This was originally my entry to the Quills and Parchment 'Scandal' One Shot competition

Thanks to my beta tenderheartinablender

Pansy Parkinson glided across the crowded ballroom, revelling in her success. She had organised this fundraiser, ostensibly to raise money for war orphans, not that the guests here gave a damn about them any more than she did. They just wanted a party and she was happy to provide. The fact that it helped the reputation she was trying to build as one of the good guys was really just a bonus.

Approaching the fundraising table, she saw Thorfinn Rowle throwing a couple of galleons into a cauldron already half full of coins and leaned close by to his ear,

"Do the Ministry know you still have a Crushing Cabinet stashed away in your house, Finnie?"

He grimaced, pulling a drawstring purse from within his robes, and dumped it ungraciously into the cauldron.

"Good boy," Pansy patted him on the shoulder, "Don't forget, it's for the children," she pouted, before continuing on her tour of the room.

She nodded at the photographer she always paid to attend these type of events. It was an investment that was often richly rewarded. She had tipped him off to try and get some pictures of Ludo Bagman carrying on his illegal gambling, on the camera he kept concealed about his person. As well as using them as leverage to help convince him to part with his cash, it was always useful to have a celebrity in your pocket.

At last, she caught the flash of blonde that alerted her to the very person she had been looking for. She pulled up her elbow length black gloves and adjusted the front of her emerald green ball gown to show off her assets to their best advantage before frowning at the pretty young witch who was dancing with the subject of her attention.

"Stepbrother," she smirked, as the witch scurried off, allowing her to take her place.

Draco grasped one of her hands and slid his other arm around her waist, snapping her body against his, his eyes drawn to the swell of her breasts above her gown.

"I do wish you wouldn't call me that, it's so pervy," he murmured, his lips against her ear.

"It's not my fault mummy dearest couldn't keep her legs together for five minutes while Lucius was doing his time,"

"Nor is it mine that your father couldn't help himself sniffing round for a new woman to warm his bed before your mother's side had even cooled."

Pansy nodded in acquiescence, her scarlet slicked lips curved into a smile, "Well thank you for finding the time to attend my little soiree, I would've thought you would have been at the Quidditch final, seeing as you have a vested interest in the captain of the Holyhead Harpies."

"Amelia? I ditched her this morning – I've got a hundred galleon bet on Puddlemere United to win. Poor girl looked like she'd be crying too hard to see the snitch if it flew in front of her face. I don't bet that kind of money unless I can make sure the odds are in my favour."

Pansy nodded her approval, her hand roving down over the front of his robes, "Meet me in my bedroom, ten minutes."

Malfoy watched her sweep from the room and up the grand staircase without a backwards glance, grateful for the roominess of dress robes to hide his embarrassment.

When he pushed open the door, he found Pansy deeply concentrating on reading a book. He would have found this suspicious in the usually unscholarly witch, even if she hadn't been naked save her satin gloves, a thong and ridiculously high heels. He swallowed down the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat and forced himself to lounge in the chair that had been positioned in the centre of the room – he knew how Pansy loved to set up her little tableaux and how it was almost always to his advantage to play along.

She pretended to read the book for another minute or two; long enough for him to grow tired of ogling even her exquisite arse, and become impatient for the main event.

"What is it Pans?" He sighed eventually, knowing she hated the shortening of her name as much as he hated being reminded of their familial ties. She looked up, as though surprised, and strutted over to him slowly, allowing him to drink in every detail of her.

She straddled his lap, gripping onto the back of the chair with each hand.

"I'm frustrated," she whined, pouting her lips out and giving him puppy dog eyes. Merlin, if it wasn't for the hot feel of her sex grinding against his rapidly hardening cock, he would have laughed, "Things aren't going my way and I'm finding it very….frustrating," she punctuated the word with a roll of her hips, jutting her breasts towards him.

"Can't your boyfriend do something about it?" Draco asked, as he kissed a line from her collarbone down to her nipple.

"It's his fault," she hissed, her eyes narrowing, "Honestly, if it wasn't for his connections I would have dropped him like a stone weeks ago. That and the fact he's hung like a horse. It's taken me months to get his stupid family to start to like me, and just as I started to get close to his sister, well; I assume you've seen the Prophet today,"

Draco's hands took over where his mouth had been occupied, "Yes, Harry Potter goes off for another hopeless mission to search for dark artefacts, which may involve camping in a tent for many long months with his best friend, confirmed bachelor, Ron Weasley. Ginny Weasley heartbroken as he calls off romance again. Bad luck - you didn't even get a mention,"

"Exactly! All this effort, trying to get close to Potter, shagging his idiot ginger pal, wasted. It would have helped my fundraising efforts so much to have Harry Potter figureheading my cause,"

"And further aid your reputation as a do-gooder and get everyone to forget the fact that you were happy to hand the boy who lived over to the Dark Lord. So with the Weasel gone, you've got blue balls, is that it?"

Pansy laughed coldly, "That's the least of it. He's dumped the little sister on me while he goes off gallivanting and I cannot tell you how irritating it is to have her cluttering up the place. But there's something else. He stayed over before he left and….well…he was obviously having a dream," Pansy scowled, "He kept saying her name. It wasn't the first time either. And seeing as he isn't around to cut his bollocks off, I feel like I should settle for ruining everything he cares about," she looked thoroughly put out.

"So you're just jealous? Your pretty little nose been put out of joint by the Gryffindor Princess?" he tapped his finger onto Pansy's nose that, with the aid of a lot of very expensive and very secret muggle plastic surgery, was now more like a perfect button than the pug-like proboscis she had sported at school.

