Spoilers: All four books

Summary: After the death of Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy takes over his place in the
Death Eater’s inner circle. Draco’s first task is to get Hermione Granger as a pawn by
seducing her and getting her pregnant with his child. The need for siring a child is to ensure
Hermione’s permanent bond to the Dark Side.  It is not an easy task to begin with, but
emotions, pride, and Ron make things even more complicated. Worse, Voldemort has
other horrible plans for Hermione and the child which nobody knows, not even Draco.
If the plans push through, it will be the ultimate downfall of Harry Potter and the Light Side.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK
Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic
Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no
copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Please review so I’ll know if my story was able to entertain you even if for just a
little while. Flames are welcome so I can improve my story.

‘Virtù’ (the Slytherin password I used) means man’s prowess and basic human capacity
of controlling circumstances. I don’t know what language that came from. I just picked it
up from our lesson in Machiavelli in our Social Science class ages ago.

Content warning: This story is rated R for a reason. This chapter is just rated PG, but
some of the later chapters have sexual content, but still well within the bounds of an R
rating. Be reminded that the characters are older here, so they deal with mature stuff. If
you do not like to see the characters that way, then do not read this. You’ve been warned.

Dark Child

by bohemian vixen
 
 

Chapter 6
 

It was already late in the morning when Harry decided to visit Hagrid. Ron and
Hermione came along, but Ginny chose to stay behind in the common room to
finish some essays.

As the trio walked down the castle corridors towards the oak front doors, they
talked about what the emergency meeting was all about.

“They just might be talking about changing the decorations in the Great Hall,” Ron
reasoned.

Harry groaned and Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron.

“If you’re both so smart, then tell me what it’s all about!” Ron retorted, gesturing
towards Harry and Hermione.

“We’re going to ask Hagrid. That’s why we’re going to his hut,” Harry explained
in a voice he would use when talking to a five-year-old child.

“Or as a last resort, maybe we can just ask Professor McGonagall,” Hermione piped in.

Suddenly Ron’s face lit up. “Or maybe we can just ask Dumbledore. I can’t believe
both of you didn’t think of that,” Ron said with a pitying look at his friends.

Harry and Hermione were about to make a snappy comeback, but Ron’s suggestion
got them thinking. It was such a basic thing to do, but amidst all speculations, it did not
cross their minds at all.

But now Hermione was being her usual calculating self. “That’s a great idea, but it’s
easier to ask Hagrid because he’s our friend. But if we ask Professor Dumbledore, it
will seem like we’re intruding, you know. It’s like we’re meddling with other people’s
businesses,” Hermione explained.

“But if it’s about You-Know-Who, then it’s Harry’s business! At least he’s got the
right to know. But if it isn’t, then Dumbledore can just tell Harry that it’s none of his
business. It’s better than wondering,” Ron explained back.

“I hate to admit this, Ron, but I think you’re right,” Hermione said slowly, suppressing
a smile that was tugging at the corners of her lips.

Harry spoke up. “Okay, c’mon, let’s go to Dumbledore’s office and ask him.” Harry
started up in the opposite direction and sped up his walking.

But Hermione and Ron stopped in their tracks. Harry looked behind him and saw both
of them looking uncertainly at him.

“Why, what’s the matter?” Harry asked.

“Uh, Harry, I think that you should be the one to ask Professor Dumbledore.
The fewer who’ll ask him, the less it will seem like an intrusion,” Hermione said.
She obviously still had hesitations about asking the Headmaster.

“Yeah, Harry. And among us, you’re the one who has the most right to know if it’s
about You-Know-Who,” Ron explained.

Ron and Hermione intently watched Harry as he thought over the matter.

“If Dumbledore throws me out for being too nosy, I’ll get you both for this,” Harry said
lightly with a smile on his face.

“Dumbledore’s a jolly good fellow. He’ll never throw anyone out just for being too
nosy,” Ron reassured Harry.

