Seventh Year Hogwarts student Draco Malfoy woke to a dimly lit, damp room and a buzzing sound in his ears. His head ached like he'd be trampled and face felt numbed and puffy on the left side. Pushing himself up, he noticed the the portion of his robes meeting the ground were wet with ... whatever lay stagnant on the cobble floor. Shaking it in disgust, he shoved a sleeve over his elbow and drug his hand across his face; stinging disagreement buzzed through his eye as his fingers made contact with the swelling flesh. Sticky, drying blood clung to them, he dimly noticed.

Rising to a sitting position, he took survey of his surroundings.

Through an eye and a half, Draco found old, wooden stalls similar to the upper floor bathrooms. Only these sagged and bowed with lack of care. Several of the doors had fallen from their hinges and lay on the soaked with the standing water. He shuddered to think of it's source.

Closer to his place on the floor stood a large series of sinks the middle of the room. One, he noticed dutifully, had blood along its edge. As if it had been used to inflict his his damage, he would have wagered. On the floor lay a small broken vial. There was, however, nothing on the dryer portion of the floor to indicate its previous contents.

He tried vainly to push himself from the floor several times, but his legs refused to support his weight. The result had been his hands slamming into the wet floor, elbows collapsing, and his face briefly colliding with the same cobble stones and undoubtedly fecal water.

“He's awake,” a quiet, familiar, and feminine voice echoed in the nigh empty room.

Standing in the deep shadows close to the closed entrance door, a tall male with dark hair stood casual against the wall. Torches further in the room shined a glare against round glasses, hiding them from his sight. His head lifted at the sound of the voice, glanced at the female pressed wantonly against his side, then towards the Malfoy heir. From his posture, facial structure, and his habit of rolling his wand in his fingers, Draco had the sinking suspicion he was once more in the presence of Harry Potter.

Pressed against him like a giddy school girl, stood a woman much more familiar to the arrogant Slytherin. Pansy Parkinson had her fingers wrapped round his arm like a dutiful wife, the opposite hand drifting up and down beneath who he presumed to be Potter's buttoned shirt. Her face looked utterly pleased, a maddened glint sparking in her eyes as her lips pressed into the side of his face, whispering softly to him.

“Parkinson,” Draco croaked weakly.

“Actually,” she cut him off, pulling her hand from beneath the white material. “It's Potter now,” she smiled beatifically, an expensive ring proudly displayed. “Goblin made, the finest quality.” Her blissful face turning to a vindictive, mocking smirk. “So much better than a pauper like you could have given me.”

“Pansy, luv,” Potter drawled with slow with a soft confidence. “You know you shouldn't mock the unfortunate. Lucius had to spend what little they had left to buy their freedom.”

“Hnn” the witch hummed a displeased note. “The lot of them should have been thrown away, regardless. Traitors, the lot of them.”

Draco could only managed a weak sneer, “Traitors? Thats rich, coming from the blood-traitor hanging on the arm of a half-blood disgrace.”

Draco's cool grey eyes noticed Potter remain calm, fingers gripping the now enraged woman's arm. “You dare insult me and my love? I...”

“Calm down, luv,” Potter chided patiently. “Malfoy is only baiting.”

Pansy looked angrily at the emerald eyed man, lips curled in a snarl, “But you heard him! He...”

But Harry silenced her with a finger against her lips. “He'll get his soon enough, darling. Just be patient, for me?” Harry looked down at her over the rim of his glasses.

Pansy folded her arms across her chest, nonplussed. “Just for a little while. If he ...”

“Yes, yes,” he answered before she could finished. “Soon, just be patient. Now,” Harry turned to the crouching heir. “Malfoy. I'm certain you've noticed that you're body isn't so responsive and are probably wondering why. That would have been the poison Pansy slipped you last night.”

Draco looked at the woman and she smiled maliciously down at him, eyes alight with a mad hunger. “... Why... why...” He couldn't finish speaking as a rush of nausea and dizziness gripped him.

