FIC: A Million Ways to be Cruel - Part 1
Title: A Million Ways to be Cruel
Author: icicle33
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Harry/Ginny, Ginny/Draco, Pansy/Blaise, Pansy/Ginny, Luna/Neville (unrequited), Ron/Hermione (and perhaps a couple surprise pairings that I don’t want to give away)
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: #3 punishing an ex by seducing their new partner and/or the person they're in love with
Content Information/Warnings: Lots of sexual context of all kinds-het, slash, and femmeslash, adult language, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse as well as implied drug use in one scene, dealing with post war trauma, Slytherin schemes, infidelity, and basically showcasing some of the most dysfunctional relationships ever.
Summary: Revenge is a dish best served cold, and as Harry and Ginny find out the hard way, you should never cross a poisonous snake. Harry breaks Draco’s heart, and with Pansy’s help, they decide to implement a twisted revenge scheme to break Potter’s heart. Of course, as always, things are more complicated than they seem, and no one ever escapes a revenge ploy unscathed.
Author's Notes: A very big thank you to the lovely featherxquill, for not only running this awesome fest, but for also being incredibly patient with me and my long fic. Also, a special thank you to my beta AB. Without you, I don’t think this fic would have made much sense. Thank you for yelling at me and convincing me to change things that needed to be changed. You are amazing. Any errors that remain are mine. To the prompter, you wanted a seduction/revenge fic, so I hope you like this.
Last thing, this fic takes place in a slight AU, which is mostly consistent with DH; however, the new wizarding world is a lot darker than in cannon. In many ways, this is a rather twisted 8th year fic.
“The man who seeks revenge digs two graves.” ~Ken Kesey
~8~8~8~
“Ginny, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m kissing you, silly.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you. You know that. I thought you understood.”
“I do understand, Ginny, but that doesn’t change anything.”
“I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you. I always have and always will, but I can’t do this.”
“Why? Why not?” Ginny demanded, her eyes filling with tears now. “I already told you, Malfoy meant nothing to me. And what happened in France. I can’t take that back. I love you. Only you.”
“Ginny-”
“No,” Ginny begged, her voice desperate now. “Don’t do this. I NEED you.”
“I-I”
“Please give me another chance.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Why? Just give me a reason.”
“ You’re not you anymore, Ginny.”
“Of course, I am. We share a soul. You told me that.”
“I-I”
“Please…I’ll do anything. I can change.”
“You can’t. It’s too late...and there’s someone else. I’m sorry.”
“No. No. No.”
~8~8~8~
19 May 2000
Ginny opened her eyes slowly and gazed at the ceiling above her. It had been charmed to an iridescent shade of silver, and green serpents slithered across the ceiling, coiling around each other and hissing every so often. It really was quite an impressive display of magic and much better than last week’s ‘Slytherins do it better…in bed’, which Pansy had charmed in flashing pink letters-but it certainly didn’t do anything to help her headache. If anything, the hissing serpents made her feel even more disoriented; the room was spinning slightly, but not rapidly enough to make her sick just yet.
She sat up carefully, leaning stiffly against the soft leather couch and started rubbing the temples of her forehead.
“Merlin, I need another drink.”
“You’ve been cut off, princess,” said a pale dark haired boy, who Ginny recognised as a Slytherin fifth year or maybe he was a fourth year. He placed his cold, clammy hand on her thigh, and if she had any idea where her wand actually was, she would have cursed his pervy little hand right off.
“Says who?” Ginny spat, narrowing her eyes at the younger boy and slapping his hand away.
“ Miss Pansy, of course, I’m to watch you on her orders and not give you anything else to drink.”
“Really?” Ginny asked drily. “And what’s in it for you?”
The other boy frowned and paused. “Well, erm…she did promise not to hex me…as much.”
“What a brilliant prize.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Come here,” she instructed, pulling the boy closer to her. “If you bring me a bottle of firewhisky or some other type of hard alcohol,” she leaned in closer to him and licked her lips. “I’ll offer you something better, much better.”
“Like what?” Obviously, this daft boy was not taking the hint.
“I’ll fuck your brains out, you little fucking pervert,” she purred, making sure to use her most sultry tone. “But first... my bottle.”
“Right away.”
The boy scurried away and Ginny leaned back on the couch again, closing her eyes in order to avoid the ostentatious ceiling. Boys were just too fucking easy.
Within minutes, the boy returned and handed Ginny an unopened bottle of gin.
“What the hell is this?” Ginny scowled darkly at the younger boy and he recoiled.
“It’s the best I could do, Miss Weasley. All the firewhisky is gone. It’s being rationed now, Miss.” The boy said, now visibly trembling under Ginny’s pointed glare.
“How is that my problem?” Ginny narrowed her eyes further, her blue eyes like ice. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I-I...my apologies. It’s a Muggle liquor just as strong as firewhisky?”
“Just as strong?” Ginny hissed. “Are you sure?”
“Stronger, Miss,” the boy insisted, “stronger.”
Ginny seemed satisfied and ushered the boy away. “It’ll do…I suppose. Now, leave me alone.”
“But what about -”
“Later, now scram before I tell Pansy what a filthy little house traitor you are.”
The Slytherin boy gulped loudly and ran off before Ginny even finished opening her newest prize.
“To love,” Ginny said dejectedly, raising the entire bottle in a toast. She took a large gulp and winced. It was foul; the harsh liquid burned as it went down her throat and smelt strangely of pine trees, but it would have to do. Sodding Ministry rations. Besides, she wanted to forget and needed answers.
Perhaps she would find some answers at the bottom of this bottle.
~8~8~8~
30 August 1999
“Harry, what are you doing here?”
A blur of dark hair and hard limbs was embracing her, hard.
“Oh well, I heard you were coming home today, and I wanted to be here.” He paused for a second, still squeezing her tightly. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure, Harry,” Ginny said, “but do you think you could let me go. You’re suffocating me.”
“Sorry, Gin. I’m just so happy you’re home.”
“Right,” Ginny replied, avoiding Harry’s eyes. At one point in time, she would have given anything to have Harry waiting for her at the train station. Now, she just wished for things that no longer existed-things that she could never get back.
“It’s good to see you, Gin,” Harry said brightly. He finally released her and smiled at her, showing off his big goofy grin.
“You too, Harry. You too.”
Without even asking, he grabbed her luggage and she nodded in gratitude. She wasn’t used to having people cater to her, especially not in France. The French hadn’t been particularly kind to her. She shifted back and forth in place, lazily resting her weight on her back foot. When did it get so difficult to talk to Harry?
“You cut your hair,” he said breaking the looming silence. He leaned in closer to her and wrapped his finger around one of her short curls.
“Erm...yeah.” She shook her head gently, tossing her bright curls, and then ran a hand through her chin length hair. “It was hot in France. This is just easier.”
“I like it.” Harry looked as if he yearned to reach out and touch her again but thankfully decided against it.
“Thanks.” She paused for a second and bit on the corner of her lip. She really needed to stop that habit or she was going to be stuck with disproportionate lips.
“Harry,” she said slowly finally locking eyes with him. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but where’s Ron?” His green eyes were kind, as usual, but they had a hidden lassitude behind them that had not been there before the war.
“Oh, he’s just pulling the car around. Kinglsey lent us one of the Ministry cars to pick you up.” He shrugged his shoulders, which Ginny noticed, were still a tad thin, but his face now had a roundness that had been lacking the last time she saw him. All those months ago, he had been barely bones, a skeleton with a mop of untidy hair and piecing green eyes. Clearly, living with Ron had positive effects on his nourishment at least.
“Gin?” Harry said, squeezing her shoulder now. “Are you even listening to me? You look like you’re a million miles away.”
“Sorry.” She pursed her lips and frowned. “I’m just tired that’s all. Can you tell me again?”
“Sure,” he said, with a slight smirk, “Ron and I are in Auror training now. Kinglsey gave us a by even though we didn’t take our NEWTs. We wanted you to be safe. That’s all.” He paused and looked serious, his soft features darkening. “I’m sure you heard about what’s been going on. All the extra precautions.”
He shifted her heavy bag to his other shoulder, and she couldn’t help but return his faint smile. At least some things never change. Harry might have defeated the darkest wizard of all time, but he still forgets he’s a wizard. She cast a quick lightening charm under her breath.
“Ah, I see.”
“I thought you knew, Gin,” he said, now starting to walk towards the exit sign. “I told you in my letters.”
“Right, of course.” Ginny squeezed Harry’s shoulder reassuringly and tried her best to offer a real smile. There was a time when smiling had come naturally to her; now, it was almost painful-but she didn’t have the heart to tell him that she never opened any of his letters.
“I’m happy for you, Harry.”
“Thanks, Gin!” He turned around and beamed at her. “You won’t believe how excited Ron is to have you home. He’s been talking about it all week.”
Ginny tried to return Harry’s smile, but his enthusiasm was already wearing on her. It was going to be a long day.
~8~8~8~
“Gin, it’s so great to have you home.”
“Thanks, Ron, it’s…it’s nice to be home.”
Ever since the train station, Ron hadn’t stopped hugging her either. She had spent the whole drive home, terrified that they were going to crash, since Ron was driving with only one arm. Thank Merlin that Harry had assured her the car had Anti-collision Charms placed on it. If not, she might have bit all the way through her already swollen lip.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything? You must be starving after your long trip.”
She smirked at her brother. Ron had always been protective of her.
“No, thank you, though. I’m knackered.”
“Alright, Gin, get some sleep.” He paused and ran a hand through his longer hair. Ron had always kept his hair short and neat, on mum’s orders, of course, but now his hair had grown long enough to curl up at the ends, just behind his large ears. Apparently, Harry’s habits were rubbing off on Ron as well.
“Harry’s been staying in your room, though. I set up Percy’s old room, just in case you didn’t want to stay with him.”
“NO!” she shrieked. “I mean…not tonight. I wouldn’t want to wake him.”
“Right,” Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. Luckily, he had never been the most perceptive of her brothers.
She started making her way up the stairs, but stopped when Ron called out to her.
“Oi Ginny…you are coming to visit Mum tomorrow, right?”
Before turning around to face her brother, Ginny sighed heavily. She hadn’t wanted to get into a fight with him so soon.
“No,” she said firmly, “I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean no?” Ron walked over to the bottom of the stairs and crossed his arms, his freckled face, already starting to redden at the cheeks.
“I have a lot to do tomorrow, Ron.”
“Like what?”
Ginny sighed again and blew her loose curls out of her face. “I have to pack and go shopping for school books.”
“Ginny!” Ron’s entire face was red now; she had to bite down on her tongue to keep herself from laughing. He looked like a giant freckled tomato.
“Ron, let’s talk about this tomorrow. I don’t want to fight.”
“Don’t want to fight?” Ron spat, “Gin, how could you? I thought you were staying here.” He looked as if he were on the verge of tears. “Don’t you want to be with me, Gin? I haven’t seen you since…since, you know-”
She quickly climbed back down the stairs and threw her arms around her favourite brother’s back. “Ron, I love you,” she whispered, rubbing circles down his back. “So much. This has nothing to do with you.” She squeezed him tighter and buried her face in his shoulder, like she had done when she was a little girl.
“I just…can’t be here anymore…not with everything that’s happened.”
“But-I need you,” he whispered, his voice hitching.
“Oh Ron,” she said, desperately fighting back her own tears, “you don’t. You have Harry and Hermione. And Auror training.”
Ron started stroking her hair now, gently, and wrapping his fingers in her loose curls, just as Dad used to do. “But what about, Mum? She’s asked about you.”
“I doubt that,” she replied, her voice strained. “Ron-I know you don’t want to hear this, but Mum’s gone. She’s just not the same. Not since-”
“I know, I know…not since Dad…Percy…and Fred.” Tears were falling from his blotchy eyes now, streaming down his face and halting on his pronounced freckles as if they were smooth pebbles in a river.
“Ron,” she said gently, wiping his large tears and carefully hiding her own, “you can’t blame yourself. They’re gone…and it’s no one’s fault. And Mum she’s just broken.”
“No!” Ron insisted. “She’s getting better. I know it.”