“Unless you’re Rita Skeeter,” Hermione said with contempt. She still loathed Rita
Skeeter for all her false scoops back in fourth year. “Anyway, Harry, people shouldn’t
know that you’re asking Professor Dumbledore, coz they’ll ask you—no, rather, us—in
turn. Between Dumbledore and us, students will prefer to talk to us because you’ve got
to admit that no matter how kind Professor Dumbledore is, he’s pretty much intimidating.
I don’t know about you two, but I’m not up to explaining everything to everyone,”
Hermione continued as they started to walk to the Headmaster’s office.

“But I thought you like doing that…” Ron said seriously.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“Explaining everything to everyone. That’s why you’re a volunteer tutor and Head Girl,
right?” Ron said.

Harry tried to keep his laughter in. Ron was hopelessly tactless especially when
Hermione was involved. Maybe having his foot in his mouth was Ron’s own weird way
to show affection. But didn’t Ron see how he sometimes—no, often—upsets Hermione?

To Harry’s surprise, Hermione sighed deeply and a faraway look settled on her face.
“I-I just have a lot of things in mind lately,” she said softly, more like to herself than to
either Ron or Harry. Ron and Harry gave her odd looks. “I mean, with final exams,
graduation, and everything,” she added quickly, mentally brushing away a picture of
Malfoy’s face, which suddenly popped up in her mind. ‘Where the hell did that come
from?’ she thought.

Harry looked at her understandingly. “I guess you’re right. We have lots of things to
worry about school as it is without dealing with Voldemort—er—You-Know-Who,”
Harry said quickly upon seeing Ron’s and Hermione’s horrified expressions when they
heard him call the Dark Lord by his proper name. Personally, he wanted to call
Voldemort as Voldemort, because for Harry, calling Voldemort as You-Know-Who
was a sign of fear. He vowed to himself that he would fight, and not fear, Voldemort.

They walked in silence, greeting and smiling at the people they know who passed them
by. The trio was about to turn a corner when they bumped into Ernie Macmillan and
Hannah Abbott, both from Hufflepuff, who were leaning against the wall. Harry, Ron,
and Hermione knew Ernie and Hannah from Herbology class.

“Oh, sorry Hermione!” Hannah said frantically as she held on to Hermione’s shoulder to
keep herself from falling.

Hannah regained her balance but she looked fidgety and nervous. Ernie, who had not
been outbalanced by the collision, also looked strangely uneasy.

“Hi Harry, Ron, Hermione,” Hannah said meekly.

“Oh, hello guys! Where are you going?” Ernie said in a seemingly forced cheerful voice.

It was the trios’ turn to become uneasy. They were so near the Headmaster’s office.
Surely it must have been obvious that they were going there.

“I’m just doing rounds, you know. Part of job as Head Girl. Harry and Ron just
accompanied me,” Hermione said as convincingly as she could. “How about you?
What were you doing here?” Hermione asked that to simply change the topic, but
Ernie and Hannah did not take it too well. Hannah blushed to the up roots of her
blond hair and Ernie broke out in a nervous sweat.

Harry was beginning to think that the two of them were attacked or they might have
seen something odd and suspicious but Ernie suddenly spoke up.

“About what you saw, that is, if you’ve seen anything…” Ernie’s voice trailed off. He
turned beet red.

“Yes?” Hermione prompted.

“You see, Hermione, we—er—oh, it was just a kiss. And we’re going back to our
common room. Surely you won’t tell a teacher?” Hannah nervously asked Hermione.

“Oh…! I didn’t see anything anyway. But sure, no problem. There’s no one along the
corridor where you were—er—standing anyway,” Hermione said brightly. “Just don’t
wander around, and don’t let Professor McGonagall and the first years see you,”
Hermione added. Professor McGonagall enforced a no-loitering-inside-the-campus
rule, and a rather strange no-public-displays-of-affection-in-front-of-children rule
(most likely the children referred to were first year to third year students) to avoid
“moral degeneration”, as Professor McGonagall had put it.

Hannah smiled gratefully and Ernie sighed in relief. Then they hurriedly passed by the
trio to get away from them as fast as possible.

When Hannah and Ernie were out of earshot, Ron said, “They’ve been snogging! Too
bad I didn’t see it. Who knew that they had more to hide than we do?” Then he let out
a laugh.

Harry, whose lips were twitching earlier, joined in the laughter. “That’s some great
story you came up with,” he said to Hermione in between gasps.

