... I feel very guilty for leaving this so long. The earlier incarnations for this chapter were just... urgh. Publishing them on here would have been akin to those 'gifts' cats tend to leave you in the shape of cuddly woodland animal carcasses.
Anywho, I forgot to thank MandibleBones (great username btw), BlackImp, the optimistic cynic and Clumsy Tonks (& the anons!) for their lovely and much appreciated comments on the last couple of chapters.
In the next few of days I'll be posting a chapter exclusively containing Pansy-Charlie, but for now... Flashbacks and Disappointment.
The remaining Magizoologists of the Romania Dragon Sanctuary were all assembled in Wynne's office. They were, unsurprisingly, in rather deep dragon dung.
Pansy sat outside, cackling quietly to herself.
Every now and then the chorus of "But it's not Charlie's fault!" was eclipsed by the domineering reprimands of Wynne Warbeck. She alternated between hissing in chilled, deadly tones and yelling in a manner that was more akin to a lion's roar. Pansy actually got chills. This was a master at work. You could practically feel them all cringing through the wall.
And they bloody well deserve it too, Pansy reminded herself as the sound of another cutting chastisement echoed down the corridor. She hadn't taken well to the quick dip in the lake, oh… and being chased by a large, terrifying dragon. However… the praise for her quick thinking with the train was a new and pleasant occurrence. (Probably what Potter experiences on a near minutely basis, if Draco were to be believed). And the rewarding wink from the blond wizard with the reckless grin was especially enthralling, but it hardly made up for the fact she was a) in dragon-occupied Romania, b) far from her faithful Slytherins, and c) deprived access to her subscription to Witch Weekly.
"Miss Parkinson and Professor Scamander, please enter," uttered the steely tones of The Dragon Lady.
Pansy straightened her hair, preparing herself for another onslaught of compliments and commendations. It must not go to my heads, she thought smugly, her unfortunate nose rising in the air. I must stay strong. I must not crumble under the inevitable weight of their praise and decide to stay here. Remember Pansy- Constant Vigilance!
Compliments were Pansy's kryptonite.
Every and any idiotic thing she had ever done could probably be reduced to somebody saying mildly nice things to her.
"Pansy, light of my life-"
"Bugger off, Draco."
"Queen of all Slytherin. Nemesis of the Gryffindorks. Emotional Demolisher of that House with the Unfortunate Yellow Attire."
"If you're trying to get out of Prefect duty again, I will curse you so hard you'll see stars."
"She of the silver-tongued insult and insatiable insatiableness, with hair darker than onyx, and-"
At this point Blaise, who had been recovering from last nights revelries and was draped over the common room bin in elegant disarray, threw an empty bottle of Firewhisky at Draco's head. Unfortunately Draco had rather good reflexes and dodged.
"Aha, NONE can touch me and my preternatural Seeker skills!" announced Draco to the hungover sixth years, who groaned in response.
Blaise moaned something that sounded like a mangle of "Shut up" and "Crucio."
"Very deft," agreed Pansy, not feeling up to stroking Malfoy's behemoth ego when she was trying so hard not to vomit on her shoes. "Nice to know your time as a ferret gave you some worthwhile skills."
Draco gave her a look of wordless hurt. Hah, served him right for missing Daphne's Birthday and the tremendous hangover he should currently be sharing with them all.
Draco slipped his thin frame beside Pansy on the sofa. Even recently broken up they had an easy intimacy. Her body was curved in the foetal position on the offensively green sofa, and he slid his arm around her scrunched body.
"Oh, my dear little lightweight. I know you are only so cruel, because you're in a lot of pain," Draco said soothingly, stroking her black hair.
Someone who was tangled around Theodore added, "And because it's in her nature."