"Jealous? Of her? A buttoned up, prematurely aged spinster, who spends every spare minute rebuilding that old ruin of a school! Teaching Defence against the Dark Arts to a load of little shits who wouldn't even know dark magic if it bit them on the arse. The way Ron used to cum within ten seconds of me sucking his dick, I bet she's frigid,"

Draco couldn't help the snort of derisive laughter that escaped his lips, although he regretted it instantly, knowing that the jealous witch on his lap would make him pay for it.

"You don't agree Malfoy?" she asked sharply, leaning away from him.

"Don't forget, I've been on the receiving end of Granger's hot temper. I bet she's a feisty little minx when she wants to be."

He slipped his hands behind her back, massaging her shoulders, digging into that little spot she liked and she soon melted back against him

"Oh, you bet do you? How much?

"What?" Draco laughed in disbelief.

"Would you bet your broom? That you could unbutton the prissy Miss Granger?"

"And what would I get if I win? That would be a seriously unenjoyable task, it would require masses of legwork, and you know how much I hate that," Draco pretended to consider it, even though he knew he would take the wager for a bag of Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"Me," she said simply, "You can do whatever you want to me. Even that thing you've been begging me for that I always say no to."

Draco inhaled sharply as her hand slipped down between his legs, running up and down the length of him through his trousers, "What makes you think I'd go for that? It's a ten thousand galleon broom,"

"Because I'm the only person you can't control and it kills you. So do we have a bet? You seduce Hermione Granger and I'm all yours."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as she continued rubbing him.

Pansy grinned, "And you'll help me with Ginny? I'd be very, very grateful."

"I think I might have enough on my hands with Granger. I'll need to give her my full attention."

"Shame," said Pansy sadly, stepping off his lap and magicking her dress back on, unscrewing a pewter vial she wore on a chain round her neck and taking a deep sniff from it as she did so. "Anyway, I'd better go, the auction starts in five minutes and I want to make sure I encourage that idiot Bagman to bid highly."

As she left the room, Draco tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling, unsure of what he had got himself into. He suspected he had been manipulated but couldn't quite work out how.

oOoOoOo

Draco knocked on the heavy wooden door, a battered suitcase in hand. His travelling cloak and boots were shabbier than he would have liked but he felt that they were integral to his plan. Old McGonagall peered out at him, the lantern in her hand illuminating the curls of mist that followed him in from the wintry Scottish moors.

"Come in Mr. Malfoy, before we freeze to death. I must say I'm surprised to see you back here so soon after your graduation, but your predecessor, Professor Slughorn speaks very highly of you, so we'll see how we all get on shall we?" Her eyes roved over the patches and darns on his heavy wool cloak, obviously trying to decide if he had fallen on hard times and that was why he had taken the job. He smiled insouciantly at her and fiddled with the clasp of his case. It was a fine line between making her feel sorry for him enough to override her doubts and hamming it up too much. Fortunately, she seemed to have bought it so far and had offered him a temporary post as Potions Master until the end of the year.

Headmistress McGonagall ushered him to the staff room and introduced him to the rest of the teachers. Ridiculous, really, as they had all taught him up until last year. The only notable exception was the one that interested him the most, but she barely looked up from the book she was reading to acknowledge him. As soon as pleasantries had been dispatched, he slipped into the empty seat next to her.

"Wuthering Heights? I'd never have had you down as a romantic, Granger. The way you were pressing your nose to the pages, I figured it must be a text book or something,"

"Malfoy," she sighed, not even bothering to close her book, "I'd heard you were coming to teach here."

"That tone, Granger, some people might consider that hurtful. I hope you don't speak to your students like that."

At this she slammed her book shut, "Look. I don't know why you've come to teach here and I don't care. All I care about is that I get to teach and carry on with my work to repair the damage done to the school. Unless this conversation is in some way going to aid me in either of those aims, I feel that we may as well end it now," she folded her hands in her lap and looked at him inquiringly.

He quirked his head to mirror her action, smiling benignly, "I'm interested. Is it that you think you're so good at magic that you're the only one who can rebuild Hogwarts or –"

He didn't even get to finish the sentence before she got up and walked off.

That evening, Draco paced up and down in the potions dungeon. He had set about arranging the room to his fancy but had found himself too annoyed to concentrate and had ended up having arguments in his head with Granger. Deciding that having it out with her in person would be more enjoyable, he set out to check her timetable and track her down.

He knocked firmly on the door of the newly installed detention room. Even this irritated him more than it should – that the students sat in neat rows, writing lines like muggles – another improvement brought in by Miss Hermione Granger who had deemed punishments like being sent into the Forbidden Forest as too dangerous for children. She was right, of course, and that irritated him most of all. She had protested as he had beckoned her out of the room, but he had mouthed that it was urgent through the glass window and with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she had told her pupils that she would be back in a moment and followed him out to the transfiguration courtyard.

"What do you want?" she demanded, hands on hips and half an eye down the corridor to the detention room.

"You're a hypocrite, you know that?" he crossed his arms over his chest, a flash of annoyance lighting up his silver eyes.

Hermione just huffed and turned on her heel, her hair swirling behind her as she made to return to the detention hall.

Undeterred, he called after her, "You teach defence against the dark arts but you don't even dare to leave the castle. You read all of those romance novels but you ditched the man who was madly in love with you because he wanted to go off and be an auror -"

"Don't you dare even presume," she hissed, stalking back towards him. For a moment he thought she was going to slap him.

"You gave your childhood to free the wizarding world and now you've done it, you're happy to waste your adult life here, babysitting delinquents in detention."

"I have responsibilities!" she shouted, and it felt like she was pouring the slap into her words, "Not that you would understand any of that."

"You're desperate for house elves to have equal rights but you won't even give me the time of day, just because I…well...you know what. If that's not hypocritical, I don't know what is,"

She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it abruptly. Pressing his advantage, he pulled a muggle cigarette out his robes and lit it with the end of his wand.

