank you as always for all your feedback, guys, and to the lovely review left by a reader on her bio – I'm flattered. And happy. You guys are all so awesome. Here's the next chapter – I'm thinking it's not quite what people are expecting. Which is kind of how I like it? Maybe. It might be my last update until the weekend, but we shall see. I'm busy editing my apple fic. Enjoy!
LCailan
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The kitchen was too small, Pansy realized. And the fact that Draco advanced on her like some sort of wild animal didn't help. She backed into the small table that stood in the corner of the white and beige colored room.
"What's gotten into you? You're off your trolley!"
Her voice was a frightened hiss, but Pansy tried not to show her fear.
"No, I'm quite sane, I assure you."
Draco stopped in the middle of the kitchen, watching her with an icy, calculating gaze. For a moment Pansy swallowed, trying to tear her eyes away from that gaze, but he wouldn't allow it, making her feel trapped and nervous. The seconds ticked by, and finally, she couldn't take it anymore.
"What do you want from me?"
There was a silence in which she thought she'd go out of her mind, and then he spoke.
"I'll be taking Lily Potter with me today, and you're going to pretend I was never here."
Pansy's eyes widened.
"You want her? You can come to my office."
Draco's face became a stark white, the lines hardening. He reached out and yanked on her overcoat, effectively stopping any movement she may have made.
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough," he whispered against her ear. "But, I said she'll be leaving with me."
Pansy writhed out of his grasp, panting.
"Don't you dare manipulate me!"
"That's rich!"
His laugh held no warmth.
"You think I don't know what you and my wife did, Parkinson?"
She said nothing, but her expression spoke a thousand words. He offered a smile, before stepping even closer.
"That desperate, are you?" he continued to whisper, his words as sharp as ice picks, causing Pansy's blood to freeze.
She shook her head, swallowing hard.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
It was strange, how even caught in the lie, Pansy refused to admit it. She tried to step out of his grasp, but Draco did not relinquish his tight hold on her.
"I think you do."
His grip tightened.
"I hate being manipulated, Parkinson."
"I never manipulated you!"
Her eyes flashed with loathing as she spoke.
"I gave you a choice, didn't I?"
Draco's jaw twitched, but other than that, he was still as death.
"No, you manipulated me from the beginning, and I let you. No more. I told you already what's going to happen."
"Over my dead body, you'll take that child. She's mine."
Her sneer dripped with vehemence and finally, she yanked away from him in a near violent fashion. For a second, he was floored at the grace with which she moved, for Pansy wasn't by any means a graceful woman. In fact, she was rather rough around the edges.
A second was all she needed, and the witch had her wand out.
"Expelliarmus!" she hissed, and Draco jumped out of the way, running into the small kitchen table, wincing with the pain it caused.
"Incarcerous!"
With a squeal, Pansy was bound to the nearest chair with invisible, magical ropes.
"You insufferable arsehole!"
She spat the words whilst squirming violently in the chair, nearly knocking it over in her vehemence. Her face had turned an unsightly shade of red, her black hair falling into her eyes as she struggled.
"Let me go!"
Draco watched her struggling in cold silence, waiting for the inevitable; she would have to spend her energy sometime, and then, she would be still.
Finally, she gave up. Her body stopped moving, and she went limp against her magical bonds. It seemed like she was lifeless, if not for her eyes, which snapped at him with rabid quality, as if she were an animal trapped against her will.
Draco knelt down next to Parkinson, snatching her wand from her curled fingers.
"You cost Blaise Zabini his job," he began slowly, hoping that she would understand where he was going.
She snorted with reproach.
"I did everyone a favor," she hissed. "How can anyone call him a man after he defiled himself the way he did?"
Draco smiled tolerantly, knowing it was only possible because he finally had something on her that no one else did. He planned on using it to his advantage.
"You'll lose your job."
Her eyes widened.
"I won't!"
"You will, if I go to Bellatrix and tell her what you did."
Once more, she began to struggle, though it was weaker this time.
"And why would Bellatrix care? Once she learns what Zabini's done, and what he's bred, none of this will matter! She'll be on my side!"
Draco cocked his head thoughtfully.
"Don't be so sure. When everything is said and done, no one wants fighting within the Ministry, do they? She won't be happy when she learns the lengths you've gone to, Parkinson. Especially for such self-serving purposes."