Pansy ignored the errant voice, which an unconvinced part of her suspected to be Millicent. Her body was tense and she was looking at the soft place on Draco's neck under the sharp angle of his jaw. She remembered that touch, and the kisses, and the handholding. Their relationship had been brief in comparison to the span of their friendship, and yet it haunted her. Ghosts of their intimacy continuously reawakened whenever Draco needed something, or Pansy needed someone, or when either of them realized that the only people they could trust in their beloved den of vipers was each other. In those rare moments when Draco ceased to be that terrifying silence that had overcome him in their penultimate year, Pansy was quite willing to give him anything. Anything to stop that quiet pain that wore at him and ate at him like a cancer.
Pansy sometimes looked at the other houses in askance. Ever since that Diggory boy's death, there had been an air around Hogwarts. It had never been a safe place for them, what with evil DADA teachers, inept half-giants, werewolves, Dementors, Basilisks, runaway prizoners (by Merlin, and they send children to this place?!), but the tenuous possibility that the Dark Lord lurked somewhere beyond the school's stone walls set everyone on edge. None so much as the Slytherins. The other houses somehow managed to distract themselves with homework and petty drama, not to mention the three musketeers continuing to Solve Yet Another Mystery and Defeat Evil in that overachieving manner of theirs. Slytherin was different. Slytherin was the house with the highest number of parents, siblings, and family friends on the inside. Every day they awaited news that some one they knew had been called in for questioning, or worse.
They were all aware that even sitting in Potions or drinking out of hours, they were the potentially the knife at their parent's throat. They were the bounty that got threatened when ever a Death Eater made a mistake.
"Pansy," Draco whispered, his voice low and his lips close to her ear. From the bin, Blaise fixed Pansy with a defiant stare and mouthed "NO."
She scrunched her eyes trying to ignore the headache, and inhaled that distinctive Draco scent. He had gone without that awful cologne his Father had sent him, which reeked of leather, oak and unmistakable wealth. He had abandoned it after her subtle comments that it's odour was akin to an affluent Hagrid. The idiot had refused to speak to her for exactly twenty-six hours after that, but it had been worth it just to enjoy that clean smell of soap and skin.
"I just need you to cover me for tonight. Just tonight. Please."
Draco was less suave that he thought he was. When wheedling to get what he wanted he was painfully obvious- probably the result of being a spoilt only child, no one to compete with. Pansy could easily maneuver these supplications to garner favours or trust. Yet his more recent pleas had not been the usual. There was an air of desperation in them that made Pansy quake in the knee and want to lay down her life to fulfill.
"You will be the death of me," she muttered into his neck, only half-bitter. "If this hangover doesn't get me first."
Blaise's mute cries of anger were now joined with vigorous, and obscene, hand gestures.
"Is that a yes?" Draco angled his grey eyes to stare into her black. She knew the moment she agreed he would be gone, taking his warmth and attention with him.
"Don't do it," Blaise groaned, vomiting into the bin once more. "He broke up with you just last month. I may have seen you topless last night, Pansy, but I still expect you to have at least an ounce of self respect."
Draco pulled out his wand, and for a dangerous second Pansy thought this new Malfoy with his ominous silences and even more ominous undertaking was about to curse Blaise. Instead he hexed a sound-proof barrier between them and the others, enclosing them in visible privacy.
In a lower, more urgent voice, Draco continued. "Pans, you know I have to do this. The sooner I finish this… thing, the sooner my parents and you all are safe. I can only ask you to cover for me because you're the best liar and the only one I can trust. Please let me keep you safe."
Was there any better compliment? To be the only one trusted with knowledge of his mission, as vague as he was about it. To be one of the ones he wanted to keep safe. Draco was a bad liar. There was a desperation that exposed a troubled sincerity in his voice. He may not love her anymore, but he trusted her enough to know she would have his back.
Please let me keep you safe.
She knew the penalty for Draco's failure would be his family. The penalty for a second failure would be his friends.
Please let me keep you safe.
She knew she wasn't a priority for him. Family was the upmost. Family protects family. In part, she was glad she wasn't at the top of his list. It meant he would not be afraid to use her, and therefore at least have some help in this shadowy task. It meant she wasn't the reason he was in danger, or looked so pained, or had the Dark Mark inscribed forever on his skin.