“You sound just like Percy—‘I’m just doing rounds. Part of job—’ ” Ron could not
continue talking; he was laughing so hard.

Hermione rolled her eyes again at the two young men. “Oh grow up!” She threw her
hands up in frustration. “C’mon you guys. Let’s get a move on.” And Hermione walked
ahead.

Harry and Ron sobered up immediately and followed her. They had not forgotten that
Hermione was a serious and responsible Head Girl. She could take points off and worse,
maybe punish them if they really got on her nerves.

A minute later they were within proximity of a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

“Do you know the password?” Harry asked Hermione. As Head Girl, she had frequently
visited the Headmaster’s office, and Dumbledore, being the trusting man that he was, gave
the password to Hermione.

“Yes. It’s ‘toffee-chocolate éclair’. Professor Dumbledore seems to have a liking for
muggle sweets,” Hermione informed her friends.

“Yeah. I heard that he loves those muggle lemon drops,” said Ron.

Harry started to walk nearer to the gargoyle when Hermione grabbed the right sleeve
of his robes. “Wait! Wait! Harry, if Professor Dumbledore asks you how you got in,
just tell him that it’s because I gave you the password. If he gets angry about it—but I
don’t think he will, I hope—tell him that I’ll just explain everything to him,” Hermione
said, still clutching Harry’s sleeve.

“Okay, Hermione. You can let go of me now,” Harry said, and Hermione quickly released
the cloth with an “Oops, sorry!”

Harry walked towards the gargoyle. “Hey guys, I’m going in. Wait for me here.” Harry
said to Ron and Hermione. Then he turned to the entrance. “Here goes…toffee-chocolate
éclair!” Harry said to the gargoyle.

The gargoyle immediately sprung to life and moved aside to reveal the splitting wall behind.

Harry went inside and stepped onto a spiral staircase that was moving upward; as he did
so, the split wall closed behind him.

The staircase rose up in circles until it reached a polished oak door ahead. Harry lifted the
griffin-shaped brass-knocker and knocked on the door. It quietly opened and he entered
the large circular room. Harry remembered his first visit to Dumbledore’s office, when he
was back in second year, after Justin Finch-Fletchey was Petrified. He had been in here a
few times ever since then. He looked around and saw the same queer silver instruments
standing on spindle-legged tables, letting out little puffs of smoke. Lining the walls were
portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses. Behind him, Fawkes was squawking
noisily on its golden perch behind the door. Harry’s eyes settled on the huge claw-footed
desk, which was Dumbledore’s, and saw the Headmaster sitting on his high chair. Suddenly,
Harry wished he were somewhere else. What would he say to Dumbledore without sounding
nosy and intruding? Aside from that, Harry was not supposed to know the password to the
Headmaster’s office. Harry felt like he did an illegal break-in. Dumbledore was a kind,
accommodating, and understanding man, but that did not mean that Harry wanted to abuse
his kindness.

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and his light-blue eyes peered at him through his half-moon
spectacles. “Good morning, Harry. Take a seat. What can I do for you?” he asked in a
gentle, fatherly voice. Harry sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. It seemed that
Harry’s presence at the moment was perfectly natural for Dumbledore.

“Is your scar still hurting?” Dumbledore asked him urgently as soon as Harry took a seat.

“No, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Er, Professor, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m here to
ask you something…” Harry’s voice trailed off. He suddenly felt stupid. What if Ron
was right? ‘What if the faculty was just talking about changing the decorations in
the Great Hall?’ he wildly thought for a moment.

But Dumbledore seemed to have an uncanny ability to read one’s mind. “It’s about
the emergency faculty meeting I called for earlier, isn’t it? I think you’re wondering if
it has any to do with Voldemort. In fact, the whole student body might be wondering
the same thing as well,” Dumbledore said.

“Um, yes, Professor,” Harry replied. “That was what I wanted to ask, if you don’t
mind. And yes, the whole school is wondering about the same thing,” he clarified.

