Chapter 14
xoXOXox
Days had passed like crawling snails, sluggish and filled with slime. The knowledge of what Pans had been doing an ugly gash across the lot of them. Drake stayed next to Granger, keeping the chaos at bay the best he could. Potter's place at the blonde's side seemed to be as permanent a thing as he kept some promise none of them knew fully. He and Blaise kept Pansy between them, never leaving her alone for long. She chafed under the constant guard, but he knew her well enough to know deep down she loved them all the more for their unfailing loyalty and love. It had been a struggle to be sure.
Severus had been discreet in personally making the potion needed and before every meal, Pans dutifully swallowed it with a huff and a grimace. So far, she had kept almost every meal down. Even in just a few days, the results could be seen.
Weasley was the one he was most worried about at the moment. The redhead had pulled into himself so far that not even a smile from Granger or Potter could reach him. Sadness, such drowning sorrow, covered him like a soul stealing blanket. His eyes, broken and bleeding his pain, made an ache settle deep in Theo’s own chest. Theo had never had the luxury to feel such intense emotions. From his first memory, he was taught to hide his feelings behind pureblood pride and hateful snark. Even the death of his mother was just another passing day. The few tears he was unable to hold back brought on a beating that left him in no way confused about what was expected of him.
Pansy, against all their urging, refused to even look at the ginger wizard, let alone talk to him. Theo knew it was because she was confused what his meddling made her feel. Betrayed that he gave up her final secret. Scared that what they were forcing her to do to get healthy physically would hinder her future. Worried she had been wrong in her choices. Terrified of the feeling Weasley's actions provoked.
Theo knew that outside their circle, no one had ever cared enough to accept her hatred to protect her. The three of them, Drake, Blaise, and himself, were like brothers to her. Anyone of them would marry her to keep her safe but it would have been weird. Now, there was a wizard, one with a shining reputation, who had put himself in the line of fire just to see her heal and be healthy. He knew the upheaval would be tilting her world sideways. And Pansy didn't do well with things that confused her point of view.
It was finally Friday. One last day of classes. One last day of hateful glares and hexing being thrown their way. The ritual was being done tonight to settle the Gryffindor princess and tomorrow their new mind healer would be coming. Everyone was on edge and Theo could only hope the feeling of impending doom was just a lasting effect of his mental state and not an actual sign of how today would go. He was so tired. In body. In mind. Tired of the panic that was always just a hair's breadth away. He just wanted rest from it all. Just for one single day. He just wanted to be able to breathe.
Blaise watched the new odd trio in front of him as they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Granger leaning on Draco caused an odd sting in his chest he didn’t quite want to examine just yet. The past few days had been interesting, to say the least. Suddenly, every word uttered between him and the small, dangerous package of muggle born witch had been fraught with sass and sarcasm, wit and humor. If he didn’t know better, and he was sure at this point he very well may not, they were flirting.
It was never soft or sweet. All the flowery words he would have normally used seemed to be absent anytime he opened his damn mouth when conversing with her. Instead, it was dark banter and backhanded compliments wrapped in insults that somehow made him yearn to turn her eyes to him the moment she rolled them and looked away. He didn’t know why but after that first back and forth, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from poking at her verbally. It was a damn inconvenient compulsion but for the very life of him, he couldn’t just stop.
As if she felt his eyes on her, her head tilted to the side as she sent a smoldering glare over her shoulder at him. He should have dropped his eyes. Should have given a nonverbal look of apology for seemingly stalking her with his every gaze. Instead, he raised that ‘infernal eyebrow of sarcasm’ that his friends hated so much and tilted his head in challenge. Damn it. Why couldn’t he stop provoking her? What the hell had gotten into him? He was normally in control of every single thought he had and move he made. Yet, with her, he just reacted with no thought to the consequences or who might see. This was moving into territory he was smart enough to know to stay away from.
Trying to reel in his wayward reaction, internally telling his eyes to look away and stop holding her gaze, he watched that familiar fire wash over the deep brown of her eyes. That. That look. That was why he had seemingly lost his Salazar fucking mind. That look sent every spark of magic in him burning out of control.