Please let me keep you safe.
Those words echoed the ones her brother had said to her last summer. Memories of that midsummer night still woke her from sleep, and imprinted a constant knot of guilt and dread in her stomach. She already was the reason somebody she loved was at the beck and call of the Dark Lord, she couldn't have Draco on her conscience as well.
By Merlin, that night. The town house had been so silent Pansy had wondered why on earth she had awoken at that hour. Then she heard the harsh panting and confused footsteps outside her door. Her brother had entered her room, a mess of blood and unwieldy relief, repeating over and over that he would make her safe. That she would be safe now. He had the Dark Lord's protection. All he had to do was disappear for a little while, but when he returned the world would be a different, better place and Pansy would never have to fear again.
Guilt wasn't a feeling she was much accustomed to, yet she had grown to know it well. Every morning she was reminded of her brother's face and her mother's accusing stare, full in the knowledge that it was because of her he was putting himself in the hands of an unfathomable, malevolent master.
It was because of those words, and that dull voice in her head telling her it was inevitable, that she had put up such little resistance to Draco's sterile termination of their relationship. She already knew she was too pug-nosed, too embittered, with too little brains and too little breeding for one such as Draco Lucius Malfoy. Her pathetic tears and halfhearted accusations of adultery ("Why else do you sneak in to the girl's bathrooms, Draco? The décor?") had been met with sincere reassurances, mirthless laughter, but –most troublingly- relief. He had been relieved to end things with her, quoting that endless mantra- "It will help me keep people safe."
The strangeness of it, doubled with his haunted looks and long absences, cut her vitriol short. It was no fun to try and make him experience the agony she felt when he was already distraught over things far larger and more important than Pansy would ever be.
"Pansy, will you? Please?" asked Draco once more.
Cruelly, she stayed silent for a moment longer, knowing she had already given in.
"Fine, fine. You must be quite desperate to sneak into this Slughorn party. Is Zabini your date?"
Back in the corridor, Pansy took a quick intake of breath. Her spine shivered as if trying to shake off the unwanted memories. If only she had denied him. If only she had been more selfish and refused to cover him throughout all those Prefect patrols. Perhaps he would have failed to let in those Death Eaters. Perhaps Dumbledore would have survived, and this whole mess would have gone down differently.
"Miss Parkinson, are you quite alright?" Scamander muttered to her in an undertone, as he pushed the door to Wynne's office open.
"Quite," she hissed back, watching the other faces in the room morph from submission to morbid interest in her distress.
It was stupid to think in maybes. Especially in this case- if she hadn't covered for him Voldemort would have killed him and his parents. This world may be an awful place filled with prejudice, celebrated Gryffindors and goddam dragons, but it was far improved by having Draco in it.
Pansy was well aware in which event she aided to conspire most of the ill in her family's life, the one thing that would have to be changed to make so many people's lives better. Sometimes she wondered- if she had a time turner, would she have the guts to go back and stop it?
Deep down she knew the answer was no. It was one thing to want her mother to be happier, to wish for one brother to be freed and have the other alive again… It was quite a different beast to end her life before it even began.
"You do look a bit pale, Pansy. You do realize you're not in trouble?" came Charlie's deep voice from her left. Despite just having been ripped apart by his boss, he seemed strangely concerned about her. Weirdo. "What you did was heroic, if mildly ill-thought out- but then again, I'm not exactly one to give out prizes for intelligent decisions in tight situations."
"No, Goldilocks, you are not. Everyone apart from these three, out," said Wynne coldly, surveying her minions scamper out of the office as quickly as possible. Pansy's first impression was that she was standing before an Amazonian ice queen. Like the rest of the Magizoologists, Wynne looked far from the typical library-bound academic and more like someone who caught and killed her food by hand. "And I'm afraid, Weasley, that's not quite the case. Miss Parkinson, you used a train to stop a dragon. Though I would like to applaud you for what was undoubtedly quick thinking at the time, such treatment of an endangered animal is criminal."