"Going to report me?" he raised an eyebrow at her challengingly, "Perhaps I can do detention with your students. I'd offer you one but I know you're far too uptight…"

Hermione snatched the cigarette out of his hand and took one deep draw before exhaling, tilting her head upwards to watch the smoke disperse into the wind. Malfoy looked at her in profile – her hair, which he hadn't been able to turn to look at the board in potions class without getting a mouthful of, her caramel coloured eyes, her lips turned down at the corners.

Abruptly, she snapped her attention back to him, throwing the illicit cigarette on the floor and stamping it out, "For the record, Malfoy, it's not because you used to be a death eater that I'm avoiding you. It's because you're a bully. It's because you use women for sport – I've heard your bedroom may as well have a revolving door on it. And I heard what you did to Amelia Parker last month."

"So you'd believe rumours from the Prophet's gossip column without even listening to my side of the story?"

"Ginny said they lost the cup because of you," too late she seemed to realise that she had said too much, but made no effort to retract the statement.

"Oh Ginny said? Well it must be true then! Honestly, Hermione, I would have thought better of you," Draco stormed back towards the castle, his hands itching to throttle the mouthy redhead.

Once back in his chambers, he snatched up a piece of parchment and a quill, angrily dashing off a quick note to Pansy.

Changed my mind, I'll help you with your lodger.

oOoOoOo

Ginny rolled her shoulder, cursing under her breath as she tried to reach behind and rub the aching joint. Pansy slipped out of her chair and began massaging the younger witch's shoulders.

"You're so tense!" Pansy exclaimed, working at the knots in the younger witch's shoulders and earning a groan of pleasure from her.

"Just a Quidditch injury, I came off my broom last week," Ginny grumbled, "I can't seem to find any pain potions that even touch it."

"You know who's great at brewing potions?" Pansy asked keenly, coming to sit down next to Ginny and clasping her hands in hers, "Draco! I bet he could help you. Truth is, he's been brewing 'recreational' potions for a few years now….I can't say that I approve but I bet he'd be able to give you something to help you out."

Ginny just raised her eyebrow at Pansy, "Draco? I mean….I know he's your stepbrother, and you've been so good letting me stay here -"

"Stop it!" Pansy batted at her gently, "I told you, while Harry and Ron are away, it makes sense, us keeping each other company. Listen, I know that Draco comes across as quite the prick but he's a good guy, honestly."

"Well, there was that thing with Draco and Amelia Parker. And he and Harry don't exactly see eye to eye," Ginny interjected.

"Harry isn't here though, is he?" Pansy observed shrewdly.

Ginny's eyes shone but she held her chin up bravely. Pansy could tell she was thinking it over. "Maybe you could send Draco an owl for me and ask him if he can recommend something,"

"Even better, he's coming over here in a minute, you could ask him yourself." As if she had summoned him, Draco strode into the room.

"Perfect timing Draco," Pansy rose to air kiss him, "We were just talking about you."

"All good I hope," he smiled, chucking Pansy on the chin with exaggeratedly wholesome affection, watching as Ginny reddened and scowled.

"Ginny's got a bad shoulder. I told her you'd brew her something decent for the pain. I'll leave you two alone to discuss it," she said airily and breezed from the room.

"You really don't need to put yourself out at all, Malfoy. If you could just recommend a decent potion, I'm sure I can pick one up in Diagon Alley -" Ginny seemed determined to only be as civil as good manners would dictate.

Draco laughed gently, "I'm pretty sure that whatever I give you, you won't be able to pick up at Diagon Alley."

Ginny's eyes widened and she folded her arms across her chest, "It's not dark magic is it? I've only got a sore shoulder," she held her arm protectively across her chest as though she was afraid Draco was going to curse it off.

"Of course not! I know you don't think much of me, or trust me at all, but please remember that I'm now a respected Potions Master. But, if you don't want this healing draught," he pulled a flask from his robes, shaking his head sorrowfully,"then I'm not going to force it down your throat."

"Oh give it here," Ginny sighed, snatching the potion from his hand and throwing it back in one deep swallow. Draco regarded her closely for a moment as a smile spread across her face and she visibly relaxed her tense position.

"How does your shoulder feel?"

Ginny giggled, turning slowly to look at him with pupils like saucers, "It's still killing me, only now I don't care."

"Oops," he smirked, "I may have underestimated the strength of the Shrivelfig I used. I blame Longbottom – he's always producing plants that are far more effective than they should be. It keeps throwing my potions out of whack. You know, maybe he's the person you need to speak to," he looked deep in thought for a moment, "Yes, I think he might be the man to help you with this."

Ginny laughed, "Neville's terrible at potions!" She draped herself around Draco's neck.

"Potions yes, but he could provide you with the herbs and plants you need and you could brew them yourself. Pansy said you're having trouble finding a decent pain potion so there's obviously a gap in the market. You and him could go into business together. I think you'd be great at it."

"Wow, thanks Draco, I'll owl him and ask him," Ginny rested her head on his shoulder, patting his chest in what he imagined to be a gesture of gratitude.

"And another thing. I've heard you've told Hermione Granger some pretty nasty things about me. Why was that?"

"I don't know," Ginny looked puzzled, as though it was someone else who must have said it.

"So you'll tell her you were wrong?"

Ginny nodded, still gazing in awe at him.

"You know, I'm not sure Harry would be too pleased to hear you've been making potions with me like this."

"Screw Harry Potter. I feel like I've spent my whole life waiting around for him and do you know what? He doesn't give a damn." She leaned in and kissed Draco full on the lips, open-mouthed and enthusiastic.

Draco opened his eyes to see Pansy watching from the doorway. He lowered the redhead down onto the sofa where she stretched like a cat, purring with pleasure. With an exaggerated wipe of his mouth, he bounded out of the room to join her. They snuck a look back in at Ginny spread out blissfully and smiled indulgently at each other, almost like parents who had put their child to bed.