“Really?” Ginny asked, removing herself from her brother’s tight embrace. She tilted her head up and stared him straight in the eyes. “Is she still calling you, Fred?”
Ron looked down at the floor and didn’t respond.
“She is…isn’t she?”
“Sometimes,” Ron admitted reluctantly.
“Ron, I know you love, Mum. I do too, but you have to let her go. Let her get help. We all loved Dad, Percy, and Fred.” She swallowed loudly and knew that she would probably regret saying this, but she couldn’t keep quiet any longer and watch her brother suffer like this.
“Our mother,” she said firmly, “has forgotten that even though she lost her husband and two children…she still has five other children who are very much ALIVE. We lost them too, you know.”
Ron snapped his head up and looked at Ginny with wide, blazing eyes; he looked absolutely livid.
“Take. That. Back,” he snarled, his large nostrils flaring.
“NO!” Ginny shouted back, shoving him away; she felt like a seven-year-old again, fighting with Ron and resorting to blows since he wasn’t allowed to retaliate, rather than a grown woman of eighteen. The only difference was that this time, their parents weren’t around to break up the fight.
She ran up the stairs, ignoring Ron’s pointed bellows and ran into her room, technically Percy’s room, slamming and locking the door behind her.
~8~8~8~
31 August 1999
Pansy stormed into Draco’s bedroom and opened all of his curtains, black leather, how utterly predictable.
“Draco, for Salazar’s sake, will you stop wallowing and suck it up, already?”
“No,” Draco cried petulantly and hid underneath his thick, purple silk comforter. “I’m not wallowing.”
Pansy put down her purse and cloak on a nearby chair, and then placed her arms on her hips. She was not in the mood to deal with Draco’s brooding today.
“Get up…NOW…before I banish that comforter and you have to explain to your mother why you lost her Japanese silk bedspread.”
“Gods, Pansy, you are so annoying,” Draco whinged, still hiding underneath the covers, only a few strands of his pale hair visible. He had never been a morning person, much to Pansy’s amusement who was always up with the sun.
“Go away!”
“I’m going to count to three, darling…1 2...”
“Fine, fine.” Draco unburied himself from the comforter and faced Pansy, his white blond hair sticking up in all directions
“What is it that you want, Parkinson?” Draco snapped, crossing his arms and scowling at her.
“Darling,” Pansy said with a large grin, “that is no way to talk to your oldest friend. I merely came over to check on your well-being.”
“Uh…huh.”
“Seriously, love.” Pansy sat down on Draco’s bed and bent over to kiss him on the forehead in greeting. “Ugh…you reek of stale alcohol.” She backed away from him, her arms flailing and scrunched her nose. “Don’t tell me you’re still drunk?”
“Certainly not,” Draco sneered through gritted teeth. “Now bugger off! I want to sleep.”
“It’s after twelve, Draco Malfoy, you cannot go back to sleep.” Pansy plopped down on the bed next to him, laying her head on his hard chest.
“Get off me you, slag.”
“No, I’m comfy.”
“Well, I’m not. You’re heavy.”
“How dare you?” Pansy gasped, pretending to be affronted.
“Pan-sy-”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll make you get off me, you wench.”
Draco flipped her over and starting tickling her, furiously and relentlessly.
“Stop, stop!” Pansy squealed in between fits of giggles. “Stop it you…scoundrel.”
“Give in!”
“Never!”
“Give in.”
“No,” Pansy cried petulantly, tears of laughter streaming down her face.
“You leave me no choice then.” Draco stopped tickling her, and once Pansy let out a sigh of relief, he started mussing up her hair.
“Not the hair! Not the hair!”
“Say it…”
“Fine, mercy. Mercy!” Pansy shrieked. “Just leave my poor hair alone.”
Draco released her and sat up looking rather pleased with himself and laughed. Some best friend.
“Draco Malfoy,” Pansy said, narrowing her eyes at him and running her hands desperately through her knotted hair, “you really are a sadistic prick. I love how the only way to make you smile is to see someone else in misery.”
Draco shrugged his shoulders and smirked at her, his grey eyes utterly amused. “What can I say? It runs in the family.”
“Hmmph.”
He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his wand. He muttered a spell that Pansy was unfamiliar with, but once she looked in the nearby mirror and saw her hair return to its former perfect state, she was satisfied.
“You’re welcome,” he added cheekily.
“Oh, get stuffed.”
“Now, now, darling. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. What is that you want?”
“School starts tomorrow, Draco, and I insist that you accompany me shopping.”
She patted her newly styled hair and checked her makeup in the mirror. Draco arched a fair eyebrow at her but didn’t respond.
“Come on, love,” Pansy insisted, pouting her lips at her friend, “I need your guidance and brilliant fashion sense.”
Draco frowned for a moment and pursed his lips. Pansy didn’t dare interrupt him because she knew that was Draco for ‘I’m considering it’.
“I suppose that’s true,” he said, “but I’m really not feeling up to it today, Pans. We’ll go next week.”
“Draco,” Pansy said slowly, “don’t tell me you’re still hung up on Potter.”
“I am NOT hung up on Potter!”
“Just because he dumped you, darling, does not mean that you should shut yourself away in your room,” Pansy said kindly, patting Draco on the head.
“Parkinson,” Draco spat, that angry vein in his forehead bulging, “I am not your pet crup. Do NOT pet me.” He crossed his arms firmly across his chest and narrowed his eyes into thin slits. “And…Potter did NOT dump me. I ended things with him.”
Pansy chuckled to herself and rolled her eyes. Sometimes, boys were rather ridiculous. “Right, you keep telling yourself that.”
“It’s true,” Draco insisted.
“Even if it is,” Pansy agreed calmly, “get over it. We’re going back to school tomorrow, and for once, Potter won’t be there to fuck things up for us.”
“I suppose, you’re right.”
“I’m always right. Now, get yourself together,” Pansy ordered, getting up from Draco’s bed and grabbing her personal belongings. “I’ll be back for you in two hours…and you better be ready.”
“Anything you say, Mother,” Draco replied snidely.
“Two hours, Malfoy,” she repeated. “And don’t forget about the curfew. We’re no longer allowed out after dark.”
“But we are the dark.”
Pansy chuckled but didn’t respond. As soon as Pansy let herself out of his room, thinking she was no longer watching, he buried himself under the covers again.
~8~8~8~
“Har-I mean Potter, get your scrawny arse back in bed.”
“I do not have a scrawny arse, Malfoy.”
“Fine,” Draco said, burying his head on Harry’s pillow, “get your hot arse over here. I’m cold and you’re like a human blanket.”
“What are you on about, Malfoy?”
“Let me say it in idiot Gryffindor for you…Potter, You-Bed-Now.”
Potter chuckled deeply, but did not give into Draco’s request. Instead, he started rummaging around the room looking for his scattered clothing. Suddenly, Draco was wide awake.
“Potter…” Draco whinged.
“Don’t whinge, Malfoy,” Potter corrected. “You’re not a girl.” He paused for a second and smirked at Draco. “Even if you do scream like one…in bed.”
“Shut up, Potter. Malfoys do not whinge,” Draco protested, pouting his full lips at the other boy. “It’s undignified. And you’re one to talk about screaming in bed. Last night, you were all...oh, Draco, you rock my world. Oh, Draco, you really are the Slytherin sex god.”
“Anyways,” Potter said, ignoring his last comment, “I need to get going.”
“What do you mean?” Draco asked, his voice much higher pitched than he would have liked. He was now sitting up in bed and staring straight at Potter.
“I thought we had plans.”
“Oh,” Potter said frowning, “sorry about that, Malfoy. I must have forgotten. Ginny’s coming home tomorrow, so I have to help Ron clean and run some errands.”
“Ah, the prodigal She-Weasel is returning,” Draco said, smirking widely at Potter and cocking one eyebrow. “You must be thrilled.”
“Don’t call her that,” Potter snapped, “And I am thrilled.” Potter ran a hand through his poor excuse for hair and continued searching for his wayward sock.
“That’s fine,” Draco said, yawning. “I’m sure I can find some way to entertain myself until you’re free.”
“Errrr,” Potter mumbled, now biting down on his bottom lip. “I won’t be free today.”
“Pity.” Draco frowned and licked his lips. “That’s disappointing, but I’m sure I can wait until tomorrow…if I must.”
“Errr…I won’t be free then either.”
“Alright,” Draco said, now raising both eyebrows at Potter. “When then…oh Chosen One?”
“My schedule’s going to be pretty tight now, Malfoy, with Auror training starting and all.”
“What are you saying?” Draco demanded, now rolling out of bed and not caring that he was completely starkers.
“Come on, Malfoy,” Potter said, “don’t make me spell it out for you.”
“I think you need to.”
Potter sighed loudly and crossed his arms. “Seriously, Malfoy, you are a real piece of work. I thought were just having fun.”
“We were…I mean are,” Draco insisted. “Then why would you want to stop?”He walked over and put his arms around Potter’s back and started blowing on his neck, making sure to run his tongue against the most sensitive part, right below Potter’s ear.
“Well, you’re going back to school and now that Ginny’s back-”
Draco stopped licking Potter’s neck and pushed him away harder than he had intended. “So this is about that redheaded trollop?”
“Fuck, Draco, you are unbelievable!” Harry yelled, now clenching his hands at his sides. “You knew this was temporary. I love Ginny, okay? And-how dare you shove me again. I thought we were over that.”
“I’m UNBELIEVABLE?” Draco roared. “You are such a hypocrite….you self-righteous, egotistical bastard. I can’t stand to look at you.”
“Perfect, let’s resort to name calling again. That’s even better than hitting me,” Potter snapped. “Look, I didn’t want things to go like this. I thought you understood.” He paused for a second, and his cold gaze, softened. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Malfoy. What did you really expect…a relationship?”
“I-I”
“Be rational…I’m going to be an Auror and you’re…well you. It would never work.”
“Get out, Potter. I don’t want to see your ugly face.”
Potter’s eyes darkened again, burning like emerald flames. “Real mature, Malfoy. Just toss me out once things don’t go your way.”
“FUCK YOU, Potter.”
“No, fuck you, Malfoy. You big fucking queer!”
Draco was seething now, his entire body shaking. “I’m the queer? Then what the hell are you?”
Potter laughed darkly, no longer using that deep chuckle that Draco had started to find endearing. “I’m not queer, Malfoy. I like women. And-I have a girlfriend.”
“Right…then go back to your sodding girlfriend before I hex your bollocks off.”
“Gladly,” Potter sneered and gathered up his belongings.
“And Potter,” Draco spat, “I never want to see you again.”
“Fine by me.”
“And make sure to tell your slag how much you like having a big, fat cock up your arse!”
“Screw you, Malfoy.”
“I already had you, Potter…and it was highly OVERRATED!”
“Right.”
With a quick shake of the head, Potter was gone, leaving Draco alone, livid, and naked in his dreary flat.
How could he ever have trusted Harry fucking Potter?
~8~8~8~
1 September 1999
“Harry is this really necessary?” Ginny scowled and motioned to the four men dressed in all black, who had been following their every move since leaving the car.
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, scratching his head and removing his ridiculously large sunglasses. She knew that Harry was trying to blend in and avoid making a scene at King’s Cross Station, since they were surrounded by hordes of wizarding families, but the over-sized shades actually made him look more conspicuous and kind of like a giant bug.
“Why do we need your bodyguards?” She tucked her hair behind her ears, even if shorter hair was easier it managed to fall into her eyes much too often. “You used to hate things like that.”
“Gin, they aren’t bodyguards.” He leaned in closer to her and whispered in her ear. “They’re Aurors and are off duty, but they are here for our protection, yours mostly.”
“Right,” Ginny said, with a loud sigh. “But do you think we could get a minute alone? Without your goons?”
Harry’s green eyes softened, and he put a hand on her face; his hand was rougher and more calloused than she had remembered and the slightest bit sweaty. Still, it was nice to be touched as if she were important again, as if she meant something; her heart fluttered slightly and she closed her eyes. It had been so very long since she felt anything at all. Once she opened her eyes, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear and smiled, his bright eyes watching her far too lovingly.
“I just care about you, Gin. Never forget that.”
“I know that,” she said, averting his watchful gaze, “but Voldemort’s dead. Is all this really necessary? It’s bad enough that Ron wouldn’t come and see me off.”