Dumbledore stroked his long beard thoughtfully. “Of course Harry. I don’t mind.
But there’s really not much to know. We both know the danger that we’ve all been
in since Voldemort’s rise to power two years ago, Harry. I’m sad to say that there
isn’t much improvement favouring our side,” Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded imperceptibly and listened intently to every word the Headmaster
was saying.

“But it doesn’t necessarily mean that things got worse. I just think it’s important to
take necessary precautions against possible courses of Voldemort’s actions. Cliché
as it may sound, Harry, but it’s better to expect the unexpected, and prepare for it,”
Dumbledore continued.

Harry felt that he should not bother Dumbledore any further. The kind old man looked
weary and far older than ever despite of the light tone of his voice. Harry stood up from
his seat and was about to say goodbye when Dumbledore said, “You children have
enough troubles of your own with school and your personal lives. Let old people like
me do the worrying. I have enough wrinkles already; another one will not make much
difference,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle from his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

Harry smiled at Dumbledore’s joke before speaking. “Thank you, professor. And I’m
sorry for the bother. I’ve got to get back to the common room now. Good day,” Harry
said. He felt that Dumbledore would not say anything more to him about the matter.

The Headmaster smiled. “Good day to you too, Harry. Just wait for my announcements
at lunchtime,” he said. “And please tell Ms. Granger that I don’t mind her giving you the
password to my office. I trust her judgement,” Dumbledore added.

Harry walked out the door and stepped on the stationary spiral staircase, which revved
downwards as soon as his foot touched a step. As the staircase moved in circles, he
could not help but think that Dumbledore knew more… but Harry had always felt safe
when Dumbledore was around.  If Dumbledore said that there was nothing to worry
about, Harry would take his word for it. Besides, Hogwarts was the safest place he
could be in.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A good half an hour after Harry had left, Dumbledore, sitting on his high chair, was still
mulling over what he said to the young wizard. What Dumbledore said to Harry was not
the whole truth. But then again, the Headmaster didn’t know the whole truth himself. He
didn’t understand what happened earlier. It was not an attack, or maybe it was—attempted
on Fawkes, it seemed. But why only Fawkes? Or was it a message? But about what?  He
did not know. He only knew two things—one, it was the work of Voldemort; two,
Voldemort had access to Hogwarts. The snake was enough evidence. If it was not,
Harry’s scar had hurt; Severus’s Dark Mark had glowed clearer than ever.

He sighed. He wondered if anyone noticed that he felt so tired, so old…and at times,
so jaded. He worked hard on covering it up. Dumbledore knew that many people
trusted him and depended on him for help. He wouldn’t want them to know that, lately,
he was just as unsure of what was happening as anyone. It was not a matter of pride.
Dumbledore was not the type of person who was afraid to admit his own weaknesses.
Rather, it was a matter of the sense of hope which people had when he was around.
The present was the calm before the storm, and danger could strike unexpectedly from
anywhere. Dumbledore did not have the heart to deprive the people of the hope that
they were not fighting in vain.

Out of all the people Dumbledore wanted to protect, he wanted to protect most the
Hogwarts students. The students were young, and had the right to be carefree and
light-hearted. They were the least deserving to be subjected to horror. He wanted the
adults to shoulder the task of ensuring safety, so as to spare the students from fear
and terror.

That was why Dumbledore vowed to himself that he would take all necessary
precautions to make Hogwarts safer, so life for the students could continue as
normally as possible.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The students gathered in the Great Hall around noon. It was lunch time already. Plates
of sumptuous food and goblets of refreshing drinks appeared on the table. Everyone was
about to take a spoonful of some dish into their plates when Dumbledore stood up from
his seat at the staff table and loudly clapped his hands. The Great Hall quieted down except
for a few murmurs from students who started talking in low voices.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and everyone fell silent. “Before we indulge ourselves in
this delicious meal, I have a few announcements to make.” He paused, and every pair of
eyes was fixed on him.

“As you all know, classes are suspended today. I was occupied, so I failed to tell your
Head of Houses to inform you earlier at breakfast the reason why. Because of that, I’m
afraid that rumours are circulating around school. Rumours of attack, and maybe of
even worse things.” Dumbledore looked around gravely. No one stirred as yet.

