All Kinds of Directions

Pansy wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk to bloody Potter or his Merry Men, so when the Weasleyette sat down across from her at the kitchen table she ignored her. Weasley called a house-elf and requested some dinner; once the food was on the table Weasley glanced around to make sure they were alone and then murmured “Pansy—”

Pansy’s lip curled up. “You need to learn how to read people,” she sneered. “For example, this posture and the fact that I didn’t acknowledge your existence means I want to be left alone!”

“I’m well aware of that,” Weasley replied blandly. “I’m just ignoring it.”

“If Potter has another life-threatening chore for me—”

“Harry has his hands full at the moment,” Weasley interrupted. “His plans don’t all revolve around you—try not to be too offended.”

Pansy fought back a smirk. She enjoyed talking with Weasley—Mrs. Potter—more than anyone else in the mad little Army. At least the girl could keep up with her verbally. And she was a pureblood. “Then you’re just making small talk?” Pansy asked sarcastically.

“Hah. Small talk with you would be a complete waste,” Weasley retorted. “Harry delegated me to talk to you. Lucky me,” she added with a wrinkle of her nose.

Pansy couldn’t help but smirk that time. “Good to know I’m so appreciated,” she muttered. “All right, what does Potter want this time? A way to bring Bellatrix Lestrange back from the dead so he can question her?”

“We’re quite happy Bellatrix is dead, thanks,” Weasley said wryly. “And it’s not what Harry wants, it’s what Draco wants.”

Pansy’s stomach did a little flip. She tried to school her expression, but feared she hadn’t pulled it off. “Oh yeah? What did that prat have to say?”

“He set off the trigger indicating he wanted something, so I went in to talk to him,” Weasley said. “He asked to speak with you again.”

Pansy say back and crossed her arms; she ignored the little tap-dance her heart started upon hearing that Draco wanted to talk to her again. “And I suppose he told you everything that happened when I was in there?” she said defensively.

“He assumed I knew already, but it was pretty clear from the context,” Weasley admitted. “Not to mention your behavior’s made it pretty obvious he didn’t—er, didn’t respond to seeing you the way you’d hoped he would.”

Pansy felt her eyes prickling, and dug her fingernails into her palm; she would not cry again, and definitely not in front of the Weasleyette! “Had a good laugh about that, did you?” she growled. “I bet Potter and your brother thought it was ruddy hilarious!”

Weasley gave Pansy an odd look. “Harry and Ron don’t know,” she said carefully. “No one else does.”

That made Pansy’s rising anger pull up short. “You didn’t tell them?”

“Of course not,” Weasley said. “I only said that Draco had asked to talk to you again; Harry just said to tell you, get your wand and open the door for you.”

Pansy opened and closed her mouth a few times before responding. “Why didn’t you tell him?” was all she could think to ask.

“Because it’s none of his business,” Weasley said as though it were obvious. “It’s personal, and we don’t go sharing stuff like that around, no matter what you might think. We didn’t spread around about what Lee did to Luna, or what you did to Lee, did we?” Pansy shook her head mutely. “Don’t get me wrong, Pansy—if I thought Harry needed to know for the sake of the war, I’d tell him,” Weasley admitted. “But he doesn’t, not this; so no one will ever hear it from me, or about Neville, for that matter.” She smiled wanly. “I know you’re not used to being in the midst of so many Gryffindors, but believe it or not we do know when and how to keep secrets.”

“Could have fooled me,” Pansy replied, although her heart wasn’t in it. She was thinking about Draco again; what could he want? He wasn’t one to change his mind quickly, so it was unlikely that he wanted to apologize. But on the other hand, people tended to react to situations as stressful as Draco’s instead of thinking things through; now that he’d had some time… “Let’s go,” Pansy said abruptly, standing. “Let me in to see Draco.”

“I’m still eating,” Weasley said calmly, and chuckled when Pansy snarled. “Maybe I can get a snack later.”

“You do that.”