“Aww Gin, my darling Ginny,” he said, voice strangely dark. He pulled her close and ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s never over. You can’t defeat darkness, not really.”
She leaned in further to his embrace and took in his faint smell-old spice and bitter coffee, so very different from his old scent of freshly cut grass and syrup; he must have started using Ron’s shampoo and developed a taste for coffee in her absence, probably to counter all the sleepless nights. She thought that being in Harry’s arms again would be comforting, like coming home again, instead she felt as if were hugging a total stranger.
“I know,” she responded faintly. “I know.”
“Look,” he said, now releasing her from their embrace and grasping one of her hands. “I’ll call them off for a minute, but this really is best. Remember Moody?” She nodded reluctantly and squeezed his hand. “‘Constant Vigilance’ is the only way to prevent another Dark Lord from rising. I trust the new Ministry, Gin. And Ron will come around.”
“I know,” she said, feeling vaguely like a broken record and wishing she could somehow make Harry understand. How could he go along with all of this? The Harry she knew would never be so complacent to the Ministry or walk around in that absurd suit.
“Leave us.”
Harry ushered away the four men, who were dressed in black suits and black sunglasses. She let out a long breath, which she hadn’t realised she was holding and felt as if a large weight had been lifted from her shoulders. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that it was just like any other year and the entire Weasley clan had come along to see her off to school. Hell, she had always been so embarrassed-the only witch who had a loud and annoying sea of redheads seeing her off to school-as if she were some type of helpless child. Now, she would give anything to have her family here again, whole and happy. Or at least alive.
“So...you do feel the same then?” Harry asked, pulling her closer again.
“Huh? I mean, yeah.” She grinned at Harry and had no idea what she had just agreed to.
“That makes me so happy. I haven’t had much of a chance to speak with you since yesterday well... you know.”
“I locked myself in my room and refused to come out like a petulant child,” she supplied helpfully, smiling at Harry for real this time.
“Something like that.” He bent over and kissed her on the nose, his wiry hair tickling her. “Although, I have to say you are rather cute, even for a brat.”
“Hey!” she protested, but before she got a chance to defend herself, he leaned in and kissed her, hard-this time on the lips. At first she just stood there motionless, focusing on the hundreds of people that were witnessing their private moment, but then she let out a loud gasp and returned his deep kiss, pulling him closer and running her hands through his unruly hair. At least his hair was still the same. His lips were chapped and forceful-his mouth no longer held that delicate sweetness that had always been so uniquely Harry-rather he kissed her rough, so much rougher than he ever had before and tasted of strong mint and was that whisky? Had Harry been drinking? It was barely eleven in the morning; it just couldn’t be possible.
“Harry?” she said gasping, now resting her forehead against his. “I-I..why?”
“Because...I still love you. I never stopped and now you’re back.”
Ginny lifted her forehead from his and just stood there blinking. She had not been expecting that. At all.
“Harry,” she said again, still breathless. “I just got back and I’m leaving for school.”
“And?”
“And...I’m not sure if I’m ready to jump back into a relationship. So much has happened and in France...I...I-” Her hands were shaking now and her heart racing. She needed to make him understand and not push away the only person who seemed to care for her.
“I don’t care about France,” he said, his voice husky and deep. She had never heard him use that tone before. He grabbed her arm and tried to pull her closer; it was a causal gesture, a loving gesture even, but for some inexplicable reason, it made her chest constrict and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
“Harry, please,” she said again, her voice desperate now and wanting nothing more than to run away back to France, away from old boyfriends, dead brothers, and more darkness than she could ever imagine.
“I understand that,” he said using a calm voice, but his eyes were flashing dangerously, making Ginny uneasy. “Really I do. And we’ll take things slow, I promise. I just can’t lose you too. Not after everything else.”
“I-I need to leave. I don’t want to miss the train.”
“You won’t. You can’t. You need to...just...tell me you’re still mine, Gin.” His grip on her arm tightened considerably and his eyes glowed even more fiercely than before; she had never been afraid of Harry, but in that moment she understood how he had been able to defeat Voldemort, which caused a sharp pain to clench at her spine.
“Harry,” she cried, grimacing, “you’re hurting me. Stop it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it.” He released his tight grip and Ginny took back her arm, recoiling from him sharply as if a venomous snake had just bitten her.
“I love you.”
“Me too,” she said brusquely as she quickly leaned in and brushed her lips against his, trying her best not to cringe. “Now, I can’t have the train leaving without me.”
“Certainly not,” he said, smiling at her widely, his eyes twinkling and no longer angry. “Good thing I got you the last possible check in time, yeah?”
How could he go from livid to happy so easily?
“Take care of yourself,” she said sincerely as she grabbed her trunk and started heading for the train. It was 10. 58 and the train would be leaving in two minutes flat. “And Ron too.”
She didn’t wait for his response and scurried onto the train, cursing under her breath because she knew all the compartments would be full, especially with the new Ministry security this year.
~8~8~8~
“Fuck!” Ginny shouted as she got her heel caught in one of the cracks in between the train carts. She had carelessly shoved her overstuffed trunk onto the train, trying to buy herself some time, since she was already late for the 10.55 check in time that had been assigned to her. She furrowed her brow and bent over to massage her aching foot. Bloody hell. She knew that she shouldn’t have worn heels, but with her short hair, she looked years younger and wanted to look mature and put together for her first day of school. After all, everyone had been staring at her when she entered the station with not only Harry Potter but also his gang of minions.
“Miss Weasley.” A tall, hard faced woman, dressed in an all too familiar black suit, nodded at her in greeting. Her suit was identical to that of Harry and his Auror friends other than the golden Ministry logo that had been embroidered on the front pocket-Si vis pacem, para bellum-the Ministry’s AV-After Voldemort-new motto. Personally, Ginny thought that ‘If you want peace, prepare for war’ was only slightly better than the old Ministry’s motto, Voldemort’s Ministry, ‘Magic is might’. Still, it was infinitely better than the ‘Bellum Est Pacem’ posters she had seen displayed all over London with the new Minister of Magic and Harry shaking hands. She couldn’t believe that he actually agreed to such a ludicrous photo shoot, but that was neither here nor there. Right now, she had to deal with this Ministry bitch in front of her.
“Hello,” she said, readjusting her shoe and trying her best to feign at least a semblance of politeness.
“You are late,” the Ministry wench said frowning.
“Sorry about that. My shoe got away from me,” Ginny replied, trying to lighten the mood.
The stern woman ignored her attempt at humour and scanned over her clipboard, which also bore the Ministry seal.
“Ginevra Molly Prewett Weasley, only daughter and youngest member of the Weasley clan from Ottery St Catchpole, age 18.”
“Uh, yes, that’s right,” Ginny said, raising both eyebrows.
“You have now been checked in for your 7th year of Hogwarts. Before I inform you of your carriage assignment, please confirm your date of birth.”
“What?” The older woman sounded strangely like a Muggle robot, just like those she had seen in Jacqueline’s films, during the short time she had been at Beauxbatons.
“Your birthday, Weasley,” a bored voice, drawled behind her. “This lovely lady just wants to make sure you’re you...you know no Polyjuice or Slytherin antics, I’m sure.”
“Right.” Ginny turned around to find Pansy Parkinson standing in the small cart, her tanned arms crossed in front of her and red lips pursed in annoyance. Suddenly, the cart felt uncomfortably full with Pansy and Umbridge junior standing in such close proximity to her.
“11th of August 1981,” Ginny replied, avoiding Pansy’s amused glare.
“Very good,” the robot woman said. “You have been assigned to cart 1247. You must remain there for the entire trip to Hogwarts. Do you understand?”
“1247? Are you mad woman? There aren’t 1247 carts!” She had gone along with all the foolishness, but this was crossing the line.
“I can assure you miss that there is a cart 1247. I would be happy to escort you there.” Umbridge Jr. Looked as though there was nothing she wanted to do less than take her to her cart.
“That won’t be necessary,” Pansy said coolly, placing a perfectly manicured hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “I’ll escort Miss Weasley there myself.”
She grabbed Ginny by the arm and placed a Levitation Charm on her trunk.
“Come on.”
~8~8~8~
“Parkinson! I have no idea what you think you’re doing, but if you don’t want to end up on the wrong end of my wand, you’ll unhand me at once.”
“Fuck, Weasley, you really are a pill.” Pansy released Ginny’s arm, but blocked the path in front of her. “You must be a real firecracker in the sack, huh? Potter’s a lucky bloke indeed.” Pansy quipped, leering at her.
Ginny took a deep breath. This was her first day of school and she wasn’t going to let a colossal bitch like Pansy ruin it.
“Leave him out of it,” she warned, narrowing her eyes.
“Fine, fine.” Pansy waved her arms exasperatedly. “No more mentioning of the Boy-who-Scored.”
“What is it that you want Parkinson?”
“Call me, Pansy, darling” Pansy said brightly, rewarding her with a toothy grin that Ginny found frightening. “And I don’t want anything. I was just doing you a favour...saving you from that awful woman.”
She examined Pansy closely, trying to gage the other girl’s intentions. She knew Slytherins didn’t do anything without an ulterior motive. What was hers?
“Alright,” she said with a nod, “lead the way.”
“My pleasure,” Pansy replied with a smirk and a mock bow.
Ginny followed Pansy through the narrow compartments, which were a lot smaller than she remembered, and were now filled with rows and rows of students. It appeared that the students had been bunched into only a handful of ‘acceptable’ compartments rather than allowed to spread out amongst the entire train. There was also no sign of the trolley witch of whom Ginny had rather fond memories, especially her 5th year when both Michael and Dean had shown up with an armful of sweets for her, trying their best to win her over. Instead, armed guards patrolled the empty compartments aisles, making their way up and down the train making sure that no funny business or illegal use of magic was taking place.
When they came across the first armed guard, she shuddered briefly; they were dressed in long, black hooded robes that were embellished with the new Ministry logo. Clearly, they were harmless, but they brought back dreadful memories of her last train ride on the Hogwarts Express, swarmed by Dementors.
“Hey, it’s alright,” Pansy said, squeezing her shoulder. “They’re mainly here for show, but they did freak me out at first too.”
“It’s not that...it’s just-”
“Oh, trust me, I know, Weasley...or can I call you Ginny?” The older girl grabbed her arm again and looked hopeful. “They’re like something out of a nightmare.”
“Yes, exactly,” Ginny replied, allowing Pansy to continue leading her.
“Well, we’re here.” Pansy motioned to the compartment door in front of her. “After you.”
“Wait what?” Ginny glanced over at the compartment door. On a gold plate it read: Cart 6957
“This is the wrong cart.” Ginny ran a hand through her hair. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Is it?” Pansy asked, her dark eyes utterly amused. “Silly, me. Why don’t you join us then?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Ginny narrowed her eyes again. Why had she ever let Pansy lead her in the first place? How far was she from her assigned cart now? She hadn’t even paid attention to the strange numbering on their walk over.
“Because,” Pansy said casually, “I just thought you would feel more comfortable here. Away from all the guards and whispers you’d have endure in your assigned cart.” She was motioning with her hands again, her long nails painted a dark green with a silver stripe down the middle.
“Why are you doing this? You know who I am.” Ginny locked eyes with the Slytherin girl, who had never said more than two words to her at school-other than ‘Move slut’.
“Listen, darling, the war is over. And I won’t hold your familial tides against you, if you won’t hold mine against me.”
“I suppose that sounds fair,” Ginny said slowly. “Still, why should I trust you? You’re the girl who tried to turn Harry over to Voldemort!”
“That’s ancient history, love,” Pansy said dismissively, “Potter and I are good friends now. Didn’t he tell you?”
Ginny rolled her eyes at Pansy but didn’t respond.
“Anyway, your little friend is in our cart. And she’s just dying to see you.”
“What friend?”
“You know, the dreamy one...who’s all blonde hair and rainbows.”
“You mean, Luna?” Ginny asked, her stomach clenching painfully, thinking about her old friend who she hadn’t seen or spoken to in months.
“Yes,” Pansy replied, her dark eyes glittering mischievously. “Miss Lovegood is expecting you.”