Pansy was suddenly pulled out of her pensive depression, and began to wave goodbye any hopes she had of getting a Nimue Peace Prize or even a pat on the back.
"The European Committee for the Control of Magical Animals has been breathing down my neck ever since a certain incident involving Norberta and a picnic basket. I can simply not let this mess go unpunished."
"I'm sorry," said Pansy, dumbfounded. Either side of her Charlie and Scamander looked equally gob smacked. "Did I… hurt the giant bloodthirsty beast? Bruise it's delicate ego somehow?"
"Merlin, no," replied Wynne, rolling up her sleeves in a brisk manner. "It's a dragon. It'd take a lot more that a barely propelled engine to get through that hide. But I'm afraid, at least for show, I am going to have to suspend you from any active duty with the specimens."
"Oh," grinned Pansy. "How utterly terrible."
"That's unreasonable," interrupted Charlie. "Her whole degree could be at risk. She didn't do anything wrong! In fact, if she had failed to Accio that train these two would be dead."
"A fact I am completely aware of. But it changes nothing."
"Yes, Weasley," agreed Pansy, elbowing him sharply in his broad ribcage. "Please don't go all white in shining armour on me. The punishment fits the crime, and I will accept it gladly."
"Really, Ms Warbeck, I must agree with Charlie- how will Miss Parkinson complete the research requirements of her course without any access to the dragons?" chimed in Professor Scamander. He seemed immune to Pansy's crippling stare, seemingly sincere in his concerns over her academics.
"A problem I understand, Professor. Yet as you told me, Pansy admitted that she may not be… present for the full year." Wynne uttered the word 'present' as if she truly meant 'capable enough.' "In which case she can carry out a literature review during her time here, as well as helping with any chores."
"Wynne, that hardly seems fair!" exclaimed Charlie, who looked at Pansy with… concern?
Wynne gave him a sickle-shaped smile.
"Talking about 'not fair,' we have yet to discuss your punishment for this outrageous display of ineptitude. I am well aware it was most likely others in your team who caused the ruckus with the unloading, and much of the fault falls upon those who failed to properly anaesthetize the Ironbelly," Wynne gave Scamander a look that could curdle blood. Rolf became increasing interested in his shoes, and his ears turned an embarrassed shade of maroon. "But it also revealed your lack of control and foresight, therefore I have no choice but to suspend your research with the drakelings."
Charlie's face looked like it was about to crumble. A muscle in his jaw carved tight shadows into his face. Despite her barely contained glee, Pansy felt a slight twitch of guilt for the Weasley- which was ridiculous, some time away from winged reptilians might be good for his health! With some effort, Charlie managed to control his emotions and gave Wynne a brisk nod of assertion.
"I understand."
"I truly am sorry, Charlie. You were doing so well with them. Your extra time during this suspension of duties shall be to assist Miss Parkinson. I trust I can rely on you both not to do anything stupid… or at all similar to Marcus' usual behaviour?"
With that, they gave Rolf an awkward goodbye as he clambered into the fireplace and Flooed away. As Wynne ushered them out of the room, Pansy couldn't help notice that she looked slightly guilty to have caused Charlie such hurt. However the silver-haired Dragon lady noticed Pansy's enquiring look and transformd her face into it's regular steel glare.
"I'm sorry."
"Hmmm?" replied Charlie, turning his aqua gaze toward her. Beneath his darken brow, his eyes were impossibly blue.
Pansy bit her tongue. She wasn't sorry. If she started to apologise now, she'd never stop, and yet…
"I'm the one who should be sorry. But thanks anyway," Charlie gave her a half smile and a half-hearted shrug. "I'll come and get you tomorrow. Soon you'll know the joys of badly written field papers and treasure the many hours of polishing metal muzzles."
"I can hardly wait."