Pansy followed Weasley up to the fourth floor. Outside the door to the room Draco was in, Weasley silently held out her hand, and Pansy relinquished her wand. “You know how this works,” Weasley said. “I’ll be in Ron and Hermione’s room for a while if you get through and want your wand back; if not you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Pansy nodded absently, but hearing Weasley say she’d be a floor down made her think of something; “Aren’t you going to insist on ‘standing guard’ here so you can listen in on our conversation?” she sneered.

Ginny frowned. “We did consider that,” she admitted. “And any time we go in there to question Draco, we will be. But after arguing it out we decided that it was too personal, and not fair to you.” She grinned at Pansy’s snort. “But if Draco says something that you think is important for us to know, you’ll tell us of course… maybe even let us remove your memory and view it. Wouldn’t you?”

Pansy shuddered. The idea of giving up a memory was repulsive, but still… what if Draco was arrogant enough to let something truly crucial slip? Could she let that go unacknowledged? “Well, maybe,” she said reluctantly. “But only maybe.”

“You would,” Weasley said with certainty. “You want us to win the war, so you would. Pansy, when Harry told everyone that you’d done more for our side in this war than all of them combined, he wasn’t exaggerating—I know you don’t know how, exactly, and we can’t tell you, but it’s the truth. And no matter what Malfoy or even what you think, you haven’t been helping us just because you wanted to see this great prat again,” she insisted with pointed irony, jerking a thumb at the door. “You’ve been helping because you know that Voldemort’s side is the wrong one, and you want our side to win.”

Before Pansy could respond, Weasley drew her wand and released the protective charms on the door enough to allow Pansy entry. “I know it’s hard for you to admit to having anything inside that couldn’t be considered totally Slytherin,” Weasley said quietly. “But I know better, and so do you. Regardless of what Draco Malfoy thinks of you, you’re not a silly, overly-emotional Gryffindor… you’re just human. I think that the reason it seems like a lot of Slytherins go bad is that you’re all taught from a young age not to feel—and it’s far easier to do terrible things if you ignore how much it hurts people, including yourself.” She smiled, a genuine, honest smile. “You accepted your feelings for Draco… That makes it pretty tough to ignore your other feelings, doesn’t it?”

Pansy found that she couldn’t meet Weasley’s eyes. “It’s disgusting,” she whispered. “I don’t know how you stand it.”

“Lots of practice,” Weasley said with a wholly inappropriate chuckle. “And it’s not disgusting, Pansy, just scary. It’s frightening to open yourself up to that kind of hurt. Sometimes I wish…”

Weasley didn’t finish her thought, just stared broodingly at nothing for a moment. “What? You wish you hadn’t fallen for Potter?” Pansy retorted nastily.

“Yeah,” was Weasley’s shocking answer. “Sometimes. It would sure be easier, and a hell of a lot less painful. Do you know what it’s like to have fallen for someone whose life is not only constantly in danger, but won’t ever be his own? You don’t have to answer that. And yeah, there are times when I’ve wished I could go back in time and stop myself from falling for Harry…somehow,” she added wryly, “even though I can’t imagine how. But even if I could do that, I wouldn’t.”

“So you just suck up and deal?” Pansy asked; she found that she truly didn’t understand the concept. For her, pain was to be avoided or minimized at all costs.

“Of course,” Weasley said. “It’s worth it; the good outweighs the bad, by a lot. It’s a hell of a lot better than pretending the feelings aren’t there.”

“How do you know if you haven’t tried it?” Pansy commented snidely.

“Well, it hasn’t worked so well for you, has it?” Weasley shot back. But she relented almost immediately. “Sorry… That was cruel. I have tried it, if you must know. All through my fourth year, when Harry was obsessed with that traumatized hosepipe Cho Chang, and last year when he just seemed self-obsessed and broody, I pretended I didn’t love him any longer. I dated other boys, I acted like Harry was a brother to me. But when I let myself admit it, I’d rather have been pining for him, crying myself to sleep every night, than smiling at him falsely and feeling it all inside anyway.” She swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, and only then did Pansy see she’d let a few tears slip free. “When Harry kissed me the first time—in front of all of Gryffindor, no less—I knew already that it meant a kind of hurt I couldn’t even comprehend… not yet. But I kissed him back anyway, because I’d already experienced the alternative, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. Knowing he wanted me like I wanted him…it would have broken me to even try.”

