Seven Preposterous Things

Millie tried. Millie honestly tried her very best to keep Draco at arm's length. It didn't seem to do much good. Every time she looked up during her sixth year it seemed he was there, staring at her - bloody annoying, if you asked her.

Then it got worse.

After Hallowe'en, he started making a point of cornering her alone and offering her chocolates between bouts of piteous whinging. She refused to extend the stupid cunt any sympathy; she did accept the chocolates, though.

Millie had a clear idea of the sort of future she wanted for herself, and arrogant pretty-boys weren't on the agenda. She was not interested in getting weighed down by a wizard who was little more than a trophy, and neither was she interested in getting involved with someone she was going to have to rescue at regular intervals.

The last thing on her mind was love. Or rather, to put it another way, not falling in love was at the forefront of her mind. The more Draco followed her and offered her sweets and careful compliments, the more Millie resolved she did not want to be like Parkinson and the other girls and "fall in love". Love was a losing proposition, especially with Draco.

If Millie ever chose to bind her fate to someone else's, it was going to be a mutually beneficial arrangement with a wizard she could trust to look after himself. A chap who couldn't quite cope on his own might be gratifying for witches like Parkinson, but if Millie ever had a baby, she wanted the kind who grew up eventually.

Draco was hopeless. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had arranged his whole life so that nothing would ever be difficult or unpleasant. Now that death, murder, and Azkaban were real possibilities, Draco spent half his time crying like a firsty in the fourth floor bog. The girl's bog at that. Not that Millie was keeping track. She wasn't developing a soft spot for the sniveling bugger, either.

The only reason she was helping him with the Dark Mark was that there was more to gain from helping Draco than there was from staying out of it. She knew she could find the answer; the only question was when. It worried her to think of Draco coming wand to wand with the headmaster in a duel. It worried her even more to consider what the Dark Lord would do to Draco if he didn't.

Caring whether or not Draco Malfoy lived or died got straight up her nose, in no small part because he had no one but himself to blame if he did die, stupid git.

A line had been blurred: his problems making themselves somehow her problems. That was not practical at all. He was like some great creeping fungus spreading under the wet grass of her mind, no sooner had she blasted one thought of him out of her attention than a dozen others popped up around her, chocolate boxes in hand; a nasty little fairy ring of concern.

Still he moved closer in, like a wolf in the forest. Millie was no bunny, though. Draco was one wolf who had a good chance of running away with his tail between his legs if she had any say in the matter.

One dull rainy Saturday, when quidditch practice had been cancelled, she and Greg and Vincent had climbed behind the curtains of Greg's bed and cast their silencing spells before setting to their time-honored method of fighting off boredom.

Millie was sweating and shaking in the throes of climax with Greg under her, and Vincent buggering her from above when someone pulled aside the bed-curtains. She wasn't completely surprised to see Draco standing there.

She was surprised that he stood there and held her eyes until Crabbe and Goyle both finished. Sod him, she wasn't going to be the one to look away.

It was strange though, to feel Vincent spraying his seed inside her and Greg following soon after, all the while looking into Draco's eyes.

The battle ended abruptly when Vincent lifted the silencing spell.

"Want somethin'?" Crabbe asked, grinning at Draco, but Draco ignored him, his attention never leaving Millie's face.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked.

Millie lifted her chin. "I wouldn't have done it otherwise."

"Crabbe, Goyle, get out of here. I need to talk to Bulstrode." He dismissed them with a wave of his hand. He folded his arms across his chest to emphasize his point.

Really, Millie thought to herself, Goyle and Crabbe were doing their best; if they'd vacated the premises any quicker they'd have left their clothes behind.

His arms still folded, Draco gave her a look that suggested perhaps she'd do well to dress herself, or at least wrap herself in one of Goyle's blankets.

Out of sheer bloody mindedness she decided to stay as she was. After a scowl and a raised eyebrow from Draco in response, she leaned back on the bed and stretched.

"Have you come up with anything?" he asked.

"I've figured how to do it, I think, but it's going to take time," she said.

"My time's almost up," he said.

"When?" she asked, her heart beating hard despite all her steely resolve not to care too deeply.

"Most likely tonight. What's your solution for the Mark?" he asked.

"There's a spell I've found to move the Mark, but it's got to have some place to go. We need a fully developed homunculus, one made from your essence so the mark won't know it's not you," she said.

"That'll take months," Draco said, looking desperate.

"I know. What're you going to do?" Millie asked.

"I'm going to kill the headmaster," Draco said solemnly.

"That's a nice sentiment." Millie snorted.

"I mean it," Draco whined.

"You can mean it all you like, it's not going to change the fact that you're a green novice going against the destroyer of Grendelwald," she said slowly, as if he was a bit thick and didn't understand this well enough on his own.

Draco leaned toward her. "I'm going to kill the headmaster. I'm going to do it because I haven't got a choice if I want to survive. I'm going to kill the headmaster, and then you're going to help me get rid of this Mark."

Millie didn't respond to that. She had no idea what to say. Laughing in his face wouldn't have been very nice under the circumstances. With nothing else to do, she searched his features for some hint of brutal purpose, but there was none. If he succeeded, it would be the result of sheer dumb luck. Her stomach clenched in sorrow, but she kept her expression flat. It wouldn't do any good to give in and feel sorry for him now. Tears were less than useless; they only made you slower, weaker. She forced her lip into a sneer.

"I've got something for you," Draco said, reaching into his robes.

Millie could have said something rude but chose not to, under the circumstances.

When he extended a tinkly charm bracelet to her, she wished she hadn't held back. She was incredulous. Millie was willing to do a certain number of things for Draco: wearing girly jewelry was not one of them.

"You give Parkinson another just like this?" she asked.

"Just you, Bulstrode, Pansy isn't... She's not like you and me," he said.

"Or more to the point, I'm not like you two." Millie snorted.

"After tonight, I likely won't be back at school," Draco said impatiently. "Open the locket."

Amid the baubles dangling from the bracelet, an ornate locket required some looking to find. Instead of a picture, inside was a tiny mirror. Millie understood its purpose instantly. Now Draco could whinge at her anywhere, anytime. Lovely. Still, somewhere in the back of her mind, she took some comfort she'd rather not admit to.

Draco opened his robe, revealing the locket's twin hanging from a chain around his pale throat.

"We'll be in contact even when I'm in hiding," he said earnestly.

Millie looked the bracelet over trying to straighten it all out in her mind.

Most likely none of it would matter because Draco would be dead in a few hours.

"We'll need to talk if you're going to get rid of the Mark. And after you've removed the Mark, I'm going to marry you," he lectured her. For some reason, he had taken on the exact tone Snape used in class. With that, he slipped the bracelet out of her hand and around her fat wrist.

"Wha?" she reacted in surprise.

"Now it won't come off until I take it off," he said, looking pleased with himself.

"I'll do my best to remove the Mark, but I've told you, Draco, we aren't getting married," she said, forgetting in her irritation that it hardly mattered what he said, since he was a few hours away from being dead, and therefore ineligible for marriage.

"We'll see about that," he said, his face showing more purpose than it had before. It was worrying to know he meant it.

"I suppose we will," Millie answered.


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Author's Note: Thanks to Shiv for Beta