“Very well, but you go first.” Ginny sighed again and fixed her hair in the window, hoping that Harry hadn’t mussed it too badly. “And Pansy, do call me Ginny,” she said with a big smile that was only partly fake.
~8~8~8~
Once Girl Weasley had been happily reunited with her little friend and the nauseating kisses and maudlin Gryffindor sentiments had been widely dispersed, Pansy snuck out of the compartment.
She never did learn to speak squealing girl, which is why she had always associated with Draco and his gang of boys rather than the Slytherin girls.
Most of the other 7th year Slytherins, the ones that mattered, or the Make-up year students as the Ministry officials had been calling them, were sitting in the cart that she had bribed the assigned patrolling guard generously in order to leave them alone. However, one very distinct Slytherin was missing from their little clique, a certain Draco Malfoy.
Although she was able to coerce him into shopping yesterday, even if he was an hour late, she hadn’t seen him at all since they boarded the train. She had a funny feeling that she knew where he would be though. Draco liked to pretend that he was all tough and prickly, and the truth was that he was prickly and bit of bastard, for the most part, but he was also fiercely protective and loyal to his friends as well as rather predictable. She walked over to the very last compartment in the train and disarmed the wards around it, smiling to herself that Draco had remembered to add their special Slytherins only wards, which had been added once Draco had caught Potter eavesdropping on their conversations.
“Mr Malfoy,” she said in a deep feigned voice, once she entered the compartment. “You are not in your assigned cart and I must escort you there immediately. Or else we will be forced to feed you to the Dementors”
Draco was curled up in his usual seat, his head resting on the window and his long legs clutched to his chest. That position looked wildly uncomfortable.
His head snapped up quickly and his grey eyes turned dark once they widened in recognition. “Bugger off, Pans,” he snapped. “I’m not in the mood. And I’ve already dealt with Dementors...if you don’t recall.”
“I can’t do that, love,” she said, shoving his feet off the seat in order to make room for her next to him and ignoring his last comment. “My cart is utterly lacking in snarky blond bastard and it’s such a long train ride. Do you have any idea where I can find one?” She laid her head on his shoulder and tried to refrain from laughing.
“No,” Draco pouted, lying his head on top of hers. “Don’t feel like entertaining today.”
“I know.” She patted his leg reassuringly. “But you shouldn’t be here alone.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she said, closing her eyes, “we can’t live in the past, Draco. They’re not coming back.”
“I know that,” he hissed.
“Do you?” She opened her eyes and removed her head from Draco’s shoulder. “It looks to me like you were in here thinking about old ghosts.”
“Am not.”
“Really? Then why were you sitting in your usual spot?”
“Didn’t realise,” Draco lied.
“Uh huh, you must have residual brain damage from all the alcohol you’ve consumed this summer,” Pansy said, patting his head as if he were a child. “Let’s see if I remember then.”
She rested her back against the armrest and patted her lap. “Come on, for old time’s sake.”
Draco frowned but placed his head in her lap anyway. She smiled at him sadly and started stroking his soft hair, just as she had done for the last few years. He sighed softly as she played with his hair, almost like a cat purring; the familiar gesture was comforting to both of them.
“Well, you grant me the privilege of stroking your hair,” she said fondly. “And then Theo would sit in the corner, facing away from us and pretending to read a book.”
“Bloody tosser,” Draco muttered.
“Won’t argue there, he was a terrible shag.”
“Eww, Pans. I don’t want to hear about your deviant behaviour. And with Theo. Ugh.”
“Anyway,” Pansy said rolling her eyes again. She tended to do that a lot when Draco was in one of his many moods. “Daphne and Millicent would sit over there.” She motioned to the far seat across from Theo’s seat. “They would always read those rubbish gossip magazines and giggle obnoxiously until we kicked them out.”
“Good times.”
“Yes,” Pansy agreed, still stroking Draco’s hair. “And...Blai-se would sit right across from us,” she said softly, only hitching slightly on their dead friend’s name, “sprawling out on the entire seat with his eye mask, claiming that he needed his-”
“Sodding beauty rest. I remember,” Draco added, now chuckling lightly. “Gods, I miss him. And-”
“And Vince would wander up and down the aisles, going from cart to cart looking for the Trolley witch.” She sighed and shook her head. “He would forget how to disarm the wards or forget which compartment was ours.” She paused for what was only a second but felt like an eternity. “Then Greg would go find him. They could never be apart for too long,” she finished, her voice breaking on the last couple of words.
Tears were filling her eyes now and she had to swallow heavily to hold them back.
“Don’t you dare mention that name to me!” Draco jumped up from her lap, his eyes flashing violently. “He’s dead to me.”
“But Draco,” Pansy said softly, her voice shaking, “it wasn’t his fault.”
“No, it was mine. But you know what he did and now Vince is gone.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes and banged her against the window. “But Greg is going to stay in Azkaban for the rest of his life. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
“No,” Draco said firmly. “It won’t bring Vince back or Blaise or Daphne or any of the others we lost.”
Pansy grimaced. “You’re right. Absolutely right. I’m sorry for bringing it up. Can we talk about something else? Anything else.”
“Like what?”
Pansy knew this was the perfect opportunity to spring her little plan on Draco; he was most vulnerable right now. She really should feel bad about manipulating Draco like this, but in the end, this was for his own good. He would thank her eventually.
“Well-” Pansy’s dark eyes lit up like a child on Christmas, “you’ll never guess who we have sitting in our cart. You’ll just die.”
“Who Potter?” Draco said scowling darkly. “I saw him at the platform not that Saint Potter even bothered to acknowledge me.”
Pansy smiled widely at her best friend, her evil smile that she only wore when they were scheming. “Better,” she said smugly, “his redheaded slag.”
“And what do I want with her?” Draco scoffed, scrunching his nose as if he had just gotten a whiff a foul smell.
“She’s Potter’s new toy...or old toy I guess you could say.”
“So?”
“So, darling, are you a Slytherin or are you not?” Pansy asked brightly.
Draco looked confused but didn’t say anything.
“Listen to me,” she said firmly, now grasping Draco’s hands. “Potter broke your heart.”
“He did not break my heart...”
“Whatever. Don’t interrupt,” Pansy snapped. “You want revenge on him, right?” Draco nodded at her solemnly. “Then what better way to get revenge then to play with his little toy? He doesn’t seem like the type that likes to share.”
“Pansy!” Draco cried after a long beat, his grey eyes lighting up considerably. “That’s brilliant.”
“Don’t look so shocked. I am a genius after all.”
“Quite right, dear.” He threw his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek almost suffocating her in the process.
“Blimey! Who knew all it took to get you hot and heavy was some talk of revenge and scheming?”
Draco laughed loudly, a deep chortle, and the first genuine laugh she had heard from him in a long time.
“We need to start the scheming right away.”
“Naturally, darling, naturally.”
Pansy preened in the train window, attempting to fix the stray strands that Draco had just mussed. He was prattling away excitedly, his grey eyes vivid and hands waving around.
Yes, it felt like old times again. After all, they had lost an entire year of scheming. They had a lot to make up for.
~8~8~8~
15 September 1999, late morning
Draco was pacing, back and forth furiously, or at least as furiously as he could pace in the Dungeon cupboard. He had been waiting for over an hour for Pansy and was going spare. As a Malfoy he had many virtues, but patience was not one of them. She was avoiding him, quite successfully too, but he was smarter and would catch her off guard. Nobody beat Draco Malfoy at his own game, not even Pansy.
If he knew her as well as he hoped, she should be showing up quite soon. They had History of Magic now and Pansy usually skived off to take a nap. In order to avoid Draco, she would probably show up a few minutes early, but he was ready for her.
Surely enough, at precisely 10. 35, ten minutes earlier than her usual appearance, Pansy showed up in the dungeon hall, but before she even had a chance to react, Draco jumped out and grabbed her, covering her mouth and pulling her into the Dungeon cupboard. He locked the door behind them and leaned against the door, arms firmly crossed in front of him.
“Parkinson,” he said darkly.
“Draco, darling,” Pansy replied cheerfully, “what a pleasant surprise.”
She leaned in to give him a quick kiss in greeting, but Draco pushed her away. Draco was not amused and did not feel like dealing with Pansy’s bullshit right now.
“Don’t you dare try to darling me. You’ve been avoiding me,” he accused, his eyes narrowed and tone matter-of-factly.
“Of, course not,” Pansy replied, avoiding Draco’s glare and brushing the invisible lint off her skirt. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you’ve failed me, Pansy.”
Pansy stared at him all wide-eyed and innocent, fluttering her long eyelashes and pretending that she had no idea what he was talking about. But Draco knew better. He wasn’t one of their ancient professors that she could just sweet talk.
“Let me refresh your memory then,” he sneered. “The She-Weasel. You were supposed to befriend her...get her to trust you...so I can make my move.”
“Christ Draco,” she scoffed, a dark, manic chuckle escaping her red lips. “Is that all?” she asked, her eyes flashing mischievously. “Darling you are always so dramatic about everything.” She stepped closer to him and stared him straight in the eyes, her gaze never wavering even when he narrowed his eyes into his infamous Malfoy death glare.
“I don’t have time for your games, Pansy.”
“No one is playing games. I have the situation under control...just trust me.”
“Why should I?” Draco snapped, looking his friend over closely. Pansy might be his best friend, but she loved to play games, lived for the drama, and frankly, she was almost as good of a liar as he was.
“It’s only been two weeks, relax. All that stress will give you worry lines,” she quipped.
“I do not have-” Draco closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Losing his temper with Pansy was not going to get him anywhere. “Explain your plan then.”
“Well,” Pansy said, playing with her hair, “I didn’t want to scare her off...naturally.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I wanted to run my plan by you first. After all, you are the best when it comes to scheming.”
“Indeed,” Draco muttered, pretending that he was indifferent, but secretly he was pleased with her acknowledgement.
Pansy batted her eyelashes again and pouted. “It’s brilliant really, but you might not like it.”
“Why is that, dear?”
“It involves Lovegood,” Pansy replied seriously. Draco eyes widened at the mention of Luna; he hadn’t wanted to involve her in this ordeal but nodded at Pansy to continue.
“I want to invite her to stay at the Slytherin dorms from now on. We have plenty of extra beds...and I want to make her an honorary snake.”
Pansy paused and looked at Draco, pursing her lips. Draco knew that she was anxious as to what his reaction would be-this was as troubled as Pansy would ever look.
Draco ran a hand through his hair and let Pansy fret for a few moments before responding.
“You will not hurt her in any way,” he instructed, his tone brusque and commanding.
“Never,” Pansy replied, putting her hand on her heart. “I promise. She’s yours.”
“That’s right.” Draco grinned smugly at her. “And it is a rather devious plan. But why all the concern?”
Pansy paled. “I-I just thought you might not be comfortable with me using Luna. That’s all.”
Draco raised an eyebrow at her.
“I mean you’ve said multiple times that she’s off limits.”
Draco smirked at her and put a hand on his forehead, as if pretending to faint. “Oh, Pansy, you wound me.” Pansy looked concerned, but didn’t say anything. “You think I’ve gone soft, don’t you? With the whole Potter fiasco and Luna.”
“I-I” Pansy averted her eyes and hung her head.
“Don’t be ashamed.” Draco sighed and stepped closer to Pansy. “I would probably think the same thing if I were in your position, but it’s not true.” He put a hand under Pansy’s chin and tilted it up to him. “Look at me, dear. I know that things have been strange lately, but I’m still me. And we will be us again, starting with this sinister plot.” Pansy leaned into his touch and he brought her close. “You’re still my number one, Pans,” he whispered in her ear. “And we’re Slytherins. I’m not opposed to manipulating our friends...if it’s for the greater good and they don’t get hurt.”
“The greater good?”
“Yes, us,” Draco replied cheekily.
Pansy laughed and kissed him on the forehead. “It’s good to have you back, love,” she said. “And don’t worry, Draco. Once we’re done with Weasley...Potter’s toy will not only be used. It’ll be broken.”
Draco smiled widely and embraced the other girl, reminding himself as to why Pansy was his best friend.
“That’s my girl. Now, let’s get out of this cupboard. The rumours of our romantic reconciliation are probably flying like mad.”