"What did you give her?" Pansy chuckled as a soft snore issued from Ginny's lips.

"It's a neat little potion, invented it myself. Bit of this, bit of that. Two drops of Amortentia, just a dash of Felix, a healthy glug of Calming Draught. Side effects include lowered inhibitions, extreme suggestibility, and drowsiness. I call it the 'Get Whatever the Fuck I Want' elixir." He swiped his finger around the bottom of the flask and held it out to Pansy, inhaling deeply as she sucked the digit deeply into her mouth.

"Yummy," she hummed, smiling smugly. "Well it ought to get things moving in the right direction, at any rate. What changed your mind?"

"Like I said to her, she's been badmouthing me to Granger and it was completely unfounded."

"And that's why you're losing your bet?"

"I'm not losing the bet. It's just taking longer than I expected."

Pansy just smiled and picked an invisible speck from his lapel. "We'll see. Do you mind if I take my new broom for a ride? Just to see how it handles."

"Pans, the only thing you're going to be riding is me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do. If she doesn't wake up in the next four hours, let me know."

oOoOoOo

How Pansy hated Hogsmeade, she sighed, as she sat gingerly on the grimy seat outside the Hog's Head, waiting. Always overflowing with sticky fingered children and the tat peddlers that tried to part them with their sickles and galleons. However, it was early, the village was just sleepily coming to life, the morning sun sparkling on leaded windows as it rose above the imposing castle on the hill, and at least she had the Prophet to amuse her, practically still warm off the presses.

Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley Exposed. Camping Trip a front for Gay Sex Romp

See our exclusive photos inside – too hot to put on the front cover!

The creaking of the bench and a sour scent of stale gin alerted her that her appointment had arrived.

"Nice work," Pansy smiled, gesturing to the newspaper.

"With a bit of polyjuice, anything is possible, although I couldn't do it without you supplying the necessaries," Rita Skeeter returned her smile, "it was a pleasure, really. That Harry Potter has been a pain in my arse for far too long now. And he's so boring! Mr. Squeaky Clean Potter. Still, this might liven him up a bit," she rubbed her sharp taloned hands together gleefully.

"Yes, well," Pansy was keen to wrap this meeting up before the two of them were spotted together, or she had to explain that she'd had to rifle through the shrine of Harry's old clothes that cluttered up her house to find one of his hairs. And the less she said about her association with Ron Weasley, the better, "here's the usual payment," she handed Rita a thick brown envelope, "and should this all come crashing down, I'm sure it goes without saying that it would be better all round to keep our…association to yourself."

Without another word, she left the journalist rifling through the envelope and strode off in the direction of Hogwarts School.

oOoOoOo

Neville started at the tapping on the greenhouse door, jerking upwards and banging his head on the potting bench. He had just been bending down to retrieve a small plant pot for the violet he was potting up as a gift for Ginny when he had been startled.

"Damn," he muttered, rubbing his sore head and kicking at the spilled soil as he hurried to open the door. His eyes narrowed when he saw Pansy standing there, smiling ingratiatingly.

"What do you want?" he asked, more out of surprise than rudeness.

"Just a chat," she assured him as she breezed past into the greenhouse, "phew, it's humid in here isn't it, I'd forgotten," she fanned herself before removing her cloak to reveal a very tight, very short, red dress. Neville tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry with nerves.

"I'm er…I'm going to be late. I've got to go…to your house actually. To see Ginny," he felt like a rabbit in the lamplight as Pansy watched him trip over his words.

"That's what I'm here to talk to you about. Ginny," she suddenly looked sorrowful, eliciting a thrill of panic in Neville that there was something wrong, "I know you're very fond of her. I saw how close the two of you were when Harry was away, the way you always looked out for her at school," Neville's eyes widened. She knew. She knew! And she was here to warn him away from Ginny.

Praying to Godric that Ginny herself wasn't aware of the depths of his feelings, he folded his arms over his chest and jutted out his chin sullenly, "That's right, she's a very good friend to me," Neville made to walk back to where he had been working to indicate that the conversation was over.

Pansy, however, seemed to disagree, and hopped up to sit on the worn wooden potting bench in front of him. Neville tried not to look at her legs, "A good friend," Pansy repeated slowly, with a knowing wink, "I think that's just what Ginny needs right now. A good friend to keep her company while Harry's away. She's lonely Neville; I think that's where this potion idea has come from, as an excuse for a bit of company maybe?"

Neville felt the pounding in his chest slow slightly as it became clear that he wasn't in for a grilling from the frankly, scary Slytherin, although her proximity still made him more nervous than he'd care to admit.

"Ginny's a good friend to me too, and I want to see her happy. Harry ditching her again, it's left her very low. Something tells me that you'll be able to cheer her up though. I think you're lonely too," she trailed her fingers over his bare forearm, making the hairs stand up. He surveyed her suspiciously. He didn't trust Pansy as far as he could throw her, reformed character or not but, but perhaps he was being unfair. After all, looking out for her friend was quite admirable, and Ginny had been full of praise for her when she had written and asked him to visit.

Pansy looked around the greenhouse with apparent interest, trailing her hand over the small violet that he supposed he would now not have time to pot. Too late he realised that her hand had strayed onto one of the curling feelers of the overgrown Venomous Tentacula that, just like his predecessor, he never had the heart to prune. Quick as a flash it wrapped round her wrist, pulling her whole arm backwards above her shoulder.

"Try not to wriggle," he ordered, "It'll only pull you tighter. I'm just going to cut you free," he edged closer to her with a silver knife. Almost immediately he realised the problem – that to get to the tangled vine, he was going to have to get closer to Pansy than propriety would allow. She seemed to have the same idea and parted her legs, using her heel to pull him towards her. He could feel the heat between her legs pressed up against him and her breasts crushed to his chest as he leaned over her to cut her free.