She was choked; it was as if her lungs refused to work, causing her breathing to hitch, and her vision to blur. At first, she wasn't aware of the tears, but then they coursed down her face, burning hot against her skin. She hadn't considered this; she hadn't intended to have anyone find out about her involvement in what had happened to Zabini. Her job was the only certainty in her mostly uncertain life, the only thing that she cherished.
The terror coursed through her, a vicious cyclone of emotion.
And though she wished for silence, Draco continued to speak.
"This war the Ministry started years ago is still raging on, Parkinson. Bellatrix might hate the idea of an official mating with a Mudblood, but she lets it happen anyway, doesn't she? And she'd rather that go on, pretending like it doesn't, than have officials fighting between each other, stabbing each other in the back."
His face registered no emotion; his words were simply that – words.
"We need to be united as a front against what is coming. In all war there is resistance, isn't there? We're facing it now, with the WERA coming after us each month, with what happened at Zabini's alienage. There are two sides to this mess and sometimes, I think Voldemort has forgotten that he still faces opposition."
Pansy wriggled against her bonds, her face turning a brilliant crimson.
"He'll still win in the end! We've already won! This isn't a war! And I won't lose my job!"
Her reply was confident, although Draco sensed something he hadn't expected – a touch of panic.
Perhaps she's not as certain as she wants to be. Merlin knows, none of us should be. We're fighting a war whether we believe or not, and our leader cares nothing for his followers.
"Perhaps now," he said softly. "But it won't always be like this. Use your head, Parkinson! I know you have one; you were always smart. You went behind my back. You went behind everyone's back. Why would you have done that if only to keep yourself clear of what's happened. You fear losing your job, don't you? Because you knew it could happen if someone found out what you did."
He paused, smirking.
"And, I did."
They stared at each other in a long moment of silence pregnant with tension and looming confrontation.
She felt as if she were being stretched impossibly, as if each breath would cause her to snap.
Angry and terrified, she let out a strangled cry.
"They Ministry ought to be glad I rid them of a traitor like Blaise Zabini!"
Draco laughed cruelly.
"I could understand it if you had done it for just that reason – to rid the Ministry of a traitor. But, you didn't! You did it because Zabini got in the way of your plans, didn't he?"
The color drained from her face just as quickly as it had bloomed there.
Draco continued.
"Your boyfriend's been fucking every Mudblood he can get his hands on, and you know that! If you cared so much about a man defiling himself and keeping his position in the Ministry, wouldn't you have turned him in? Or Greyback, Mulciber, Rookwood, and Macnair? Haven't you taken them all to bed at some point or another?"
He laughed, hiding his disgust.
"Do you think I'm that stupid, Parkinson?"
"You don't understand!"
Her wail echoed in the starkly silent room and Draco only shook his head, his fists clenched at his sides stiffly.
"Then, make me understand, Parkinson. You'd use a child to manipulate me? What purpose would it serve? What is this goal that you have, and why do you feel such a need to control me and Hermione Granger?"
No sooner had he uttered the question, Parkinson's face changed. And what replaced the look of anger rattled something inside of Draco.
He had known her too many years, and he had seen facets of her personality that most others wouldn't have had the chance to see. She had been stubborn and willful in school, quite conceited and certain of everything she did and set her sights on. Petulance and childishness had gone hand in hand. She had never been delicate or pretentious, putting on airs, or acting like she was weak and vulnerable. Instead, she had been strong, a fighter, a girl who ran around with the boys, and then a woman who had seized power willingly, embracing it, and molding it to her liking. Never, in all the time he had known her, had she behaved like a woman would have given what they had all been through. So, Draco had forgotten to see her as one. He had never found her attractive. She had been little more to him than a nuisance, and a rather rough and bullying one at that. He had found her too wily and manipulative, driven by her own selfish wants.
Pansy Parkinson was many things, both desirable and disgusting, but weak, she was not. In fact, one of the only things he had ever admired about her was her strength. The world had been crumbling down around them for years, washing away in its storm all those too weak to withstand it. But Parkinson, well, she had thrived. She had survived, and she had risen in the ranks.
In that moment, however, he realized that underneath it all, she was still human. And she hurt. He saw it in the fall of her face, in the tears she tried to withhold, in vain. He saw it in the tremble of her lips. She was still just a woman, after all. He loathed her, for she had long ago lost her conscience and the things she had been doing were despicable, but something in her face gave Draco pause.