“There is no need to worry, even though I’m not denying that we should always be in
the lookout. The faculty meeting held earlier is just for discussing further safety precautions.
We can never be too safe, so we are putting our efforts together to make Hogwarts safer
than it already is. Everything is under control,” Dumbledore said, forcing himself to make
a small smile for the benefit of everyone. “Now, make good use of your free time today—
maybe catch up on your lessons, do your homework, read for future topics, or have good
clean fun,” he continued lightly.

Immediately, almost all students sighed with relief, except for students at the Slytherin
table, almost all of whom were looking sulky.

“Regular classes will resume tomorrow,” Dumbledore said, which was met by a few groans
of protest. “Now, now, we shouldn’t forget about school, even though a day-off is perfectly
enjoyable.” He directed his comment to the protesting students. “That’s it for announcements!
We can now start the satisfying task of eating this wonderful meal,” Dumbledore said with a
clap of his hands.

All students, and even the teachers, started to help themselves with food and began eating.
Soon, the Great Hall was filled with laughter, talk, and the clattering sounds of tableware.
The mood was definitely lighter after Dumbledore’s assurance.

Dumbledore looked on at the merry scene and ate quietly. No one seemed to notice just
how grave the Headmaster looked, except for Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall—
the only faculty who knew the complete and absolute truth—who kept shooting concerned
looks at him. Dumbledore caught both their eyes and forced another smile just to assure
them that he felt fine.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco didn’t feel like eating anything at all. He was hungry a few minutes before, but after
Dumbledore’s announcement, he felt that he suddenly lost his appetite. He felt annoyed
and slightly mad. He didn’t know exactly who or what he was angry and annoyed with…
maybe it was with Dumbledore’s statement that “There is no need to worry…everything
is under control.” Draco also felt disappointed and frustrated.

He was not the only one. Most of the Slytherins were sharing his same sentiments. An
angry and disappointed murmur travelled the Slytherin table.

“Nothing exciting ever happens here. My father could kick Dumbledore’s ass,” Goyle
said while stuffing his face with filet mignon.  Crabbe grunted in agreement.

Draco fleetingly thought how Goyle could make a gourmet dish like filet mignon seem like
chicken feed with the way he was eating it. Then, his attention was caught by Millicent.

“When will the Dark Lord attack Hogwarts and rid this school of mudbloods?” Millicent
asked to no one in particular.

Draco didn’t care to make a remark. His eyes wandered to the other tables and saw
students laughing and talking happily. His eyes then focused on the Gryffindor table and
saw the sickening trio—Granger, Weasley, and Potter—with happy smiles on their
faces. Then Draco’s eyes fixed back on his table, which was filled with sulking students.
‘Stupid Gryffindors! Stupid people!!! You fools!!! How naïve can you get?’ he
thought resentfully. He suddenly stood up from his seat, which was the head of the table.

“Where are you going? You haven’t eaten yet,” Crabbe said through a mouthful of food.
Most of the Slytherins looked at Draco.

“Back to the dorm. I suddenly lost my appetite with all the disgusting things around
here,” he said with a gesture of his hand towards the other house tables.

“No one will be there. Everyone’s here,” Goyle said before gulping down the juice
in his goblet.

“I don’t mind,” was Draco’s reply. ‘Better that way,’ he added to himself.

“Suit yourself,” Goyle said with a shrug as Draco walked toward the door of the
Great Hall.

Draco stopped for a moment at the door of the Great hall and looked back at Goyle.
“I always do,” Draco said loudly, and he stepped out of the Great Hall.

Then he walked slowly down the empty corridors, frustrated with the fact that the
Dark Lord kept to his original plan to cause a distraction, and nothing more. It was
indeed a great plan—distract Dumbledore, direct his attention to Hogwarts and attack
somewhere else—somewhere just as important. It would be soon, and unexpected.
It was, as usual, another one of the Dark Lord’s excellent schemes. But Draco
wished that in the very least, Nagini—Voldemort’s ‘pet’ snake—have bitten Dumbledore
or any of the filthy Mudbloods around school. Nagini could have done it, but based on
what Draco saw at the Great Hall, he highly doubted it. Oh well, the Dark Lord always
did what was best according to plan. Lord Voldemort could have been successful for a
long time now, if only the nuisance Potter had not gotten in the way.