“Because, dearest Draco,” Pansy answered. “If you're alive, my parents can nullify our,” she looked up delightedly at Potter before turning back to him. “Marriage. With you out of the way, that ignorant contract of theirs is just a worthless piece of paper.”

“They're going to find out by tomorrow, you know.” The newest Potter continued. “In the morning, the Prophet is going to have a three page spread of out wedding two weeks ago. You have to be gone before then.”

“Heheh...heh...” Draco laughed weakly.  “You stupid... bitch. You ... ignorant little whore.” Draco taunted in panting breaths. His body was getting heavy, and he couldn't see through the blurring haze that had taken his vision. “My parents ...canceled ...that... re... repugnant thing... two years ago. I... was going to ...marry Greengrass.”

“Daphne?” Pansy questioned with a sneer. “She'd slit her own throat before letting you near her.”

“No... Astoria...”

“Hnn.”

Harry pushed himself upright and stalked closer to the continually weakening pure-blood, Pansy following a step behind. “Don't worry, Malfoy. Considering I've got myself lined up for acceptance into the Aurors, I'll make sure your murder doesn't go unsolved.”

“Yes,” Pansy purred, kneeling in front of the blond and taking his face in both hands. “For an old friend of his dreadfully distraught wife, my Harry is willing to put aside past grudges to serve justice.” A beatifically smile lit her face once more. “And I will be quite the woman, you know. The wife of Harry Potter would be denied nothing.”

“Whoring... yourself to him... for a bit of social ...standing, Pansy? I hadn't tho... thought you'd sunk... so low.” Malfoy sneered quietly before spitting saliva and blood into the woman's face.

Pansy shrunk back in disgust, before rage consumed her features. She dug her nails into his face, a scream answering from the blond. With a snarl of distaste, she threw him backwards; Malfoy splashing lightly into stagnant water. “Wretched little bugger,” she spat as she stood. “Why won't you die faster? Can you do no...”

 

Pansy had begun to turn towards he beau as she spoke, but had been cut off by the sharp pain that had started burning in her abdomen. Her dark eyes trailed down to find the gloved hand of Harry Potter gripping a plain looking dagger. The dagger, as it were, was buried in her stomach. With a jerk of his wrist, the knife burst free, causing more pain through her body.

“Harry...” Pansy pleaded round the blood that began pooling in her mouth, hand grasping his white shirt. “Harry... why... why...”

Harry Potter glared down at the shorter woman in disgust. “Harden the fuck up, bitch.” He shoved her away carelessly, sending her toppling to the ground. “You played your part, you got played, so just suck it up and die quietly without all of this melodrama, would you?”

“But... bu... I loved you...” She whispered desperately, clutching her stomach.

He smiled spitefully down at her. “And everyone is going to think I loved you too, dear. But wouldn't you know it... Draco Malfoy just couldn't stand the thought of losing the love of his life to Harry Potter. So he kills her, and then...” he gestured at the broken bottle. “Kills himself.”

“But I .... I loved you... how.. how could you do this to me?” Tears mixed with the red life that ran down the woman's face as she lay herself on the ground pitifully.

Harry shrugged. “It was fun for a while, luv. And to be honest, you were pretty good in bed. But you were just the means to an end. Your family owned something I needed. With my wife tragically murdered, and no remaining Parkinsons to inherit their belongings, it is all deferred to me.”

Pansy's eyes grew wide in horror. “You.. didn't... Not my...”

“Your parents? Your younger brother?” Harry shook his head. “No. I didn't kill them. Someone else is taking care of that for me as we speak, however.” He glanced at his watch and then the door. “Which reminds me that I am late. Forgive me, darling, but Tracey hates to be kept waiting.”

With a swirl of his robes, Harry left the two Slytherins to their final minutes in silence. Honestly, Harry thought as he left. One would think Slytherins would be less gullible.