Parkinson's voice was broken.
"Have you ever once considered what I've been through?"
She was embarrassed; he could see that now.
"Did you once ever consider my feelings? Don't you see that it's not about Hermione Granger? It's about my own bloody sanity, Draco! I've had to watch you marry someone else! Have a son with someone else! Be ignored and treated like I'm nothing, while I've waited, hoping that you'd-"
He watched as she dropped her face, hiding her tears, too proud to look in him in the eyes and cry.
"And then, something about that piece of Mudblood filth-"
Once more, she fell silent, but the rage that washed over her in waves was nearly physical; she was trembling with it, shaking against her bonds.
"Maybe you'll never understand what it's like to watch someone that you want so much, be with someone else."
Her voice was small, beaten down and defeated. And so unlike the Pansy Parkinson Draco knew, that it was rather alarming.
"All those years in school, and never once did you notice! You ran off and married the first woman you parents suggested, didn't you? Why not consider me? Why not see that, in the grand scheme of things, we could have been happy? There were a lot of things that you and I went through over the years, and most of them made no sense. This whole world makes no sense, Draco! Do you really think that I'm living this life without asking questions, and without worrying about what tomorrow will bring?"
She struggled once more against her bindings.
"I'm nearly as terrified as everyone else, but I'm going to be strong because it's all I've got! Nothing makes sense to me, but you did! You and I, our life, our future, together, that made sense to me! I've had to watch you move on with your own life, married to someone else. Don't make me do it again!"
As she looked up, Draco could only feel sorry for her. The truth was, he felt very little else.
"I've loved you all this time," she whispered. "And I wish I could stop. I can't bear the idea of you and that Mudblood-"
For a third time, she fell into a painful, helpless silence.
As Draco stood there, facing a woman he had known his whole life, and never actually considered a woman, or a life partner, he felt a strange, cold anger churning within him.
Why don't I love her?
He had never asked himself that question; it had always simply been the truth. When one felt so strongly about something, there was no need to question it, after all.
Why haven't I ever loved her?
Faced with the honesty in her eyes, Draco forced himself to face his feelings for Parkinson. Loving her would have made things easier. He had not married Astoria for love, and if one pureblood was good enough to marry, why not another?
The irony was that, in spite of his abhorrence for Parkinson's behavior, Draco didn't truly hate her.
She's right.
In the grand scheme of things, as she had put it, their relationship would have made sense. Love had never been an issue for Draco, and he wondered what it would have been like to marry a woman who actually did love him, instead of a cold, porcelain doll who was beautiful to look at, but whose loveliness hid a rotten core.
At least, Parkinson made no pretenses to who she really was, and Draco knew her.
But still, in the end, I would never have been able to marry her. Why?
Sometimes, there were no answers, he realized.
Her tears touched him, even though Draco didn't want them to. It was strange, really. He swallowed, angry at first with himself, and then with Hermione.
I'm married to a woman I hate, and I'm too weak to leave her. I could have married a woman who loved me, and I was too stupid to do so. And now, I'm in love with Hermione, and…
Nothing would be the same again, he knew. Because now, he knew what it was like to be in love with someone, and he couldn't belong to anyone else, again. Ironically, he wondered if what he was feeling now, the loss of Hermione, was anything like what he had put Pansy through.
Maybe, it was.
As she had been talking, Draco had stood, facing away from her, but now, he knelt down next to her again.
"I've known how you've felt about me. You've made nothing a secret, Pansy. You make nothing a secret once you've decided you want it badly enough."
She watched him, her eyes glazed with tears she had yet to shed. A small choked sound escaped her, but Draco would never know it was because of how beautiful her name sounded on his lips. The unshed, glimmering tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks.
"The thing you should realize is that I won't apologize for my own feelings. And using a child to come after me won't change a thing. I won't let you terrorize another human being or beat Granger to death simply because you think we should be together."
Her body visibly stiffened and her jaw clenched.
"How can I give up on something that I know feels right?"
The choked, throaty question was something Draco couldn't answer. And he knew he was treading on dangerous ground; Pansy was weak now, but soon, she would feel humiliated and her anger would return.
"I don't know. But going after Granger won't change a thing. Give it up."
He swallowed, as he allowed her eyes to search his. Her voice was low when she spoke, the earlier brokenness gone now.