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part 5
Author: icicle33
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Harry/Ginny, Ginny/Draco, Pansy/Blaise, Pansy/Ginny, Luna/Neville (unrequited), Ron/Hermione (and perhaps a couple surprise pairings that I don’t want to give away)
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: #3 punishing an ex by seducing their new partner and/or the person they're in love with
Content Information/Warnings: Lots of sexual context of all kinds-het, slash, and femmeslash, adult language, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse as well as implied drug use in one scene, dealing with post war trauma, Slytherin schemes, infidelity, and basically showcasing some of the most dysfunctional relationships ever.
Summary: Revenge is a dish best served cold, and as Harry and Ginny find out the hard way, you should never cross a poisonous snake. Harry breaks Draco’s heart, and with Pansy’s help, they decide to implement a twisted revenge scheme to break Potter’s heart. Of course, as always, things are more complicated than they seem, and no one ever escapes a revenge ploy unscathed.
Author's Notes: A very big thank you to the lovely featherxquill, for not only running this awesome fest, but for also being incredibly patient with me and my long fic. Also, a special thank you to my beta AB. Without you, I don’t think this fic would have made much sense. Thank you for yelling at me and convincing me to change things that needed to be changed. You are amazing. Any errors that remain are mine. To the prompter, you wanted a seduction/revenge fic, so I hope you like this.
Last thing, this fic takes place in a slight AU, which is mostly consistent with DH; however, the new wizarding world is a lot darker than in cannon. In many ways, this is a rather twisted 8th year fic.
“The man who seeks revenge digs two graves.” ~Ken Kesey
~8~8~8~
“Ginny, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m kissing you, silly.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you. You know that. I thought you understood.”
“I do understand, Ginny, but that doesn’t change anything.”
“I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you. I always have and always will, but I can’t do this.”
“Why? Why not?” Ginny demanded, her eyes filling with tears now. “I already told you, Malfoy meant nothing to me. And what happened in France. I can’t take that back. I love you. Only you.”
“Ginny-”
“No,” Ginny begged, her voice desperate now. “Don’t do this. I NEED you.”
“I-I”
“Please give me another chance.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Why? Just give me a reason.”
“ You’re not you anymore, Ginny.”
“Of course, I am. We share a soul. You told me that.”
“I-I”
“Please…I’ll do anything. I can change.”
“You can’t. It’s too late...and there’s someone else. I’m sorry.”
“No. No. No.”
~8~8~8~
19 May 2000
Ginny opened her eyes slowly and gazed at the ceiling above her. It had been charmed to an iridescent shade of silver, and green serpents slithered across the ceiling, coiling around each other and hissing every so often. It really was quite an impressive display of magic and much better than last week’s ‘Slytherins do it better…in bed’, which Pansy had charmed in flashing pink letters-but it certainly didn’t do anything to help her headache. If anything, the hissing serpents made her feel even more disoriented; the room was spinning slightly, but not rapidly enough to make her sick just yet.
She sat up carefully, leaning stiffly against the soft leather couch and started rubbing the temples of her forehead.
“Merlin, I need another drink.”
“You’ve been cut off, princess,” said a pale dark haired boy, who Ginny recognised as a Slytherin fifth year or maybe he was a fourth year. He placed his cold, clammy hand on her thigh, and if she had any idea where her wand actually was, she would have cursed his pervy little hand right off.
“Says who?” Ginny spat, narrowing her eyes at the younger boy and slapping his hand away.
“ Miss Pansy, of course, I’m to watch you on her orders and not give you anything else to drink.”
“Really?” Ginny asked drily. “And what’s in it for you?”
The other boy frowned and paused. “Well, erm…she did promise not to hex me…as much.”
“What a brilliant prize.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Come here,” she instructed, pulling the boy closer to her. “If you bring me a bottle of firewhisky or some other type of hard alcohol,” she leaned in closer to him and licked her lips. “I’ll offer you something better, much better.”
“Like what?” Obviously, this daft boy was not taking the hint.
“I’ll fuck your brains out, you little fucking pervert,” she purred, making sure to use her most sultry tone. “But first... my bottle.”
“Right away.”
The boy scurried away and Ginny leaned back on the couch again, closing her eyes in order to avoid the ostentatious ceiling. Boys were just too fucking easy.
Within minutes, the boy returned and handed Ginny an unopened bottle of gin.
“What the hell is this?” Ginny scowled darkly at the younger boy and he recoiled.
“It’s the best I could do, Miss Weasley. All the firewhisky is gone. It’s being rationed now, Miss.” The boy said, now visibly trembling under Ginny’s pointed glare.
“How is that my problem?” Ginny narrowed her eyes further, her blue eyes like ice. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I-I...my apologies. It’s a Muggle liquor just as strong as firewhisky?”
“Just as strong?” Ginny hissed. “Are you sure?”
“Stronger, Miss,” the boy insisted, “stronger.”
Ginny seemed satisfied and ushered the boy away. “It’ll do…I suppose. Now, leave me alone.”
“But what about -”
“Later, now scram before I tell Pansy what a filthy little house traitor you are.”
The Slytherin boy gulped loudly and ran off before Ginny even finished opening her newest prize.
“To love,” Ginny said dejectedly, raising the entire bottle in a toast. She took a large gulp and winced. It was foul; the harsh liquid burned as it went down her throat and smelt strangely of pine trees, but it would have to do. Sodding Ministry rations. Besides, she wanted to forget and needed answers.
Perhaps she would find some answers at the bottom of this bottle.
~8~8~8~
30 August 1999
“Harry, what are you doing here?”
A blur of dark hair and hard limbs was embracing her, hard.
“Oh well, I heard you were coming home today, and I wanted to be here.” He paused for a second, still squeezing her tightly. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure, Harry,” Ginny said, “but do you think you could let me go. You’re suffocating me.”
“Sorry, Gin. I’m just so happy you’re home.”
“Right,” Ginny replied, avoiding Harry’s eyes. At one point in time, she would have given anything to have Harry waiting for her at the train station. Now, she just wished for things that no longer existed-things that she could never get back.
“It’s good to see you, Gin,” Harry said brightly. He finally released her and smiled at her, showing off his big goofy grin.
“You too, Harry. You too.”
Without even asking, he grabbed her luggage and she nodded in gratitude. She wasn’t used to having people cater to her, especially not in France. The French hadn’t been particularly kind to her. She shifted back and forth in place, lazily resting her weight on her back foot. When did it get so difficult to talk to Harry?
“You cut your hair,” he said breaking the looming silence. He leaned in closer to her and wrapped his finger around one of her short curls.
“Erm...yeah.” She shook her head gently, tossing her bright curls, and then ran a hand through her chin length hair. “It was hot in France. This is just easier.”
“I like it.” Harry looked as if he yearned to reach out and touch her again but thankfully decided against it.
“Thanks.” She paused for a second and bit on the corner of her lip. She really needed to stop that habit or she was going to be stuck with disproportionate lips.
“Harry,” she said slowly finally locking eyes with him. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but where’s Ron?” His green eyes were kind, as usual, but they had a hidden lassitude behind them that had not been there before the war.
“Oh, he’s just pulling the car around. Kinglsey lent us one of the Ministry cars to pick you up.” He shrugged his shoulders, which Ginny noticed, were still a tad thin, but his face now had a roundness that had been lacking the last time she saw him. All those months ago, he had been barely bones, a skeleton with a mop of untidy hair and piecing green eyes. Clearly, living with Ron had positive effects on his nourishment at least.
“Gin?” Harry said, squeezing her shoulder now. “Are you even listening to me? You look like you’re a million miles away.”
“Sorry.” She pursed her lips and frowned. “I’m just tired that’s all. Can you tell me again?”
“Sure,” he said, with a slight smirk, “Ron and I are in Auror training now. Kinglsey gave us a by even though we didn’t take our NEWTs. We wanted you to be safe. That’s all.” He paused and looked serious, his soft features darkening. “I’m sure you heard about what’s been going on. All the extra precautions.”
He shifted her heavy bag to his other shoulder, and she couldn’t help but return his faint smile. At least some things never change. Harry might have defeated the darkest wizard of all time, but he still forgets he’s a wizard. She cast a quick lightening charm under her breath.
“Ah, I see.”
“I thought you knew, Gin,” he said, now starting to walk towards the exit sign. “I told you in my letters.”
“Right, of course.” Ginny squeezed Harry’s shoulder reassuringly and tried her best to offer a real smile. There was a time when smiling had come naturally to her; now, it was almost painful-but she didn’t have the heart to tell him that she never opened any of his letters.
“I’m happy for you, Harry.”
“Thanks, Gin!” He turned around and beamed at her. “You won’t believe how excited Ron is to have you home. He’s been talking about it all week.”
Ginny tried to return Harry’s smile, but his enthusiasm was already wearing on her. It was going to be a long day.
~8~8~8~
“Gin, it’s so great to have you home.”
“Thanks, Ron, it’s…it’s nice to be home.”
Ever since the train station, Ron hadn’t stopped hugging her either. She had spent the whole drive home, terrified that they were going to crash, since Ron was driving with only one arm. Thank Merlin that Harry had assured her the car had Anti-collision Charms placed on it. If not, she might have bit all the way through her already swollen lip.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything? You must be starving after your long trip.”
She smirked at her brother. Ron had always been protective of her.
“No, thank you, though. I’m knackered.”
“Alright, Gin, get some sleep.” He paused and ran a hand through his longer hair. Ron had always kept his hair short and neat, on mum’s orders, of course, but now his hair had grown long enough to curl up at the ends, just behind his large ears. Apparently, Harry’s habits were rubbing off on Ron as well.
“Harry’s been staying in your room, though. I set up Percy’s old room, just in case you didn’t want to stay with him.”
“NO!” she shrieked. “I mean…not tonight. I wouldn’t want to wake him.”
“Right,” Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. Luckily, he had never been the most perceptive of her brothers.
She started making her way up the stairs, but stopped when Ron called out to her.
“Oi Ginny…you are coming to visit Mum tomorrow, right?”
Before turning around to face her brother, Ginny sighed heavily. She hadn’t wanted to get into a fight with him so soon.
“No,” she said firmly, “I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean no?” Ron walked over to the bottom of the stairs and crossed his arms, his freckled face, already starting to redden at the cheeks.
“I have a lot to do tomorrow, Ron.”
“Like what?”
Ginny sighed again and blew her loose curls out of her face. “I have to pack and go shopping for school books.”
“Ginny!” Ron’s entire face was red now; she had to bite down on her tongue to keep herself from laughing. He looked like a giant freckled tomato.
“Ron, let’s talk about this tomorrow. I don’t want to fight.”
“Don’t want to fight?” Ron spat, “Gin, how could you? I thought you were staying here.” He looked as if he were on the verge of tears. “Don’t you want to be with me, Gin? I haven’t seen you since…since, you know-”
She quickly climbed back down the stairs and threw her arms around her favourite brother’s back. “Ron, I love you,” she whispered, rubbing circles down his back. “So much. This has nothing to do with you.” She squeezed him tighter and buried her face in his shoulder, like she had done when she was a little girl.
“I just…can’t be here anymore…not with everything that’s happened.”
“But-I need you,” he whispered, his voice hitching.
“Oh Ron,” she said, desperately fighting back her own tears, “you don’t. You have Harry and Hermione. And Auror training.”
Ron started stroking her hair now, gently, and wrapping his fingers in her loose curls, just as Dad used to do. “But what about, Mum? She’s asked about you.”
“I doubt that,” she replied, her voice strained. “Ron-I know you don’t want to hear this, but Mum’s gone. She’s just not the same. Not since-”
“I know, I know…not since Dad…Percy…and Fred.” Tears were falling from his blotchy eyes now, streaming down his face and halting on his pronounced freckles as if they were smooth pebbles in a river.
“Ron,” she said gently, wiping his large tears and carefully hiding her own, “you can’t blame yourself. They’re gone…and it’s no one’s fault. And Mum she’s just broken.”
“No!” Ron insisted. “She’s getting better. I know it.”
“Really?” Ginny asked, removing herself from her brother’s tight embrace. She tilted her head up and stared him straight in the eyes. “Is she still calling you, Fred?”