She actually purred in his ear, nearly making him fumble and chop his own thumb off.

"I'm glad we've had this chat, Neville. Look at the time, you may as well come back to my Townhouse with me now – the floo is sometimes a bit temperamental. Don't worry, I'll only be dropping you off, I won't be sticking around, three's a crowd and all that."

As they entered the living room, she saw Ginny in floods of tears, holding the Prophet in her hand, "I'll leave you two to it," she murmured in Neville's ear and discreetly withdrew.

oOoOoOo

To his surprise, as weeks turned into months, Draco found he really enjoyed teaching. Sometimes he worried that he was a little too much like Snape, in that he let his annoyances show through, and he could be quite acid tongued to some of the students, but for the most part, he just let their trivialities wash over him. It was refreshing. And being back in the potions dungeon, even after having been away for only a year, felt like coming home. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed the fact that the professors who previously looked down their noses at him had to treat him like an equal.

He wasn't sure whether it was something Ginny had said to Hermione, or the fact his students' marks exceeded Snape's and Slughorn's, but even she seemed to have warmed to him. They often sat in the staff room, doing their marking together, drinking the expensive muggle coffee that she sneaked in, or went for walks to Hogsmeade on a Saturday. He even found himself reading her stupid muggle romance books, just so he could understand what she saw in them. He found that time had mellowed her need to provide answers to everything, although her almost evangelical need to return the school back to its original state irritated him.

"You're covered in soot," he had snapped at her one night, when she hadn't come into the staff room at the normal time. He had been peeved, then worried, but had refused to go and seek her out and was glad when she had turned up at his quarters after dinner.

"I've been in the Room of Requirement," she sighed, "I think it's broken but I had to try…" she trailed off, looking at him piteously. For a moment he couldn't work out why, then he remembered Crabbe, and him being gobbled up by the fiendfyre.

"You know," he observed coldly, summoning them both a healthy glassful of firewhisky, "Even if you fix it, he'll still be dead. If you repair that hole in the seventh floor corridor, Fred Weasley isn't going to come bounding up and thank you for it. And as for the Astronomy Tower that you spent so long rebuilding, well it hasn't brought Dumbledore back has it?" he smirked at her, wondering if she would cry.

"Why are you like this?" she waved her hand over to him, as though it was obvious that he should know what she was talking about.

"Bad upbringing," he grinned wickedly at her.

"Hmm," she nodded sceptically, as though she thought that was exactly the problem, and it wasn't one to be laughing about.

"Why are you like you are? Pushing Ron away when you two were just about perfect for one another? Shutting yourself away in this school on a fool's errand like an old spinster. People are worried about you, you know that don't you? I'm worried about you – where's the annoying know it all swot who beat me in every test and was going to be Minister for Magic? Where's the girl who came back after the war and passed every single NEWT with flying colours?"

"Maybe she died on your ballroom floor!" She stood up to shout this at him.

"Don't be overdramatic,"he snapped unsympathetically, "and don't deflect the question."

"Why not, that's what you did?"

"This is stupid," he sighed, staring moodily into his glass, "I haven't got the energy to keep going round and round with these childish arguments with you."

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, nodding to herself before opening them again with a smile, holding out her hand to him, "Then let's not argue. Come with me."

She led him out of the castle and past the lake, onto the Quidditch pitch. "Lie down," she instructed and they lay on the chilly grass, staring up at the inky sky. Draco bit back a complaint about the damp seeping into his robes as Hermione squeezed his hand, and with a wave of her wand, the sky was full of softly drifting snowflakes. Draco laughed in delight as one landed on his nose.

The snow fell thick and fast, settling heavily over the grass. Draco spread his hands wide, marvelling at the wonder of it. He thought he could watch it all night, illuminated in the torches that burned round the edge of the pitch, but his reverence was broken by the wet splat of a snowball hitting him on the side of the head.

"Oh, no you didn't!" He gasped, shaking his head and running after the Gryffindor, scooping up a handful of snow as he went.

A vicious snowball fight started up, neither of them thinking to reach for their wand as they pelted the other with snow. Eventually Draco advanced on Hermione, avoiding the onslaught of frozen missiles, only to shove a handful of powdery whiteness down into her robes, making her squeal. Begging breathlessly for mercy through her laughter, Hermione grabbed the cuffs of Draco's robes to stop him.

"You've got snowflakes on your eyelashes," he whispered. She moved to swipe them off but he stopped her, "You're so beautiful, Granger."

He inclined his head down to hers, swallowing deeply as her chill reddened lips parted slightly, but after a second that stretched as thin as gossamer, he seemed to lose his nerve and grabbed her round the waist, spinning her round, cheering and whooping up to the sky.

On the way back through the castle, shivering and dripping down deserted corridors, they found themselves outside the Room of Requirement.

"You have a go," she looked almost nervous, "You know it better than me. It's instinctive magic – like flying a broom and I'm no good at that."

Draco grabbed her by the shoulders, "Will you listen to me? You're the best witch I know, and that's more than just books and cleverness, you've got magic running through you. It's so strong I can almost taste it on the air when you're all cross about something or other. Let's do it together," he grabbed her hand and began to walk past the door, speaking aloud for her benefit.

"I think the Room of Hidden Things has been destroyed, but that's only one incarnation, perhaps we best try for something simple…maybe a comfortable room for two very cold and wet friends to pass the time," he smiled at her, "with a fire, and a change of clothes and a pair of cosy arm chairs."

They walked back and forth in front of the room, both concentrating hard as the door materialised.

"Open it," she whispered.

"Together, he put her hand on the door knob.

As soon as the door swung open, he knew it had worked. What he hadn't expected was his reaction – the way his heart raced to see the shadows from the cheery fire in the fireplace flickering across the ceiling. He backed up against the door, his hand scrabbling uselessly on the handle.

