Broken Scales

Draco sat in the car, impossibly still, the chatter around him being carried on by Blaize and Millicent while Draco stared pointedly out the window. Pansy mewing softly into Draco’s ear, her attempts of getting his attention were getting more invasive and impatient.

He wondered vaguely if she would reach inside his pants soon. He shuttered at the thought, twisting to look at her with lighting in his silver eyes. “Yes? Pansy what is it?” he asked, giving her his best attempt at an innocent tone.

He must have failed because she flinched away from him, crossing her arms and legs so tight Draco amused himself with the thought she wouldn’t be able to untangle herself.

He arched his eyebrow at her, pouring on a sickly sweet tone. Pan, what is wrong?” He paused and repressed a horrified shudder, “darling.” The sound of that last word always seemed to stick in the back of his throat.

Pansy gushed at the last word, crawling back into Draco’s lap, jamming her tongue down his throat. Draco fell into his happy place. He was kissing a beautiful brunette, petite, faceless, his own personal valkyrie.

The faceless woman had been Draco’s savior for years now. Using her he blocked out the image of the pugfaced girl on his lap, imagining the brunette that always fit so much better in his arms.

Draco knew this was wrong but it was the only way he could get through the kissing of Pansy, this sad and lanky excuse of a woman he was required to love, or at least fake loving. He felt bad because Pansy really did love him.

He rethought this. No Pansy has been conditioned to love him, she just took better to brainwashing. Keep the pureblood line running, have more pure blood children, watch the gene pool shrink.

It was a sick game the bastard was playing. Draco’s thought flicked back to this summer, his parents fighting, his mother crying another glass of fire whiskey in the bastards hand. Then cam the blinding pain. The Cruciatus Curse was a bitch.

The pain of the memory brought him back to reality. Pan, he chuckled again at his clever name for Pansy. He once told his mother he called her Pan because she was thick as steel and twice as ugly. Pan was curled against his chest pretending to doze, but still watching him out of the corner of her eye.

He pretended not to notice she was awake and kissed the top of her head half heartedly. She never asked for more than half heartedly from him. That was all she ever expected, keeping up appearances and more money than she could spend when they married.

She sighed content as Draco’s mood dragged him down deeper into his seat, closing his eyes.

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Hermione sat in the train car thinking to herself as the boys played a game of wizarding chess. Neville was poking a strange looking bit of slime in a box, humming to himself.

Just then Ginny poked her head through the door. “Hermione? Um… do You have a second?”

Hermione jumped to her feet, “Of course I do Ginny.” she said as she slipped out the door.

Ginny pulled Hermione into an empty car and locked the door. She turned around with a wide grin. “Spill!” she shouted. “I want every detail.” Ginny gushed while Hermione looked confused. “Arg, I saw the whole thing Mie, You were laying on top of Him! You felt his body!” She made an animalistic noise.

Hermione sat down head in her hands; she moaned. “Yeah I know, but I hate it when we talk about this. Malfoy is EVIL…”

Ginny sat down on the floor looking up at Hermione, “Listen to me Mie. I know Malfoy is a disgusting bit of filth, but it just so happens he is the best looking boy at Hogwarts. I mean look at Charlie. He still marvels at the dragon’s beauty even though they want nothing better than to kill him in the middle of the night.” Ginny beamed at her clever analogy, waiting for her friend to continue.

Hermione blushed deeply, reliving her horribly awkward and literal run in with the boy who has been the center of so many nightmares in her past.

Hermione groaned and peeked at Ginny through slightly parted fingers. “Do we have to talk about this?” she whined, running through the horrible encounter with Malfoy. “There really isn’t anything to tell Gin. I ran into him, we fell. I didn’t even know it was him.” Thank god she thought as an after thought. “He probably would have cursed me into next week if he had known Ginny.”

Ginny groaned. This was obviously not what she wanted to hear. Hermione knew what she wanted to hear. She wanted to hear what his body was like, the contours of his body. Hermione shook her head, “Ginny, I wasn’t feeling him up. I tripped over him because he was too busy molesting that cow Parkinson to pay attention to where he was going.” The venom in her voice was so thick it was in danger of dripping off her teeth. “Then she called me a mudblood and acted like it was all my fault.”

Hermione scrunched her face up in disgust remembering the ugly, bowlegged Slythern girl and her crass and shrill voice. Suddenly her head snapped up staring wild eyed at Ginny. “Oh Merlin! Ginny when Ron and I went to the prefect’s car to get our instructions for the year I,” she paused wondering how much information to give Ginny, “got into a dual with Malfoy. We have detention together for a month! What am I going to do?” Hermione sighed and looked up at Ginny who was itching to launch into a story of her latest conquest in love.

Hermione prompted her to talk with minimal effort, then settled into her seat to listen, avoiding any thoughts involving the impending time spent with Prince Malfoy.


After what seemed like hours the Hogwarts’ Express pulled into Hogsmead. The students were filing out of the train, pushing and shoving each other. While the small and frightened looking first years cower in the recesses of the train holding the various pets tight to their chests, Draco found endless entertainment in their frightened faces.

Chuckling to himself at how different he was always expected to act. During his first year at Hogwarts he walked as if he owned the school already, a twisted sense of pride for the sick ordeal that he was raised to believe it meant to be a Malfoy. He chuckled again darkly at an image of his father pouring himself another glass of fire whisky, picking the dried blood off his ivory knuckles. Yes, such a wonderful legacy I have inherited.

Then he saw her ridiculously bushy hair as she bobbed in and out of the crowd. He speed up, weaving in and out of the crowd, in pursuit of the frumpy girl while thumbing her badge in his pocket. He finally reached her, thanking his lucky star she was not flanked by the Weasel or the Pothead.

This will be a cinch. He plowed into her right side, shoving her so hard she almost fell on her face while slipping his hand into her pocket to drop her badge. There, maybe she hadn’t realized it was missing. “Granger, always in the way! Make yourself useful for once,” he sneered with pure malice in his silver eyes, “Find a cute little high school, and go there.” a bark of laughter for emphasis and didn’t look back as he rushed past. Maybe he would be able to find a coach full enough to escape Pansy for the ride to the castle.