Ron looked down at the floor and didn’t respond.
“She is…isn’t she?”
“Sometimes,” Ron admitted reluctantly.
“Ron, I know you love, Mum. I do too, but you have to let her go. Let her get help. We all loved Dad, Percy, and Fred.” She swallowed loudly and knew that she would probably regret saying this, but she couldn’t keep quiet any longer and watch her brother suffer like this.
“Our mother,” she said firmly, “has forgotten that even though she lost her husband and two children…she still has five other children who are very much ALIVE. We lost them too, you know.”
Ron snapped his head up and looked at Ginny with wide, blazing eyes; he looked absolutely livid.
“Take. That. Back,” he snarled, his large nostrils flaring.
“NO!” Ginny shouted back, shoving him away; she felt like a seven-year-old again, fighting with Ron and resorting to blows since he wasn’t allowed to retaliate, rather than a grown woman of eighteen. The only difference was that this time, their parents weren’t around to break up the fight.
She ran up the stairs, ignoring Ron’s pointed bellows and ran into her room, technically Percy’s room, slamming and locking the door behind her.
~8~8~8~
31 August 1999
Pansy stormed into Draco’s bedroom and opened all of his curtains, black leather, how utterly predictable.
“Draco, for Salazar’s sake, will you stop wallowing and suck it up, already?”
“No,” Draco cried petulantly and hid underneath his thick, purple silk comforter. “I’m not wallowing.”
Pansy put down her purse and cloak on a nearby chair, and then placed her arms on her hips. She was not in the mood to deal with Draco’s brooding today.
“Get up…NOW…before I banish that comforter and you have to explain to your mother why you lost her Japanese silk bedspread.”
“Gods, Pansy, you are so annoying,” Draco whinged, still hiding underneath the covers, only a few strands of his pale hair visible. He had never been a morning person, much to Pansy’s amusement who was always up with the sun.
“Go away!”
“I’m going to count to three, darling…1 2...”
“Fine, fine.” Draco unburied himself from the comforter and faced Pansy, his white blond hair sticking up in all directions
“What is it that you want, Parkinson?” Draco snapped, crossing his arms and scowling at her.
“Darling,” Pansy said with a large grin, “that is no way to talk to your oldest friend. I merely came over to check on your well-being.”
“Uh…huh.”
“Seriously, love.” Pansy sat down on Draco’s bed and bent over to kiss him on the forehead in greeting. “Ugh…you reek of stale alcohol.” She backed away from him, her arms flailing and scrunched her nose. “Don’t tell me you’re still drunk?”
“Certainly not,” Draco sneered through gritted teeth. “Now bugger off! I want to sleep.”
“It’s after twelve, Draco Malfoy, you cannot go back to sleep.” Pansy plopped down on the bed next to him, laying her head on his hard chest.
“Get off me you, slag.”
“No, I’m comfy.”
“Well, I’m not. You’re heavy.”
“How dare you?” Pansy gasped, pretending to be affronted.
“Pan-sy-”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll make you get off me, you wench.”
Draco flipped her over and starting tickling her, furiously and relentlessly.
“Stop, stop!” Pansy squealed in between fits of giggles. “Stop it you…scoundrel.”
“Give in!”
“Never!”
“Give in.”
“No,” Pansy cried petulantly, tears of laughter streaming down her face.
“You leave me no choice then.” Draco stopped tickling her, and once Pansy let out a sigh of relief, he started mussing up her hair.
“Not the hair! Not the hair!”
“Say it…”
“Fine, mercy. Mercy!” Pansy shrieked. “Just leave my poor hair alone.”
Draco released her and sat up looking rather pleased with himself and laughed. Some best friend.
“Draco Malfoy,” Pansy said, narrowing her eyes at him and running her hands desperately through her knotted hair, “you really are a sadistic prick. I love how the only way to make you smile is to see someone else in misery.”
Draco shrugged his shoulders and smirked at her, his grey eyes utterly amused. “What can I say? It runs in the family.”
“Hmmph.”
He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his wand. He muttered a spell that Pansy was unfamiliar with, but once she looked in the nearby mirror and saw her hair return to its former perfect state, she was satisfied.
“You’re welcome,” he added cheekily.
“Oh, get stuffed.”
“Now, now, darling. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. What is that you want?”
“School starts tomorrow, Draco, and I insist that you accompany me shopping.”
She patted her newly styled hair and checked her makeup in the mirror. Draco arched a fair eyebrow at her but didn’t respond.
“Come on, love,” Pansy insisted, pouting her lips at her friend, “I need your guidance and brilliant fashion sense.”
Draco frowned for a moment and pursed his lips. Pansy didn’t dare interrupt him because she knew that was Draco for ‘I’m considering it’.
“I suppose that’s true,” he said, “but I’m really not feeling up to it today, Pans. We’ll go next week.”
“Draco,” Pansy said slowly, “don’t tell me you’re still hung up on Potter.”
“I am NOT hung up on Potter!”
“Just because he dumped you, darling, does not mean that you should shut yourself away in your room,” Pansy said kindly, patting Draco on the head.
“Parkinson,” Draco spat, that angry vein in his forehead bulging, “I am not your pet crup. Do NOT pet me.” He crossed his arms firmly across his chest and narrowed his eyes into thin slits. “And…Potter did NOT dump me. I ended things with him.”
Pansy chuckled to herself and rolled her eyes. Sometimes, boys were rather ridiculous. “Right, you keep telling yourself that.”
“It’s true,” Draco insisted.
“Even if it is,” Pansy agreed calmly, “get over it. We’re going back to school tomorrow, and for once, Potter won’t be there to fuck things up for us.”
“I suppose, you’re right.”
“I’m always right. Now, get yourself together,” Pansy ordered, getting up from Draco’s bed and grabbing her personal belongings. “I’ll be back for you in two hours…and you better be ready.”
“Anything you say, Mother,” Draco replied snidely.
“Two hours, Malfoy,” she repeated. “And don’t forget about the curfew. We’re no longer allowed out after dark.”
“But we are the dark.”
Pansy chuckled but didn’t respond. As soon as Pansy let herself out of his room, thinking she was no longer watching, he buried himself under the covers again.
~8~8~8~
“Har-I mean Potter, get your scrawny arse back in bed.”
“I do not have a scrawny arse, Malfoy.”
“Fine,” Draco said, burying his head on Harry’s pillow, “get your hot arse over here. I’m cold and you’re like a human blanket.”
“What are you on about, Malfoy?”
“Let me say it in idiot Gryffindor for you…Potter, You-Bed-Now.”
Potter chuckled deeply, but did not give into Draco’s request. Instead, he started rummaging around the room looking for his scattered clothing. Suddenly, Draco was wide awake.
“Potter…” Draco whinged.
“Don’t whinge, Malfoy,” Potter corrected. “You’re not a girl.” He paused for a second and smirked at Draco. “Even if you do scream like one…in bed.”
“Shut up, Potter. Malfoys do not whinge,” Draco protested, pouting his full lips at the other boy. “It’s undignified. And you’re one to talk about screaming in bed. Last night, you were all...oh, Draco, you rock my world. Oh, Draco, you really are the Slytherin sex god.”
“Anyways,” Potter said, ignoring his last comment, “I need to get going.”
“What do you mean?” Draco asked, his voice much higher pitched than he would have liked. He was now sitting up in bed and staring straight at Potter.
“I thought we had plans.”
“Oh,” Potter said frowning, “sorry about that, Malfoy. I must have forgotten. Ginny’s coming home tomorrow, so I have to help Ron clean and run some errands.”
“Ah, the prodigal She-Weasel is returning,” Draco said, smirking widely at Potter and cocking one eyebrow. “You must be thrilled.”
“Don’t call her that,” Potter snapped, “And I am thrilled.” Potter ran a hand through his poor excuse for hair and continued searching for his wayward sock.
“That’s fine,” Draco said, yawning. “I’m sure I can find some way to entertain myself until you’re free.”
“Errrr,” Potter mumbled, now biting down on his bottom lip. “I won’t be free today.”
“Pity.” Draco frowned and licked his lips. “That’s disappointing, but I’m sure I can wait until tomorrow…if I must.”
“Errr…I won’t be free then either.”
“Alright,” Draco said, now raising both eyebrows at Potter. “When then…oh Chosen One?”
“My schedule’s going to be pretty tight now, Malfoy, with Auror training starting and all.”
“What are you saying?” Draco demanded, now rolling out of bed and not caring that he was completely starkers.
“Come on, Malfoy,” Potter said, “don’t make me spell it out for you.”
“I think you need to.”
Potter sighed loudly and crossed his arms. “Seriously, Malfoy, you are a real piece of work. I thought were just having fun.”
“We were…I mean are,” Draco insisted. “Then why would you want to stop?”He walked over and put his arms around Potter’s back and started blowing on his neck, making sure to run his tongue against the most sensitive part, right below Potter’s ear.
“Well, you’re going back to school and now that Ginny’s back-”
Draco stopped licking Potter’s neck and pushed him away harder than he had intended. “So this is about that redheaded trollop?”
“Fuck, Draco, you are unbelievable!” Harry yelled, now clenching his hands at his sides. “You knew this was temporary. I love Ginny, okay? And-how dare you shove me again. I thought we were over that.”
“I’m UNBELIEVABLE?” Draco roared. “You are such a hypocrite….you self-righteous, egotistical bastard. I can’t stand to look at you.”
“Perfect, let’s resort to name calling again. That’s even better than hitting me,” Potter snapped. “Look, I didn’t want things to go like this. I thought you understood.” He paused for a second, and his cold gaze, softened. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Malfoy. What did you really expect…a relationship?”
“I-I”
“Be rational…I’m going to be an Auror and you’re…well you. It would never work.”
“Get out, Potter. I don’t want to see your ugly face.”
Potter’s eyes darkened again, burning like emerald flames. “Real mature, Malfoy. Just toss me out once things don’t go your way.”
“FUCK YOU, Potter.”
“No, fuck you, Malfoy. You big fucking queer!”
Draco was seething now, his entire body shaking. “I’m the queer? Then what the hell are you?”
Potter laughed darkly, no longer using that deep chuckle that Draco had started to find endearing. “I’m not queer, Malfoy. I like women. And-I have a girlfriend.”
“Right…then go back to your sodding girlfriend before I hex your bollocks off.”
“Gladly,” Potter sneered and gathered up his belongings.
“And Potter,” Draco spat, “I never want to see you again.”
“Fine by me.”
“And make sure to tell your slag how much you like having a big, fat cock up your arse!”
“Screw you, Malfoy.”
“I already had you, Potter…and it was highly OVERRATED!”
“Right.”
With a quick shake of the head, Potter was gone, leaving Draco alone, livid, and naked in his dreary flat.
How could he ever have trusted Harry fucking Potter?
~8~8~8~
1 September 1999
“Harry is this really necessary?” Ginny scowled and motioned to the four men dressed in all black, who had been following their every move since leaving the car.
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, scratching his head and removing his ridiculously large sunglasses. She knew that Harry was trying to blend in and avoid making a scene at King’s Cross Station, since they were surrounded by hordes of wizarding families, but the over-sized shades actually made him look more conspicuous and kind of like a giant bug.
“Why do we need your bodyguards?” She tucked her hair behind her ears, even if shorter hair was easier it managed to fall into her eyes much too often. “You used to hate things like that.”
“Gin, they aren’t bodyguards.” He leaned in closer to her and whispered in her ear. “They’re Aurors and are off duty, but they are here for our protection, yours mostly.”
“Right,” Ginny said, with a loud sigh. “But do you think we could get a minute alone? Without your goons?”
Harry’s green eyes softened, and he put a hand on her face; his hand was rougher and more calloused than she had remembered and the slightest bit sweaty. Still, it was nice to be touched as if she were important again, as if she meant something; her heart fluttered slightly and she closed her eyes. It had been so very long since she felt anything at all. Once she opened her eyes, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear and smiled, his bright eyes watching her far too lovingly.
“I just care about you, Gin. Never forget that.”
“I know that,” she said, averting his watchful gaze, “but Voldemort’s dead. Is all this really necessary? It’s bad enough that Ron wouldn’t come and see me off.”