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. “You’re right,” Pansy finally admitted, in a faint voice. “It didn’t work for me. If I’d continued denying my…feelings,” she said, the word feeling unpleasant on her tongue, “I’d probably have the Dark Mark by now, and be following at the heels of Auntie Bella instead of having the chance to dance on the bitch’s grave.” She grimaced. “But I’ve made a fair mess of everything else since Dumbledore died.”

“No, you haven’t,” Weasley answered. “It probably seems like it because you haven’t done what was best for you in the short-term. Think to the future, Pansy; you’re on the right side. You’ve got people who will stand for you when the war ends, and I doubt you could have said that on Voldemort’s side.” She grinned when Pansy snorted. “And more importantly, you’ve put yourself in a position where you can make choices about your life for yourself, instead of letting others choose your life for you.”

Pansy shivered, not feeling as pleased about it as Weasley seemed to think she should. “That’s not exactly comforting,” she complained.

“Of course not. It’s bloody terrifying,” Weasley said, which didn’t help. “Being yourself always is.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You sound like Lovegood.”

Weasley laughed. “Yeah, well, Luna knows how to be herself better than anyone. She figured all this out a lot sooner than any of us did.”

“So I should use her as a model then?”

“Why not?” Weasley retorted with a smirk. “Who else are you going to use—Malfoy?” She sighed at Pansy’s expression. “Pansy, Draco shouldn’t be the be-all and end-all of your life.”

“Like Potter isn’t yours?” Pansy snapped angrily. “Mrs. Potter?”

“I haven’t changed my name yet,,” Weasley reminded her calmly. “I’ve spent years going over and over this—the bad outweighs the good, remember? So when you go in there, ask yourself if the good of pursuing Draco outweighs the bad. Not for him—just for you. If it does, I for one will never tell you that you chose wrong. Just be prepared for the hurt you know it will bring you.”

*****

Pansy was deep in thought when she stepped into the room, so she didn’t hear the first thing that Draco said. “What?” she asked distractedly, finally looking up to see him standing respectfully several feet away.

“I said, I’m glad you came,” Draco repeated, looking mildly irritated.

“Oh… Well of course I came,” Pansy answered. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I did say some…fairly cruel things last time,” Draco admitted, staring ashamedly at the floor. “Er…I’m really sorry, Pansy. I didn’t mean any of that about your being like a Gryffindor. Or about…” He flushed. “I know you’d never shag Potter—it doesn’t make me sick up to think of touching you. I was pretty scared about being trapped here, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m…well, kind of flattered, I guess, that you did all this for me.”

I guess? Pansy noted the comment, but put it aside. “I really just wanted to keep you out of danger,” she murmured. “Potter and his group are prepared to protect us both, and that’s all I care about.”

Draco had a strange look on his face. He stepped over and took Pansy’s hands, and led her over to the bed. Pansy’s heart pounded, but Draco just sat them down—he made no move to instigate sex. That was…surprising. “I don’t trust Potter, Pansy. I can’t. He’s been a thorn in my side ever since I started at Hogwarts.”

A thorn in my side? Pansy’s level of suspicion rose. Draco never used phrases like that; what he was saying sounded a bit rehearsed. Has the Weasleyette got me completely paranoid? “I understand,” she said. “Potter doesn’t trust you either—obviously. He does trust me, though, and we made an arrangement. I’ve been helping out his little group, and in exchange he extracted you from the Dark Lord’s grasp. And he pulled it off, too—I can hardly believe it!”

“Yeah… It’s amazing,” Draco said, but he didn’t sound enthused. “I can’t say I like the thought of Mother in the clutches of… whoever has her.”