"I know you. You've gone and fallen for her, haven't you?"
It was the calm in the storm, Draco knew. Hermione was in danger.
"No, I haven't."
His gaze hardened and he refused to let it falter. One misstep, one sign of weakness and Parkinson would have the answer she was seeking.
"She's just another Mudblood."
Draco gave her a stony glare, his jaw twitching.
"You might no longer have a conscience. Merlin knows I understand that. We've all been put through too much, and we've all handled it differently."
That was the truth; some had been broken, others had forced themselves to stop thinking on all the things they were doing. And Pansy had checked her conscience at the door, determined to do whatever it took to maintain control of her life and to rise within the newly formed Ministry.
She was the worst kind, he decided, even if a part of him would always admire her twisted tenacity.
Draco scowled.
"But, I still do, and I refuse to allow unnecessary violence. Lily Potter is a child. Hermione Granger is no different than any other person at the alienage, and I won't have you singling her out simply because you've deluded yourself into thinking I care for her."
Parkinson's eyes narrowed and her throat moved; the words were thick when she spoke them.
"I'm not delusional."
"You are if you believe there's anything between Granger and I."
He stood, swallowing hard. Telling the truth was no option, he knew.
"Do you want the truth?"
She glared at him.
"The truth is I know how you feel."
A strange silence settled upon them, like a thick blanket, muffling all other sounds.
"I don't believe you. Not for a moment. Not the Draco Malfoy I know, anyway. You've spent most of you life without consideration of what anyone but you might feel."
The words were harsh, but he didn't completely deny them; in some ways, they were true.
"That all changed when I met Astoria."
The woman bound to the kitchen chair stared up at him mutely; her expression was one of considerable shock.
"I know how you feel because I've spent the last six years of my life in love with a woman who doesn't love me back."
His eyes never wavered, so that no one would be the better.
"I don't believe you," she whispered, her eyes narrowing.
"You don't have to. It's still just as true."
Parkinson wore an expression which reflected disgust.
"You mean me to believe that in spite of the countless times you bad-mouthed her to me? Mocked her for her stupidity and the fact that she has no real emotions?"
Her words were cold, dripping with disdain. His gray eyes reflected her tone.
"What's a man to do, Parkinson? I gave her everything. I've done what I could to make her want me the way I want her and it's been for nothing. I couldn't…just admit to the rest of the world how little she thinks of me! These unrequited feelings are with me all the time, from the moment I awaken to the moment I lie down to sleep! I wasn't going to give up my pride, too!"
Draco hoped it was convincing; he hoped both for himself and for Hermione's sake. A look of contempt colored Parkinson's face, and Draco could see that she was no longer certain of what the truth was.
I can do this. I know I can. I have to. I have to.
"I know you don't think so. I know you hate her. The whole world seems to, but I know a different side to her, and I just…I can't explain what it is. I do understand that I love her. She's the only one."
He paused for effect.
"How can I explain something I can't understand, Pansy?"
It was strange how much control he had over Parkinson, just by using her name. Her mouth moved, as if she was going to say something, but only a sigh escaped along with one rogue tear. It glittered along her cheek and trembled on her chin before falling.
"How can you explain...?"
Her pathetic echo died away, as her mind spun, making her sick. She couldn't understand it! How could he be in love with someone who treated him so horribly?
Well, I suppose you should ask yourself that question.
Her dismal reality settled over Pansy. Bloody hell, it more like crashed down over her head, nearly knocking her unconscious. She looked away from Draco, her breath coming heavy and fast.
"Let me go," she growled miserably, twisting against her magical bonds in a futile manner.
He stood, gazing down at her, feeling a strange mixture of understanding and sympathy. It didn't sit well with him, not at all.
"Only if you understand what I'm telling you. You can't keep that child here. Nothing will come of it, because I can't change how I feel, any more than you can."
The two stared at each other for a long, tense moment.
"Have you ever cared about me, Draco?"
It was a strange question, that. His brow furrowed for a second.
"Not the way you've wanted me to."
He swallowed.
"But, yes."
She looked away finally, taking a breath.
"Let me go, and I'll do as you ask," she finally spoke. "A transfer out of my alienage, as soon as you possibly can."
There was a long silence. Perhaps, it wasn't exactly the way he would have wanted it, but all the same, Hermione would be safe. And it wasn't like she loved him or anything like that.