“Aww Gin, my darling Ginny,” he said, voice strangely dark. He pulled her close and ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s never over. You can’t defeat darkness, not really.”
She leaned in further to his embrace and took in his faint smell-old spice and bitter coffee, so very different from his old scent of freshly cut grass and syrup; he must have started using Ron’s shampoo and developed a taste for coffee in her absence, probably to counter all the sleepless nights. She thought that being in Harry’s arms again would be comforting, like coming home again, instead she felt as if were hugging a total stranger.
“I know,” she responded faintly. “I know.”
“Look,” he said, now releasing her from their embrace and grasping one of her hands. “I’ll call them off for a minute, but this really is best. Remember Moody?” She nodded reluctantly and squeezed his hand. “‘Constant Vigilance’ is the only way to prevent another Dark Lord from rising. I trust the new Ministry, Gin. And Ron will come around.”
“I know,” she said, feeling vaguely like a broken record and wishing she could somehow make Harry understand. How could he go along with all of this? The Harry she knew would never be so complacent to the Ministry or walk around in that absurd suit.
“Leave us.”
Harry ushered away the four men, who were dressed in black suits and black sunglasses. She let out a long breath, which she hadn’t realised she was holding and felt as if a large weight had been lifted from her shoulders. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that it was just like any other year and the entire Weasley clan had come along to see her off to school. Hell, she had always been so embarrassed-the only witch who had a loud and annoying sea of redheads seeing her off to school-as if she were some type of helpless child. Now, she would give anything to have her family here again, whole and happy. Or at least alive.
“So...you do feel the same then?” Harry asked, pulling her closer again.
“Huh? I mean, yeah.” She grinned at Harry and had no idea what she had just agreed to.
“That makes me so happy. I haven’t had much of a chance to speak with you since yesterday well... you know.”
“I locked myself in my room and refused to come out like a petulant child,” she supplied helpfully, smiling at Harry for real this time.
“Something like that.” He bent over and kissed her on the nose, his wiry hair tickling her. “Although, I have to say you are rather cute, even for a brat.”
“Hey!” she protested, but before she got a chance to defend herself, he leaned in and kissed her, hard-this time on the lips. At first she just stood there motionless, focusing on the hundreds of people that were witnessing their private moment, but then she let out a loud gasp and returned his deep kiss, pulling him closer and running her hands through his unruly hair. At least his hair was still the same. His lips were chapped and forceful-his mouth no longer held that delicate sweetness that had always been so uniquely Harry-rather he kissed her rough, so much rougher than he ever had before and tasted of strong mint and was that whisky? Had Harry been drinking? It was barely eleven in the morning; it just couldn’t be possible.
“Harry?” she said gasping, now resting her forehead against his. “I-I..why?”
“Because...I still love you. I never stopped and now you’re back.”
Ginny lifted her forehead from his and just stood there blinking. She had not been expecting that. At all.
“Harry,” she said again, still breathless. “I just got back and I’m leaving for school.”
“And?”
“And...I’m not sure if I’m ready to jump back into a relationship. So much has happened and in France...I...I-” Her hands were shaking now and her heart racing. She needed to make him understand and not push away the only person who seemed to care for her.
“I don’t care about France,” he said, his voice husky and deep. She had never heard him use that tone before. He grabbed her arm and tried to pull her closer; it was a causal gesture, a loving gesture even, but for some inexplicable reason, it made her chest constrict and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
“Harry, please,” she said again, her voice desperate now and wanting nothing more than to run away back to France, away from old boyfriends, dead brothers, and more darkness than she could ever imagine.
“I understand that,” he said using a calm voice, but his eyes were flashing dangerously, making Ginny uneasy. “Really I do. And we’ll take things slow, I promise. I just can’t lose you too. Not after everything else.”
“I-I need to leave. I don’t want to miss the train.”
“You won’t. You can’t. You need to...just...tell me you’re still mine, Gin.” His grip on her arm tightened considerably and his eyes glowed even more fiercely than before; she had never been afraid of Harry, but in that moment she understood how he had been able to defeat Voldemort, which caused a sharp pain to clench at her spine.
“Harry,” she cried, grimacing, “you’re hurting me. Stop it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it.” He released his tight grip and Ginny took back her arm, recoiling from him sharply as if a venomous snake had just bitten her.
“I love you.”
“Me too,” she said brusquely as she quickly leaned in and brushed her lips against his, trying her best not to cringe. “Now, I can’t have the train leaving without me.”
“Certainly not,” he said, smiling at her widely, his eyes twinkling and no longer angry. “Good thing I got you the last possible check in time, yeah?”
How could he go from livid to happy so easily?
“Take care of yourself,” she said sincerely as she grabbed her trunk and started heading for the train. It was 10. 58 and the train would be leaving in two minutes flat. “And Ron too.”
She didn’t wait for his response and scurried onto the train, cursing under her breath because she knew all the compartments would be full, especially with the new Ministry security this year.
~8~8~8~
“Fuck!” Ginny shouted as she got her heel caught in one of the cracks in between the train carts. She had carelessly shoved her overstuffed trunk onto the train, trying to buy herself some time, since she was already late for the 10.55 check in time that had been assigned to her. She furrowed her brow and bent over to massage her aching foot. Bloody hell. She knew that she shouldn’t have worn heels, but with her short hair, she looked years younger and wanted to look mature and put together for her first day of school. After all, everyone had been staring at her when she entered the station with not only Harry Potter but also his gang of minions.
“Miss Weasley.” A tall, hard faced woman, dressed in an all too familiar black suit, nodded at her in greeting. Her suit was identical to that of Harry and his Auror friends other than the golden Ministry logo that had been embroidered on the front pocket-Si vis pacem, para bellum-the Ministry’s AV-After Voldemort-new motto. Personally, Ginny thought that ‘If you want peace, prepare for war’ was only slightly better than the old Ministry’s motto, Voldemort’s Ministry, ‘Magic is might’. Still, it was infinitely better than the ‘Bellum Est Pacem’ posters she had seen displayed all over London with the new Minister of Magic and Harry shaking hands. She couldn’t believe that he actually agreed to such a ludicrous photo shoot, but that was neither here nor there. Right now, she had to deal with this Ministry bitch in front of her.
“Hello,” she said, readjusting her shoe and trying her best to feign at least a semblance of politeness.
“You are late,” the Ministry wench said frowning.
“Sorry about that. My shoe got away from me,” Ginny replied, trying to lighten the mood.
The stern woman ignored her attempt at humour and scanned over her clipboard, which also bore the Ministry seal.
“Ginevra Molly Prewett Weasley, only daughter and youngest member of the Weasley clan from Ottery St Catchpole, age 18.”
“Uh, yes, that’s right,” Ginny said, raising both eyebrows.
“You have now been checked in for your 7th year of Hogwarts. Before I inform you of your carriage assignment, please confirm your date of birth.”
“What?” The older woman sounded strangely like a Muggle robot, just like those she had seen in Jacqueline’s films, during the short time she had been at Beauxbatons.
“Your birthday, Weasley,” a bored voice, drawled behind her. “This lovely lady just wants to make sure you’re you...you know no Polyjuice or Slytherin antics, I’m sure.”
“Right.” Ginny turned around to find Pansy Parkinson standing in the small cart, her tanned arms crossed in front of her and red lips pursed in annoyance. Suddenly, the cart felt uncomfortably full with Pansy and Umbridge junior standing in such close proximity to her.
“11th of August 1981,” Ginny replied, avoiding Pansy’s amused glare.
“Very good,” the robot woman said. “You have been assigned to cart 1247. You must remain there for the entire trip to Hogwarts. Do you understand?”
“1247? Are you mad woman? There aren’t 1247 carts!” She had gone along with all the foolishness, but this was crossing the line.
“I can assure you miss that there is a cart 1247. I would be happy to escort you there.” Umbridge Jr. Looked as though there was nothing she wanted to do less than take her to her cart.
“That won’t be necessary,” Pansy said coolly, placing a perfectly manicured hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “I’ll escort Miss Weasley there myself.”
She grabbed Ginny by the arm and placed a Levitation Charm on her trunk.
“Come on.”
~8~8~8~
“Parkinson! I have no idea what you think you’re doing, but if you don’t want to end up on the wrong end of my wand, you’ll unhand me at once.”
“Fuck, Weasley, you really are a pill.” Pansy released Ginny’s arm, but blocked the path in front of her. “You must be a real firecracker in the sack, huh? Potter’s a lucky bloke indeed.” Pansy quipped, leering at her.
Ginny took a deep breath. This was her first day of school and she wasn’t going to let a colossal bitch like Pansy ruin it.
“Leave him out of it,” she warned, narrowing her eyes.
“Fine, fine.” Pansy waved her arms exasperatedly. “No more mentioning of the Boy-who-Scored.”
“What is it that you want Parkinson?”
“Call me, Pansy, darling” Pansy said brightly, rewarding her with a toothy grin that Ginny found frightening. “And I don’t want anything. I was just doing you a favour...saving you from that awful woman.”
She examined Pansy closely, trying to gage the other girl’s intentions. She knew Slytherins didn’t do anything without an ulterior motive. What was hers?
“Alright,” she said with a nod, “lead the way.”
“My pleasure,” Pansy replied with a smirk and a mock bow.
Ginny followed Pansy through the narrow compartments, which were a lot smaller than she remembered, and were now filled with rows and rows of students. It appeared that the students had been bunched into only a handful of ‘acceptable’ compartments rather than allowed to spread out amongst the entire train. There was also no sign of the trolley witch of whom Ginny had rather fond memories, especially her 5th year when both Michael and Dean had shown up with an armful of sweets for her, trying their best to win her over. Instead, armed guards patrolled the empty compartments aisles, making their way up and down the train making sure that no funny business or illegal use of magic was taking place.
When they came across the first armed guard, she shuddered briefly; they were dressed in long, black hooded robes that were embellished with the new Ministry logo. Clearly, they were harmless, but they brought back dreadful memories of her last train ride on the Hogwarts Express, swarmed by Dementors.
“Hey, it’s alright,” Pansy said, squeezing her shoulder. “They’re mainly here for show, but they did freak me out at first too.”
“It’s not that...it’s just-”
“Oh, trust me, I know, Weasley...or can I call you Ginny?” The older girl grabbed her arm again and looked hopeful. “They’re like something out of a nightmare.”
“Yes, exactly,” Ginny replied, allowing Pansy to continue leading her.
“Well, we’re here.” Pansy motioned to the compartment door in front of her. “After you.”
“Wait what?” Ginny glanced over at the compartment door. On a gold plate it read: Cart 6957
“This is the wrong cart.” Ginny ran a hand through her hair. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Is it?” Pansy asked, her dark eyes utterly amused. “Silly, me. Why don’t you join us then?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Ginny narrowed her eyes again. Why had she ever let Pansy lead her in the first place? How far was she from her assigned cart now? She hadn’t even paid attention to the strange numbering on their walk over.
“Because,” Pansy said casually, “I just thought you would feel more comfortable here. Away from all the guards and whispers you’d have endure in your assigned cart.” She was motioning with her hands again, her long nails painted a dark green with a silver stripe down the middle.
“Why are you doing this? You know who I am.” Ginny locked eyes with the Slytherin girl, who had never said more than two words to her at school-other than ‘Move slut’.
“Listen, darling, the war is over. And I won’t hold your familial tides against you, if you won’t hold mine against me.”
“I suppose that sounds fair,” Ginny said slowly. “Still, why should I trust you? You’re the girl who tried to turn Harry over to Voldemort!”
“That’s ancient history, love,” Pansy said dismissively, “Potter and I are good friends now. Didn’t he tell you?”
Ginny rolled her eyes at Pansy but didn’t respond.
“Anyway, your little friend is in our cart. And she’s just dying to see you.”
“What friend?”
“You know, the dreamy one...who’s all blonde hair and rainbows.”
“You mean, Luna?” Ginny asked, her stomach clenching painfully, thinking about her old friend who she hadn’t seen or spoken to in months.
“Yes,” Pansy replied, her dark eyes glittering mischievously. “Miss Lovegood is expecting you.”
