Sitting behind the Headmaster's desk at Hogwarts was the absolute last place Severus Snape desired to be, well perhaps second last behind Azkaban, which is why he had no choice but to accept the Dark Lord's request to take the position. He sneered at the portrait of the sleeping Albus Dumbledore knowing he foresaw this and that it was all part of his cryptic scheme to bring about the end of The Dark Lord and his reign. Severus despised him for it. With a deep sigh, he put his head in his hands. The damn portrait was now the only one that believed Severus was still working on the side of The Order, against The Dark Lord. He only hoped Albus was as good as he believed himself to be, although he had his doubts. Things were so much worse this time around, Muggle-borns being rounded up and tortured, The Ministry under Death Eater control, and Amycus and Alecto Carrow being allowed anywhere near students. His colleagues now universally despised him. To top it off, he'd managed to lose track of Potter and his meddling friends. And the school year had just begun.
Glaring up at the sleeping wizard in the portrait again, "You know what they're up to, don't you?"
The portrait did not respond, and Severus rolled his eyes.
He looked up from the desk to the clock as the passageway swung open. Classes had only just begun three days ago. Who could be interrupting him at this hour?
Argus Filch stepped in. "I found this one wandering the corridors. Looks like someone may have roughed her up a bit, Sir. She refuses to speak."
Pinching the bridge of his nose with deep sigh, he looked up to see Ms Pansy Parkinson standing before his desk, chin set, nose stuck into the air, posture stiff. "It's nothing, Headmaster. I swear."
"Leave us, Argus."
Filch obediently disappeared and the passageway closed behind him.
"Sit."
The Slytherin witch took a seat on the edge of the wooden chair before his desk and watched him with narrowed eyes and a haughtiness that only she ever seemed capable of in his presence which was precisely the reason she remained one of his favorites.
His shoulders softened as he noted the redness gathered about her sage green eyes and the bruise beginning to form over her left cheekbone, partially obscured by her dark locks cropped just below. His gaze moved lower to see her tie undone and her white blouse buttons misaligned, her shoulders pulled back into such perfect posture he had no doubt someone had harshly trained it into her.
He leaned over the desk and steepled his long fingers. "Who?"
Her face hardened as she swallowed. "Draco."
His jaw clenched and gave a single nod. "He will be held accountable. You may leave, Ms Parkinson."
She stood, placing her slender fingers on the desk as she leaned toward him. "Please, Headmaster. It was my fault."
Severus pushed his bubbling disgust behind his mental walls and took a deep, slow breath. Why did they alway defend them? "Unless you struck him first, I cannot see any other acceptable explanation for such treatment."
The witch pulled away with a deep sigh. "I…I… I was pressuring him to do something. I should have stopped. He warned me. Please, Sir."
He stood, looming over his desk. "Whatever it was, that–" He gestured to her face. "Was not an acceptable response. I will deal with Mr Malfoy." He pointed to the door. "Now go to bed, Ms Parkinson."
Her eyes met his as she gave a small nod. "Thank you, Headmaster." She gathered her green cardigan about her and turned on her heel. "Have a good night, Sir."
He watched the witch as she strode out of his office with the air of the Slytherin royalty she knew she was.
Draco Malfoy was a fool.
Severus Snape was a fool. Pansy marched through the corridors back to the dungeons. He had no idea what was going on at Hogwarts under his own nose, or worse, didn't care. The Carrows were so awful and even if most of her House were spared from the worst of it, many of them were to the point of hating this place. If it weren't mandatory for them to be here, many wouldn't be. And they were only three days in. It certainly was only going to get worse.
The dungeon common room glowed with firelight. She closed the door behind her with a sigh.
A figure moved in the shadows, and as he stepped into the flickering light, Draco held a hand out to her. "Pansy. I am sorry. I don't –"
"Sod off, Draco," she hissed as she pushed past him.
"Wait! Please?" He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
Pulling herself free she glared at him. "Unless you have changed your mind, I don't want to hear it."
"No, I haven't. I just can't do it. It isn't right. You know it too."
"What choice do I have? Probably become mandatory before long, anyway. Might as well get it over with."
Draco nodded, his eyes full of sadness. They'd dulled since he'd taken The Mark. "Good night, Pansy. I really am sorry."
"Me too. I thought you cared for me." She glared at him, knowing she'd thrown salt in his wound.
He flinched. "I do," he whispered and looked away.
She sighed. "Good night, Draco." She turned on her heel and crept into the girl's dormitory to her bed. If Draco wouldn't do it, she was sure someone else would be more than willing.