He said the last line as though it were a question… as if he was fishing for Pansy to spill information to him. He’s trying to play me? She thought. It can’t be… he wouldn’t do that, not to me! I must be misreading him! Ignoring the unasked question, Pansy decided to try a bit of her own manipulation, to see if her suspicions were correct. “Your mother’s fine,” she said dismissively. “Potter and his—well, they’re like his generals—are surprisingly good at planning.”

She offered the hint about generals like a piece of bait, and to her utter shock, Draco grabbed at it. “That’d be Weasley, and the Weasleyette and the Mudblood Granger, I suppose,” he sneered. “Or is it someone else? Who else is in Potter’s army, anyway? I only got a few names when they snatched me—”

“I don’t believe it!” Pansy gasped. “You’re terrible at this!”

Draco frowned. “At what?”

“Manipulation! Merlin, is that really the best you can do?” Pansy asked rhetorically. “I thought you were the epitome of a Slytherin, but you’re horrible at it!”

“Now wait a minute,” Draco said sharply. “I’m not trying to manipulate you, Pansy—”

“Of course you are!” Pansy shot back furiously, leaping to her feet. “I offered you the hint about Potter’s generals and you took it like a fish on a hook! You don’t give a damn about me or whether what you said before hurt me—you only apologized to try and get me to help you break out of here!”

“That’s not true!” Draco snapped, also standing. “I’m thinking of both of us, Pansy! When we get out of here the information you have about Potter’s setup will be invaluable to the Dark Lord! You could win the war for us!”

“For you,” Pansy shot back furiously. “I am not on that side any more! If you can’t see what V—” She hesitated, and then spat out “Voldemort!” Draco gasped. “If you’re too thick to see Voldemort for the megalomaniacal psychopath he is, then I’m sick that I ever had anything to do with you!”

Draco grabbed Pansy by the shoulders. “He’ll kill us when he finds us!” he shouted in her face, shaking her roughly. “You don’t understand how powerful the Dark Lord is—his people are everywhere, even in the Ministry, even in the Muggle government! He’ll find us, and when he does…” He swallowed, his eyes wide with fear. “But if we go to him, support him, get out of here and tell him what we know, he’ll make us his most trusted followers! It’s better than being on the side of these traitors and Mudbloods! When they lose, the Dark Lord will—”

Pansy’s knee came up and slammed into Draco’s groin with a satisfying crunch. Draco’s eyes crossed, and he fell to the floor, clutching at himself and whimpering. Pansy stared down at Draco as he writhed. “Voldemort’s most trusted followers?” she repeated quietly. “Like your father was? Or your Aunt Bella? I like fighting for someone who actually cares whether I live or die, Draco. I like knowing that there’s someone nearby who’ll watch my back without sticking a knife in it. I like being on a side where the people you fight with stick up for you even if they don’t like you! You and your side haven’t got anything left to offer me except submission—and I refuse to spend what may be the last weeks or months of my life crawling like a worm! I’d rather think for myself and live with my choices than have that madman choose for me!” Pansy stormed over to the door and opened it. “Don’t bother calling to speak to me again, Draco,” she said, not without a hint of sadness. “You don’t have anything left to say that I need to hear.” And with that Pansy stepped outside and shut the door quietly behind her.

Pansy stood perfectly still outside the door for a long moment. Her mind was racing, replaying everything that had just happened—the conversation with Weasley, the argument with Draco—and she realized that the damage to Draco’s privates had been more than a violent act of aggression; it had been a symbol, an exclamation point at the end of a sentence of declaration.

Pansy took off running; she took the stairs two at a time and then ran down the hall, and didn’t stop until she reached a door, which she pounded heavily on until it opened. “Problem?” the Weasleyette asked wryly, quirking an eyebrow. Inside, Pansy could see Potter, Weasley and Granger staring out at her in surprise.

“Not a problem,” she said shortly, pushing her way into the room and waiting impatiently until the door had been shut. “Now, while it’s still fresh in my mind, you have to extract my memory, so you can hear every word that Draco Malfoy just said.”