Draco was already at the dark dungeons leading to the Slytherin dormitory when he
heard footsteps behind him. He stopped, turned and saw Pansy running after him. A
moment later Pansy caught up with him.

“Draco, what’s wrong? Why didn’t you eat lunch?” Pansy’s eyes were filled with
concern. She placed a hand on Draco’s left sleeve.

“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier to Crabbe? I can’t eat after that Dumbledore’s
disgusting ‘don’t worry’ speech,” Draco said irritably as he shook off Pansy’s hand
and walked ahead of her.

Either Pansy was really unbelievably dense or just relentlessly determined, because
she ignored Draco’s irritation and gesture and continued talking to him. “Yeah. I sure
wish Lord Voldemort would get it over with and kill all the stupid Muggles and
Mudbloods in the whole world,” she said spitefully.

Again, Draco stopped abruptly and turned to look at Pansy, this time with an expression
of deep anger on his face. He walked back to Pansy and roughly grabbed her right arm.
His fingers dug deep in her skin, and Pansy winced in pain.

“Draco, wha-what? Let me go! You’re hurting me!” Pansy shrieked as a sharp pain
clawed at her wrist. She was struggling but Draco was too strong for her. His grip was
too tight.

“For once, shut up! Dammit!” Draco muttered as he dragged her towards the Slytherin
dormitory. The tone of Draco’s voice was laced with venom. Pansy immediately stopped
struggling. Seconds later they reached a stretch of bare, damp stone wall—the entrance
of the Slytherin common room. “Virtù!” Draco said, and a stone door concealed in the
wall slid open wide. Draco quickly went inside, still dragging Pansy by the arm.

As soon as they got in and the stone door closed behind them, Draco released his grip
on Pansy with a slight throwing gesture. Pansy fell back on a high-backed chair with a
painful impact from her momentum.

“Dammit, Pansy! Don’t talk about these things when we aren’t in here or at the Slytherin
table! Don’t forget that in general, this school is against Lord Voldemort! We don’t know
if there are spies in this school!” Draco hissed as he turned to look at Pansy.

Pansy looked at him in surprise. “But why? Nobody else was there down at the dungeons
to hear us. That is Slytherin territory. We’ll be heard only by the other Slytherins and Snape,”
Pansy reasoned.

Draco’s face darkened. “Slytherin isn’t necessarily equivalent to Dark Side, Pansy. There
are Slytherins who aren’t supporters of the Dark Lord. Sure, they’re neutral, but I’ve got a
strong hunch that they keep quiet because they’re outnumbered. One of those few stupid
people is Blaise Zabini,” Draco explained in his usual low voice.

“What do we care about those Slytherin minorities? They don’t have much say on the
matter, anyway,” Pansy reasoned again.

“We aren’t sure if they aren’t more what they seem, Pansy. And as for Snape! What
makes you think he isn’t working for the other side?” Draco exclaimed exasperatedly,
the sound reverberating from the walls.

“Snape favours Slytherins! You’re his favourite student! He always gives us points and
takes points off from the lousy Gryffindors!” Pansy defended her favourite teacher.

“Have you ever heard of deceit, Pansy?” Draco sneered at her.

“Draco! Cut it out! You’re being paranoid!” Pansy exclaimed as she stood from the
chair to face Draco. Obviously, she had not thought twice before talking. All other
Slytherins—and for that matter, the whole student body, except for the nauseating
trio—dared not to raise their voices to Draco if they knew what was good for them.

But for now Draco let it pass. He wanted so badly to tell her that Snape was a spy, a
traitor. Snape used to be a Death Eater but for some reason, he turned over to the other
side to work for no less than Dumbledore.  As he looked at Pansy, he wondered if she
would finally understand the necessity of secrecy and discretion once she found about
Snape. But if Draco told Pansy about Snape, Pansy would know that he knew a lot of
things that they were not supposed to know…and from there, it would be easy for other
people, and even for Pansy, to figure out that he was already a Death Eater. He was
sure that Pansy would become an official follower of the Dark Lord after graduation,
but that did not mean that she had to know about him now. No, he would not tell
Pansy anything, not even about Snape. Draco did not think that Pansy could understand
and be quiet about a huge secret.