She was a Merlin be damned menace.
Whatever hold she had over him, it was ruining every wall he had built, every truth his mother had told him about the way the world was and the way it would always be. Girls like Granger didn’t give the time of day to boys like him. When this ritual was done and she was relatively back to herself, he would be just another evil Slytherin that came into and out of her life. He would mean less than thestral shit under her thick heeled boot.
As if he sensed something was going on, Potter turned his head to look past Draco to Granger before turning his head to look back at him. Brows pulled down in confusion before that odd quirk of his lips happened and he looked back around, hands still lazily slid into his pockets. Blaise didn’t fucking understand.
Potter was supposed to be her best friend, her brother, her protector. Why did he keep letting this happen? Why did he look almost amused instead of furious? Why did he allow someone as low and unworthy as him continue this fucked up game with Granger? It didn’t make sense and everything in his life made sense. They were driving him to distraction and that was dangerous.
He had to protect his friends and himself until they could escape this piece of shit hell hole. This was stupid. It was illogical and irresponsible. And yet, turning his eyes back to hers, none of that matters. Only the banked promise of retribution in her eyes. He wanted her to snap. He wanted her to burn. And Salazar help him, he wanted to burn alive with her. His mother was right. He slipped up, let his guard down. And now, he was going to fall to ruin for a pair of gorgeous eyes that belonged to a witch he had no business craving. Fuck.
Ron walked quietly in the back of the group making sure no one had a chance to fling any hexes at Zabini or Nott as they walked Pansy to the Great Hall. He wasn’t concerned for Malfoy. At this point, anyone crazy enough to have a go at him being between Mione and Harry had whatever happened coming to them. He tried to take comfort in that. Tried to be happy that his best friends seemed to have found solid ground, purpose in the miasma of darkness they had fallen into.
A part of him did feel it. But he couldn’t seem to show it. His lips wouldn’t tilt up. He couldn’t feel the light reach his eyes. It was just too much. Too much sorrow. Too much pain. Too many tears threatening to pour out and never stop. It took all that he was just to keep moving one foot in front of the other every day. He knew if he stopped moving, stopped pushing, he would never move again.
He wanted to say he didn’t know why. Wanted to deny it. Wanted to lie to himself until his lies became the truth. But he knew better than that. He was better than that. The war had changed him, had changed them all. He may have said he would gladly take her hate if it meant she would get better. He had meant it when he said it. Still meant it. He just didn’t expect the toll it would take on him to have her truly hate him again. Every swallow felt like razor blades along his throat. Every sound was too loud, too much, when his insides felt frozen solid and still. She didn’t just hate him. She had shut him out.
He could still feel her in his arms as she cried. Could feel the weaving of his magic to hers as he tried to hold what pieces he could together as she shattered. When the dust settled, she had seemed to stalk from her cave, angry, with claws out and fangs bared. Pissy and spiteful, she had taken to her new reality of being watched and forced to take better care of herself like a dragon from the sanctuary, safe from poachers and still just as ravenous with rage at her protectors.
And he. He had somehow switched places with her. Where she seemed to find her feet through her anger and start moving forward, he remained behind, shattering minute by minute under her glare. He thought he had found some semblance of peace, of wholeness before they left the healing spa. It seemed that the only thing he had found was a respite before the next loss broke him again. He didn’t realize someone outside his immediate family and his two best friends could do it. It never even occurred to him that somewhere between healing her knees and palms and holding her through her tears, he had fallen into caring for Pansy Parkinson as more than just the poor, abused, broken Slytherin witch.
She mattered.
Her feelings and thoughts and opinions mattered. Wouldn’t she get a kick out of knowing after all the years of their insults and teasing, it was her lack of attention that finally dug deep enough into his thick head and skin to tear him apart.
Weasley is our King indeed. King of useless hopes and idiotic dreams. As if he ever had a chance to gain the affection or friendship of Pansy Parkinson. He was beneath her. He always had been, and he always would be. Maybe he was one of the twins’ experiments. He did seem to be the laughing joke out of everyone here.
xoXOXox