"It's ok, it's ok," Hermione's hand was on his shoulder and she was speaking softly, like she was gentling a nervous colt.

"That fucking idiot," Draco whispered, his voice breaking, "He could have killed us all. He was so stupid in so many ways. But he was my friend. He wasn't even allowed a funeral." He bowed his head, ashamed to meet her eye while his own were shining with unshed tears.

He felt her arms snake around him, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back and this time he held his nerve and pressed his lips against hers. She kissed him back, tenderly at first, but soon with mounting passion, her hands running through his hair, pulling him closer to her.

Suddenly he became aware of the fact that she was shivering in her damp clothes. Lifting her arms up above her head, he slipped the heavily wet wool from her shoulders, trembling from something more than cold, and led her to the plush rug in front of the fire. The flames made her skin look like burnished gold as she smiled up at him. He pulled off his own robes with shaking hands and laid down next to her, resuming their languid kissing and caressing. He ghosted his hands over the soft curves of her body, marvelling at the softness of her skin and was rewarded by her moaning into his mouth. Just that sexy little moan was almost enough to make him cum in his pants like a schoolboy. Wordlessly, she magicked away their underwear, giggling at his surprised face.

She spread her legs, guiding his body over her, their lips frenzied against each other's, and he eased inside her, her tight wetness making his head spin. He tried to keep his pace slow and romantic but their want was too great and they urged each other on like flames on kindling.

All too soon, he felt the irresistible tension building and he knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his hands in her hair and with a last shaky thrust, spilled his seed inside her. He was vaguely aware, outside the ecstasy of his orgasm, of the feeling of her coming undone in his arms.

He looked down at her, all glorious with her hair spread all around her like a halo and smiling at him like he was the greatest thing ever. It made him want to throw up and cry, all at the same time.

"I can't be here," he muttered, shrugging his robes back on. He ran from the room before he could even find out if she was going to call him back.

oOoOoOo

"I've done it," the happiness in his voice from the fire made Pansy recoil. He sounded like an idiot. Disappointment tolled a hollow bell inside her, that Draco had become one of those pussies she despised. She could practically smell the patheticness on him.

"Oh spare me the details," she rolled her eyes and examined her flawless manicure.

"It was incredible. She was incredible. It was like…she thought I was a good person, like she thought I was worth it."

Pansy mimed retching, "Oh, Draco!" she shrieked in frustration, "You've been with her five minutes and look what she's done to you! You're a joke! What are you going to do; the two of you going to live at Hogwarts forever, until you get as dusty and dried up as her? A has-been former death eater? People used to respect you. They feared you. Now you're going to throw all of that away! You think she would have fallen for some shambling professor if you didn't have the bad boy glamour to go with it?" And then she did the one thing that she knew he wouldn't be able to ignore – she laughed in his face.

"Don't be like that. It's only a contest."

"It was at first, but not now. It's something else. You're becoming like one of the drones we despise. Don't be weak, Draco."

Draco looked thoughtful; she had touched a nerve, "What do you suggest?"

"Being there with those goody goodies is addling your brain. Come back to me. Just leave a note of resignation and come over here. You know deep down you don't belong with them."

Within an hour, Draco turned up, his muggle sunglasses failing to hide the fact that his face was unattractively blotchy. Pansy rapidly screwed shut the vial of Powdered Dragon Claw that she wore on the chain around her neck and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

She patted the sofa next to her, "Tell me all about it."

Draco flung his belongings down and sank into the plush upholstery next to her, seeming happy just to let everything spill out, "It's like, she's exactly like you think – she's a pain in the arse. She's spending galleons and galleons of the war survivors fund repairing the school. She thinks she knows best about everything, even me and the worst thing is, she's probably right. But then, she does stuff like slipping out and smoking a cigarette with me when she's supposed to be watching second years in detention. Or causing a snowstorm on the Quidditch pitch to make me smile. And she's magnificent."

"But to clarify, you did fuck? Your cock and balls hadn't entirely retracted inside your body by that point?"

"We made love. In the Room of Requirement."

Pansy watched idly as a small beetle crawled over the window sill and opened up its jewel coloured wing cases before flying away.

"Well, I suppose you'll be wanting to claim your prize now?" she prowled towards him like a lynx.

"No thank you," he sighed regretfully.

"Don't be so dramatic,"

"I have a flair for drama," he removed his sunglasses, showing his red rimmed eyes. "I resigned. I sent Hermione a note too, telling her I'm too fucked up to be with her.

"Good boy," she petted him on the head, "now on to the bed, I want to fuck."

"Well I don't," he grit out, "my broom's over there, you win, take it," he gestured with a heavy arm.

She toed off her underwear and tried to straddle him, but he just pushed her unceremoniously onto the floor. She regained her footing with as much dignity as she could muster.

"There's plenty of time, I can wait for you to claim your prize. I feel like there's still enough fun to be had out of this for me to be too bored for a little while. This was what I was talking about, Draco, not being like them. When we cast a spell, empires fall. Books will be written about us. We're going to make our parents look like amateurs," she was speaking as though she was addressing a crowded room.

Draco said nothing, just poured them both a firewhisky.

"A toast," Pansy proclaimed, watching the way he moved as though he was physically in pain. Remorse really didn't suit him.

"To us," he said tonelessly.

She raised her glass but didn't drink, "To my triumph," she amended.

"Fine, to your triumph over the Weasel," Draco shrugged, taking a swig.

"What's so funny?" Draco demanded, as Pansy giggled into her firewhisky.