It was a pity, really. Although Pansy was not stunning or gorgeous or angelic-looking,
she was pretty with her sharp, strong features. People would have noticed that she could
look more than decent if she did not scowl at them all the time. As Pansy reserved her
best smiles for Draco, he had the pleasure to see her beauty. He often wondered how
someone gifted with dominatrix good looks could actually be a valley girl. What a shame.
‘If only she had brains, even at least half of the brains of that Grang—anyone
smart,’  Draco thought.

Draco was quiet, and the expression on his face was calculating. Pansy must have
thought that Draco was really angry at her and was thinking hexes to use on her because
she spoke up in a soft, timid voice. “I-I’m sorry about that. It’s just that-you know, I
don’t want you to worry yourself out thinking over things that are uncertain,” she said,
frightened yet sincere.

Draco waved a hand dismissively. “Forget that we even had this conversation. Remember
just one thing. Discretion,” he said coldly. Pansy nodded meekly. Satisfied, Draco turned
on his heels and went to the boys’ dormitory for his room, leaving Pansy all alone in the
common room.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pansy looked sadly after Draco. Once again, she ended up looking like a fool—as
usual—in front of him. She sat on a high-backed chair and hugged her legs to her chest,
resting her chin on her knees. She looked forlornly at the fireplace, the tears threatening
to fall from her eyes. But she did her best to hold them in.

She sighed. She knew that Draco thought of her as an airhead. She had accepted the
fact that she was not particularly bright, but she was not as stupid as Draco believed
her to be. She just ignored the fact that he took her for granted. Most of the time he was
politely cold towards her, but there were times when he would use sharp words on her.
They stung, horribly, but she let them pass. She was not stupid enough not to know that
Draco was pushing her away all the time. But then again, maybe she really was stupid
because…

…she loved him.

She liked him the first time they met, back in first year. She realized she was beginning to
love him when he was bitten by a hippogriff back in third year, during one Care of Magical
Creatures class. She was surprised with the worry, panic, and fear she felt when she saw
Draco bleeding all over his robes. The tenderness she felt for him caught her off-guard.

It was just bad luck for her that Draco Malfoy seemed incapable of loving. Even if he
was, Pansy wasn’t successful in making him fall for her. For seven years, she was by his
side, but she never got past beyond those cold eyes. Sure, they were each other’s dates
in all school functions, and they went out once in a while. But when they were together,
Draco was distant. Sure, they slept together sometimes. It meant the world to Pansy,
but for Draco, it was no more than causal sex. And what made it more difficult for her
was the fact that Draco slept around with lots of women. Words could not describe the
unbearable pain she felt just thinking about Draco with another woman intimately. It made
her want to throw up.

‘How ironic. Pansy Parkinson, the school’s resident bitch, is reduced to a silly
lovesick girl,’ she thought bitterly. She hated feeling this way, but Draco made her feel
it. ‘If only people can see me now…but they can’t, and I will not let them.’ That
was at least a little bit of consolation for her.

She abruptly stopped her sad thoughts as she stood up from the seat. She decided to
go back to the Great Hall and join her friends to have a little bit of fun—make lives
miserable for Gryffindors, maybe— instead of wallowing in self-pity here, alone. Once
again, a cold, hard expression settled on her face.

But not before a single, stubborn tear rolled down her cheek.
 
 
 

A/N: If you’re wondering what the hell Pansy is doing here, emoting her heart out, it’s
because she’ll play a key role in this fic. I don’t like it when antagonists are depicted as
two-dimensional bad persons. I like my antagonists to be depicted as humans while
still retaining their bad side as the predominant aspect of their character. As for Ernie
and Hannah, I just included them as a favour to my friend. She said that I should give
backgrounds for other characters as well if I’m going to write a book-length fic, as I
will do.

I made Pansy pretty because I don’t think Draco would date a girl who isn’t. I think
the reason why she was depicted as ugly in the books because she was always scowling.
IMHO.
 

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Chapter 7