So, what's it matter?
He lifted his wand and whispered the incantation and Pansy felt her bonds loosening, and then disappearing. She stood on wobbly legs.
"I know you care more than most men in your position would," she whispered. "A long time ago, I think I knew how to care, too. There's still this part of me…"
Her hand covered her heart, but no words were possible.
"There's still this part of me that remembers how to."
Then she swallowed her face pale and colored with despair.
"If you've ever cared for me, please."
Draco stared at her, wishing he could understand her better, know what was going on in her mind, because her silence, her strange, broken words were infuriating simply because he didn't understand anymore, where they were coming from. It wasn't exactly terrifying, although it unsettled him.
But, she remained still, the fight in her gone.
"Fine," he replied stiffly. "I'll see to it once they replace Zabini. You won't have to deal with that anymore. No one will."
She nodded.
"And you won't say anything about…what I did? I want to keep my job."
Her voice was tight and it trembled.
"I'll agree so long as you hold up your half of the bargain. The girl is mine, and you'll leave Hermione Granger alone."
Draco would never know if their deal was satisfactory to her, but he didn't think much further past the situation at hand. At least, Lily would be safe. He had held up his half of the promise made to Granger. Even though everything between them would remain as it was, he knew.
In this world, we aren't meant to be together. I was a fool. And now, look at me.
There was nothing more to say, and although Draco believed that much between them was still left unsaid, and for the better. He nodded, feeling awkwardness now, and turned to go.
Her voice broke into the silence.
"You're too good for her, Draco. Maybe someday, you'll be able to break out of whatever hold she has on you."
Draco thought for a moment, he ought to have turned around, said something back. But, he never did. He simply walked out of the room and found Lily Potter still standing near the closet, watching him with eyes too much like Harry Potter's.
"Come along," he said stiffly.
The child didn't move. There was no sound from the kitchen; there was no sound from anywhere.
"I'm taking you to your mother."
The child hesitated, and then took a step towards Draco, and he felt horribly at the fearful way in which she reacted.
Poor thing.
"Come on, then."
He opened the door, and the little girl moved quickly through it, turning her face up towards Draco, as if for confirmation. He nodded, and she hurried down the stairs, without looking back.
Draco felt guilty. He wasn't sure exactly why, but still, he felt it. Lying to Parkinson? Protecting Hermione? Hadn't he been doing those things all along? Why feel guilty now?
The child was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps, by the huge door which she had attempted to open with no success. He opened the door to the sound of tires on the pavement, and water dripping from the awnings around them and the colorful umbrellas that passed them by on the walk ways.
He knelt in front of the little girl.
"Bundle up, it's cold."
She stood, staring at him with those large, green eyes, but did not move. Gingerly, Draco took a moment to make sure she was closely bundled, and pulled the hood over her face, in case someone were to recognize her.
Then, moving quickly, and taking her tiny hand in his, he moved towards an alleyway from which they could apparate. He hoped the child was familiar with such a thing, because he wouldn't risk being seen – not now.
One street over he ducked under a red and white striped awning and dashed into a secluded corner between two brick buildings. Then, he knelt down, pulling out his portkey.
"We're going to your mother now."
His voice was low, and the little girl pushed back her hood. She had startling porcelain skin and a head full of riotous dark auburn curls.
"Thank you, Mister."
He swallowed past a lump in his throat, feeling his eyes water.
"Did she hurt you?"
"No."
"Not at all?"
"No. But I miss my Mama."
"I know."
The wind picked up, howling through the alley, and making Draco shiver. The gold watch glimmered in the shadows.
"Have you used a portkey?"
Somehow, he doubted it, and the little girl's curiosity confirmed his doubts.
"It's magic."
"Mama shows me magic. She says I can do magic, too."
He nodded.
"Someday."
Then, he reached out to her.
"Hold my hand, then. We'll go together."
Those green eyes flickered away from Draco's face and down to his pale, long-fingered hand. After a moment, she slipped her tiny fingers in between two of his, and then squeezed.
She looked up, smiling just a little. It was sweet; a bit uncertain, and mostly shy. She had a dimple in her left cheek.
"Don't let go," he whispered, reaching down to touch the portkey with his other hand. As they disappeared with a whirl and rush, Draco felt his tears come, brought on by the image of his little boy.
Lily Potter's smile had reminded him.