"As if I care about him. I'm talking about my triumph over you. I saw the way you looked at her the whole last year of school, the way you used to pine over her. It didn't take much of a nudge on my part and you fell in love with her, like some kind of silly puppy. And then because I laughed at you about it, made you feel like your love was stupid, made you feel ashamed of actually feeling something, you gave up on her. You broke her heart Draco – she's probably somewhere crying into her pillow right now over you. I'd be flattered that you think that much of me, but I know that it's just because you're so fucking weak that you can't stand anyone laughing at you. You've destroyed your only chance of real happiness. And that's just about the saddest thing I ever heard," she regarded him coolly over the top of her goblet for a beat, "cheers," she smirked, and tossed back the drink.

Draco had strode to the fire and dashed the floo powder down, growling 'Hogwarts," before she had even swallowed the burning liquid. His glass flew across the room, whistling past her head to smash and drip down the wall.

oOoOoOo

Hermione slammed the newspaper down onto the table, casting a lumos in the darkened room as she did so. When she saw Draco, his pale face, his puffy red eyes, his expression of eerie calm almost stopped her in her stride. He had a copy of the paper already, of course he did. Everyone did – everyone had seen the expose on her. Everyone knew about how she had left those children unsupervised. About her and Draco. About how she had shagged him in the Room of Requirement. There had been aspersions cast that she was remodelling the school into some kind of sex palace. And that was just the first six pages. The next four were concerned with Neville and Ginny's affair. The paper had styled it as 'A Scandal at Hogwarts' special edition.

"What the hell have you done?" she demanded.

"Hermione, there's nothing you can say or do to make me hate myself any more than I already do," he mumbled, "Shout at me, hit me, hex me if it will make you feel better. Just know that none of it will make me feel any worse."

"You aren't even going to apologise?"

"What for? Would it make any difference if I begged for your forgiveness? If I told you that you've been the only thing that has made my life worth living in…well, as long as I can remember? That I only sent you that note because I'm a scared idiot? That you're the most beautiful, intelligent, good person that I've ever met?"

"But why did you tell the Prophet all of that stuff?" Hermione's brown eyes were wide with hurt. Draco dug his nails into the palm of his hand.

"It was Pansy," he admitted, like it was walking through fiendfyre to admit it, "We had a….disagreement yesterday. Skeeter must have been buzzing around while we were talking. She's got her on her payroll."

"You told Pansy about us? Why?"

"Because that's what I do!" He shouted at her, "I fuck things up! Me, Pansy. We're not like you – we don't have some fucking mission to make the world a better place. I fuck women, I drink too much, gamble too much. That's what I am."

Hermione shook her head in denial, "I don't buy it. I know you, Draco Malfoy. You're still just that same scared boy who wouldn't identify us back at Malfoy Manor but there's goodness there. You can't –"

Pansy's head appeared in Draco's fire, green flames licking eerily over her skin, "Draco. Astronomy Tower. Now." She barked.

"Don't go," Hermione gripped his arm but he shook her off sadly.

"It's best not to ignore her," he sighed, making for the door. Hermione frowned at the fire then followed him.

Pansy didn't look surprised to see Hermione with him, and it made him wonder if that had been her intention all along.

"You bitch," Draco shouted, running towards Pansy with his wand drawn. She looked almost amused as she struck him down to the ground with a flick of her wand. He shook his head and clambered to his feet, preparing to charge at her again.

"Stop it!" Shouted Hermione, jumping between the two of them. Draco allowed her to put the palm of her hand on his chest and push him backwards. The sight of it made Pansy jealously irritated.

"Why did you even do it?" Hermione asked, and she looked more tired than angry, great bruise like shadows under her eyes bleeding down her face.

Pansy paused for a moment. People didn't normally ask why she meddled. They either got angry, which really didn't help them, as a rule - it made for knee jerk reactions and messy, sloppy decisions. Or they buckled so easily it was like they didn't realise what was happening to them and gave her what she wanted. Money, or information, or sex. Being asked to explain herself made all of her reasons feel petty and acidic on her tongue.

"To see if I could," she smirked, examining her nails. "To see how easily you'd give up on your principles and this ridiculous crusade to rebuild the school singlehandedly. To see if Saint Hermione could be corrupted. And look – you could," she smiled simply at the flush that travelled up Hermione's neck, the way she shook with rage.

"So because I made it my mission to make Hogwarts a safer place, you decided that my heart was open season for you to destroy?" Pansy saw Draco flinch at Hermione mentioning her heart, "And Ginny? What did she do? What about Ron – you know all of this is going to destroy him. Oh!" Hermione stopped dead, a wild laugh escaping her lips and whipping up into the sky, "We're just collateral damage aren't we? All of this – this sick twisted game – taking up with Ron, meddling with everyone's lives - was just to get Malfoy's attention wasn't it? Wasn't it!" she screamed, when Pansy stared impassively at her.

Sensing she wasn't going to get an explanation from the dark haired witch, she just shrugged and wrapped her hands around herself, shaking her head sadly at the pair as she started down the stone steps.

"Hermione, wait!" the words were out of Draco's mouth before he could stop himself. He just didn't want her to leave, but she ignored him.

Pansy snarled and lashed her wand like a whip. A white strand of light snagged Hermione round the ankle and dragged her back up into the tower.

"My darling brother was talking to you," Pansy growled, "We are not used to being ignored."

Then Hermione's wand was out too and they circled each other like a pair of alley cats, sizing each other up before curses started to fly between them. Their arms looked like blurs of light and fury as they struck and parried, jinxed and counter jinxed. Hermione, the stronger dueller of the pair began advancing on Pansy but disaster struck and she tripped on a loose stone. Pansy took advantage of her moment of distraction and shot her wand clean out of her hand, smiling as it rolled away harmlessly to a distant corner.