“Very well, but you go first.” Ginny sighed again and fixed her hair in the window, hoping that Harry hadn’t mussed it too badly. “And Pansy, do call me Ginny,” she said with a big smile that was only partly fake.
~8~8~8~
Once Girl Weasley had been happily reunited with her little friend and the nauseating kisses and maudlin Gryffindor sentiments had been widely dispersed, Pansy snuck out of the compartment.
She never did learn to speak squealing girl, which is why she had always associated with Draco and his gang of boys rather than the Slytherin girls.
Most of the other 7th year Slytherins, the ones that mattered, or the Make-up year students as the Ministry officials had been calling them, were sitting in the cart that she had bribed the assigned patrolling guard generously in order to leave them alone. However, one very distinct Slytherin was missing from their little clique, a certain Draco Malfoy.
Although she was able to coerce him into shopping yesterday, even if he was an hour late, she hadn’t seen him at all since they boarded the train. She had a funny feeling that she knew where he would be though. Draco liked to pretend that he was all tough and prickly, and the truth was that he was prickly and bit of bastard, for the most part, but he was also fiercely protective and loyal to his friends as well as rather predictable. She walked over to the very last compartment in the train and disarmed the wards around it, smiling to herself that Draco had remembered to add their special Slytherins only wards, which had been added once Draco had caught Potter eavesdropping on their conversations.
“Mr Malfoy,” she said in a deep feigned voice, once she entered the compartment. “You are not in your assigned cart and I must escort you there immediately. Or else we will be forced to feed you to the Dementors”
Draco was curled up in his usual seat, his head resting on the window and his long legs clutched to his chest. That position looked wildly uncomfortable.
His head snapped up quickly and his grey eyes turned dark once they widened in recognition. “Bugger off, Pans,” he snapped. “I’m not in the mood. And I’ve already dealt with Dementors...if you don’t recall.”
“I can’t do that, love,” she said, shoving his feet off the seat in order to make room for her next to him and ignoring his last comment. “My cart is utterly lacking in snarky blond bastard and it’s such a long train ride. Do you have any idea where I can find one?” She laid her head on his shoulder and tried to refrain from laughing.
“No,” Draco pouted, lying his head on top of hers. “Don’t feel like entertaining today.”
“I know.” She patted his leg reassuringly. “But you shouldn’t be here alone.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she said, closing her eyes, “we can’t live in the past, Draco. They’re not coming back.”
“I know that,” he hissed.
“Do you?” She opened her eyes and removed her head from Draco’s shoulder. “It looks to me like you were in here thinking about old ghosts.”
“Am not.”
“Really? Then why were you sitting in your usual spot?”
“Didn’t realise,” Draco lied.
“Uh huh, you must have residual brain damage from all the alcohol you’ve consumed this summer,” Pansy said, patting his head as if he were a child. “Let’s see if I remember then.”
She rested her back against the armrest and patted her lap. “Come on, for old time’s sake.”
Draco frowned but placed his head in her lap anyway. She smiled at him sadly and started stroking his soft hair, just as she had done for the last few years. He sighed softly as she played with his hair, almost like a cat purring; the familiar gesture was comforting to both of them.
“Well, you grant me the privilege of stroking your hair,” she said fondly. “And then Theo would sit in the corner, facing away from us and pretending to read a book.”
“Bloody tosser,” Draco muttered.
“Won’t argue there, he was a terrible shag.”
“Eww, Pans. I don’t want to hear about your deviant behaviour. And with Theo. Ugh.”
“Anyway,” Pansy said rolling her eyes again. She tended to do that a lot when Draco was in one of his many moods. “Daphne and Millicent would sit over there.” She motioned to the far seat across from Theo’s seat. “They would always read those rubbish gossip magazines and giggle obnoxiously until we kicked them out.”
“Good times.”
“Yes,” Pansy agreed, still stroking Draco’s hair. “And...Blai-se would sit right across from us,” she said softly, only hitching slightly on their dead friend’s name, “sprawling out on the entire seat with his eye mask, claiming that he needed his-”
“Sodding beauty rest. I remember,” Draco added, now chuckling lightly. “Gods, I miss him. And-”
“And Vince would wander up and down the aisles, going from cart to cart looking for the Trolley witch.” She sighed and shook her head. “He would forget how to disarm the wards or forget which compartment was ours.” She paused for what was only a second but felt like an eternity. “Then Greg would go find him. They could never be apart for too long,” she finished, her voice breaking on the last couple of words.
Tears were filling her eyes now and she had to swallow heavily to hold them back.
“Don’t you dare mention that name to me!” Draco jumped up from her lap, his eyes flashing violently. “He’s dead to me.”
“But Draco,” Pansy said softly, her voice shaking, “it wasn’t his fault.”
“No, it was mine. But you know what he did and now Vince is gone.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes and banged her against the window. “But Greg is going to stay in Azkaban for the rest of his life. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
“No,” Draco said firmly. “It won’t bring Vince back or Blaise or Daphne or any of the others we lost.”
Pansy grimaced. “You’re right. Absolutely right. I’m sorry for bringing it up. Can we talk about something else? Anything else.”
“Like what?”
Pansy knew this was the perfect opportunity to spring her little plan on Draco; he was most vulnerable right now. She really should feel bad about manipulating Draco like this, but in the end, this was for his own good. He would thank her eventually.
“Well-” Pansy’s dark eyes lit up like a child on Christmas, “you’ll never guess who we have sitting in our cart. You’ll just die.”
“Who Potter?” Draco said scowling darkly. “I saw him at the platform not that Saint Potter even bothered to acknowledge me.”
Pansy smiled widely at her best friend, her evil smile that she only wore when they were scheming. “Better,” she said smugly, “his redheaded slag.”
“And what do I want with her?” Draco scoffed, scrunching his nose as if he had just gotten a whiff a foul smell.
“She’s Potter’s new toy...or old toy I guess you could say.”
“So?”
“So, darling, are you a Slytherin or are you not?” Pansy asked brightly.
Draco looked confused but didn’t say anything.
“Listen to me,” she said firmly, now grasping Draco’s hands. “Potter broke your heart.”
“He did not break my heart...”
“Whatever. Don’t interrupt,” Pansy snapped. “You want revenge on him, right?” Draco nodded at her solemnly. “Then what better way to get revenge then to play with his little toy? He doesn’t seem like the type that likes to share.”
“Pansy!” Draco cried after a long beat, his grey eyes lighting up considerably. “That’s brilliant.”
“Don’t look so shocked. I am a genius after all.”
“Quite right, dear.” He threw his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek almost suffocating her in the process.
“Blimey! Who knew all it took to get you hot and heavy was some talk of revenge and scheming?”
Draco laughed loudly, a deep chortle, and the first genuine laugh she had heard from him in a long time.
“We need to start the scheming right away.”
“Naturally, darling, naturally.”
Pansy preened in the train window, attempting to fix the stray strands that Draco had just mussed. He was prattling away excitedly, his grey eyes vivid and hands waving around.
Yes, it felt like old times again. After all, they had lost an entire year of scheming. They had a lot to make up for.
~8~8~8~
15 September 1999, late morning
Draco was pacing, back and forth furiously, or at least as furiously as he could pace in the Dungeon cupboard. He had been waiting for over an hour for Pansy and was going spare. As a Malfoy he had many virtues, but patience was not one of them. She was avoiding him, quite successfully too, but he was smarter and would catch her off guard. Nobody beat Draco Malfoy at his own game, not even Pansy.
If he knew her as well as he hoped, she should be showing up quite soon. They had History of Magic now and Pansy usually skived off to take a nap. In order to avoid Draco, she would probably show up a few minutes early, but he was ready for her.
Surely enough, at precisely 10. 35, ten minutes earlier than her usual appearance, Pansy showed up in the dungeon hall, but before she even had a chance to react, Draco jumped out and grabbed her, covering her mouth and pulling her into the Dungeon cupboard. He locked the door behind them and leaned against the door, arms firmly crossed in front of him.
“Parkinson,” he said darkly.
“Draco, darling,” Pansy replied cheerfully, “what a pleasant surprise.”
She leaned in to give him a quick kiss in greeting, but Draco pushed her away. Draco was not amused and did not feel like dealing with Pansy’s bullshit right now.
“Don’t you dare try to darling me. You’ve been avoiding me,” he accused, his eyes narrowed and tone matter-of-factly.
“Of, course not,” Pansy replied, avoiding Draco’s glare and brushing the invisible lint off her skirt. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you’ve failed me, Pansy.”
Pansy stared at him all wide-eyed and innocent, fluttering her long eyelashes and pretending that she had no idea what he was talking about. But Draco knew better. He wasn’t one of their ancient professors that she could just sweet talk.
“Let me refresh your memory then,” he sneered. “The She-Weasel. You were supposed to befriend her...get her to trust you...so I can make my move.”
“Christ Draco,” she scoffed, a dark, manic chuckle escaping her red lips. “Is that all?” she asked, her eyes flashing mischievously. “Darling you are always so dramatic about everything.” She stepped closer to him and stared him straight in the eyes, her gaze never wavering even when he narrowed his eyes into his infamous Malfoy death glare.
“I don’t have time for your games, Pansy.”
“No one is playing games. I have the situation under control...just trust me.”
“Why should I?” Draco snapped, looking his friend over closely. Pansy might be his best friend, but she loved to play games, lived for the drama, and frankly, she was almost as good of a liar as he was.
“It’s only been two weeks, relax. All that stress will give you worry lines,” she quipped.
“I do not have-” Draco closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Losing his temper with Pansy was not going to get him anywhere. “Explain your plan then.”
“Well,” Pansy said, playing with her hair, “I didn’t want to scare her off...naturally.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I wanted to run my plan by you first. After all, you are the best when it comes to scheming.”
“Indeed,” Draco muttered, pretending that he was indifferent, but secretly he was pleased with her acknowledgement.
Pansy batted her eyelashes again and pouted. “It’s brilliant really, but you might not like it.”
“Why is that, dear?”
“It involves Lovegood,” Pansy replied seriously. Draco eyes widened at the mention of Luna; he hadn’t wanted to involve her in this ordeal but nodded at Pansy to continue.
“I want to invite her to stay at the Slytherin dorms from now on. We have plenty of extra beds...and I want to make her an honorary snake.”
Pansy paused and looked at Draco, pursing her lips. Draco knew that she was anxious as to what his reaction would be-this was as troubled as Pansy would ever look.
Draco ran a hand through his hair and let Pansy fret for a few moments before responding.
“You will not hurt her in any way,” he instructed, his tone brusque and commanding.
“Never,” Pansy replied, putting her hand on her heart. “I promise. She’s yours.”
“That’s right.” Draco grinned smugly at her. “And it is a rather devious plan. But why all the concern?”
Pansy paled. “I-I just thought you might not be comfortable with me using Luna. That’s all.”
Draco raised an eyebrow at her.
“I mean you’ve said multiple times that she’s off limits.”
Draco smirked at her and put a hand on his forehead, as if pretending to faint. “Oh, Pansy, you wound me.” Pansy looked concerned, but didn’t say anything. “You think I’ve gone soft, don’t you? With the whole Potter fiasco and Luna.”
“I-I” Pansy averted her eyes and hung her head.
“Don’t be ashamed.” Draco sighed and stepped closer to Pansy. “I would probably think the same thing if I were in your position, but it’s not true.” He put a hand under Pansy’s chin and tilted it up to him. “Look at me, dear. I know that things have been strange lately, but I’m still me. And we will be us again, starting with this sinister plot.” Pansy leaned into his touch and he brought her close. “You’re still my number one, Pans,” he whispered in her ear. “And we’re Slytherins. I’m not opposed to manipulating our friends...if it’s for the greater good and they don’t get hurt.”
“The greater good?”
“Yes, us,” Draco replied cheekily.
Pansy laughed and kissed him on the forehead. “It’s good to have you back, love,” she said. “And don’t worry, Draco. Once we’re done with Weasley...Potter’s toy will not only be used. It’ll be broken.”
Draco smiled widely and embraced the other girl, reminding himself as to why Pansy was his best friend.
“That’s my girl. Now, let’s get out of this cupboard. The rumours of our romantic reconciliation are probably flying like mad.”
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part 5