Pansy summoned up all of her hate and her spite and her petty ire and channelled it down into her wand, "Crucio!" she screamed, pointing at Hermione. Any thought of her reputation, or the consequences to her had been forgotten. Hermione's eyes widened as the curse flashed and crackled through the air towards her, but before it could hit, before it turned her into pain itself, Draco ran towards her and shoved her out of the way. The curse hit him instead, the force of it carrying him backwards, lifting him off his feet. He didn't even have time to scream or even register being hit, before his feet were scrabbling on the loose stones of the ruined edge of the tower and for a split second he hung like a broken marionette in mid-air before he sank like a stone.

Hermione didn't stop to blame her, or even to look at her. She just snatched up the broom that had been Pansy's for such a short time, and shot down after Draco. Pansy edged towards the crumbled battlements, feeling numb. For a moment, she didn't dare to look, as though not seeing it would stop it being real. As though she could just pull a curtain over it all and avoid all of the trouble that was coming, all of the questions that this would raise. But it was as though Draco was calling her, she could hear him, and she peered over the edge to the lush green grass below. His broken body lay at the bottom of the tower, limbs arranged unnaturally, Hermione huddled over him, and she realised that it wasn't Draco calling, it was her screaming.

oOoOoOo

Pansy checked her appearance one last time in the mirror, admiring the way that the slash of red lipstick set off her pale skin and raven hair. It was just what she needed to brighten up her intolerably modest mourning robes. She adjusted the birdcage veil of her small black hat and congratulated herself that she had only cried as much as seemed a decent amount, and only ever in public - red lips and red eyes clashed horribly. That wasn't to say that she was not going to miss Draco, or that she wasn't sad about his passing because honestly she was. He was the only one who really had ever got her, and now he was gone, things were going to be intolerably lonely. But at least she hadn't been like Hermione, honking and weeping as they took his body away.

Pansy squeezed her eyes shut to remove the image of Draco's crookedly limp corpse. Reaching inside her robes, she removed her trusty necklace and took a quick snort of Powdered Dragon Claw, before apparating to the funeral.

The first thing she noticed when the world righted itself again was how noisy it was. People chattering in scandalised tones, giggling even. Panic momentarily welled up inside her that she had apparated to the wrong place, but there was the Malfoy family chapel (a source of annoyance to her in itself that Narcissa had insisted he be buried there, rather than the Parkinson crypt), there were the oversized portraits of Draco at the entrance that she had ordered, there were the crowds of people dressed in black. Still it didn't seem right, panic turning to outrage at the gossiping, insufficiently sorrowful crowds. They were huddled in small groups, all holding copies of what looked like the Prophet, of all things. She stalked indignantly towards the entrance, barely noticing how a veil of shocked silence trailed behind her. At the doors, Ginny stood like an avenging angel, her hair blazing in the sunlight, a sheaf of newspapers in her arms, handing them out to newcomers. Neville stood by her side, smiling shyly down at her as he too, doled out copies of the Prophet. Suddenly, Ginny's eyes snapped to her and smirking curiously, she held out a paper to Pansy, which she snatched ungratefully.

PANSY PARKINSON'S CRUEL INTENTIONS

Pureblood heiress uses War Orphan charity as a front for blackmail and money laundering. Ministry investigates fraud as charity announces that only a fraction of the money raised reaches them.

Pansy implicated in the suspicious death of Draco Malfoy as sources reveal that she was present when he fell from the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower

Her dirty little secret: Photographic evidence of her addiction to Powdered Dragon's Claw.

Her stomach roiled hot and wet and heavy as her heart pounded noisy blood through her ears and adrenaline pumped to the tips of her fingers. She looked up slowly to see Narcissa glaring at her. If she had thought that Ginny had looked like an avenging angel earlie, she was wrong, her petty amusement eclipsed by this force of awesome terribleness bearing down upon her.

She threw the newspaper down onto the ground and stamped her stilettoed heel down on to it, her small hands balling into fists at her sides as her eyes darted and skittered over all of the faces turned to her.

"What is this shit?" she shrieked, "Where's Hermione Granger? She's done this! It's all a load of shit – I swear!" she took a small step backwards and stumbled slightly, her heel catching on the newspaper. Ugly blotches of colour spread up her neck and across her face. Still everyone stared at her, on every face an identical look of open mouthed horror. Then it started. Slowly at first but it soon gained momentum and spread like a Gemino curse. The laughter. The fingers pointed at her. The quick excited undercurrent of voices.

All of her hard work, her plans all gone to hell. Her reputation in ruins. Draco gone. Betrayed by that bitch Rita Skeeter. Pansy turned her face skywards and howled out a shriek of wordless fury.

oOoOoOo

A couple sat at the far side of the graveyard on a wooden bench, green with age, watching the commotion over their newspapers.

"Oh dear, she doesn't look very happy does she?" smirked Hermione, replacing the dark shades over her eyes.

"No. Well, she should have taken note of what you did to Umbridge back in fifth year. It was bound to end in tears."

"Hmm," Hermione hummed in agreement, "Still, I did tell her I was making the school a safer place. I mean, after Dumbledore fell out of the Astronomy Tower, why in Godric's name would I rebuild it without some kind of cushioning charm on the ground. Particularly since Professor Sinistra won't let me install a handrail. Something to do with the view or something."

"Not that safe!" Draco protested, rubbing his still bandaged arm.

Hermione sighed indulgently, rolling her eyes, "I suppose we'll have to tell them the truth eventually," Draco continued, "Shame. I've been enjoying this little break from real life. I think I could get used to living in disgustingly overpriced muggle hotel suites with you," he leant over and kissed her cheek.

"Welll," Hermione drew the word out as though she was considering something, "it's the school holidays and phase two of the building work is complete now. It's really just cosmetic from here. They could do without me for a while. And I've heard New York has some even more expensive hotel rooms we could go and trash," they both smiled for a minute, remembering the bed that they had broken at the Hilton.

"The show looks like it's over here," Draco observed, as two ministry officials dragged Pansy away, kicking and screaming, "What are we waiting for?"

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