Chapter Twenty

This chapter was written by keppiehed.

There were curves and white skin flashing at him. Draco couldn't make out any more than that, but it was enough. He didn't care who he fucked, he just wanted to bury himself in someone. A wrist was in his hand and he raised it, slamming it against a wall. Somehow, that made it more exciting. The control. He was hard and ready. He didn't know who he was with, or when this had started. He dipped his head and tasted the breasts, nibbled the neck. Someone was writhing, a face kept turned from him. No matter. He didn't need to see a face to find his satisfaction. Draco pounded into the silken entrance that was waiting, the wet heat too much for him. Between his own bucking movement and the twisting of the person he was with, he could feel his completion approaching.

Who was she?

A sense of unease descended. He hadn't cared, but now he wanted to know. Draco checked for her eyes, but it was too dark. All he could see was black hair. Pansy?

Draco grabbed the jaw and wrenched it towards him. Green eyes, a beacon cutting through the gloom. Potter!

The shock wasn't enough to stave off the pleasure. Draco watched Potter's face dissolve into bliss, and the knowledge that he had brought his enemy to climax pushed Draco over the edge into his own.

He woke from the dream still panting and covered in his own come.

A misery blanketed him that was so vast and heavy he thought he might be sick. If he hadn't already been in bed, he would have fallen to his knees. For the first time ever in his life, he didn't know what to do. This was ... too much. Normally when something overwhelming happened that he couldn't handle, he simply didn't deal with it. The pretence of dignity had always been amazingly effective in the past. However, this situation was too big to be ignored. He had fucked Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake! Tears welled up in his eyes, which made his stomach roil. And now he was crying about it! Was he a pouf? How could he not have known it? This was the worst thing to have ever happened. How could he tell his father? It couldn't be true. He just couldn't live this way. Besides, it didn't seem fair that if he was gay, other men got to enjoy him, but he had to live with lesser fare. He was doomed to a life of inferiority!

Wait! Draco sat up. It wasn't true...of course it wasn't. He was merely on edge and confused. The dream proved it. He had been thinking about sex with a woman, it was just Potter's face that got muddled around there at the end. And he hadn't actually fucked Potter, he had just sort of ... leaned up against him when he was standing there. And that was understandable, because Draco was severely in need of sex. In fact, he had been saying that for a long time now. Everyone knew that a build-up of sex hormones made a person crazy. Hell, he might have had sex with anything last night, he was so hard up for it by now! Draco nodded, pleased with his logic. So, he was absolutely not gay. Right. Relieved, he took a big breath. Now he just had to prove it.

Draco frowned. That last thought made his stomach drop a little. Why had his mind run ahead of itself? Well, no matter. He wasn't gay, so he should have no problem having sex with a girl. None at all. In fact, he couldn't wait. That sounded like so much fun. Too bad he didn't know any girls. It would just have to wait.

He knew Pansy.

Damn it! Draco wanted to smack himself.

He had a point, though. Pansy was a girl. He could do this. He would do this. "Peachy!"

The house-elf Apparated almost before he finished calling her name. "Master Draco?" She was good enough to keep her face blank. Or maybe house-elves just didn't have the facial muscles to facilitate looking suspicious.

"Owl Miss Parkinson and see if she is free tonight."

Peachy frowned. Apparently they were capable of conveying disapproval, at any rate. "Miss Pansy be a good girl, but Master Draco should..."

"Peachy!" Draco glared. If he was losing his authority even over simple house-elves that were on loan, it was all over. "Must I remind you of your place? It is not for you to decide what I should do. It is for you to carry out my wishes. Owl Miss Parkinson and ask her to ready herself to receive me at eight o'clock this evening, sooner should time permit."

Peachy nodded, her eyes wide. "Yes, Master Draco." She stared at him with her unblinking eyes until he dropped his gaze. He didn't have to answer to anyone, least of all a servant.

"You are dismissed."

She didn't make a sound when she Disapparated, but he could feel the weight of his own presence in the room when she was gone.

*

"How was dinner?" Pansy asked. "It was going to be the Chateaubriand, but I know how partial you are to salmon, so when I heard you were coming, I had them change the menu. We import ours from Scotland. Only the best, you know."

Draco nodded and contemplated his wine. The cut crystal caught the flickers from the candles, the only light the room provided. "Only the best," he echoed.

"What's the matter, Draco? Was it the fish? Was it overdone? I am going to flay Dinky alive..." Pansy was fairly seething at the thought of unpalatable salmon.

"No! Put it from your mind. It was superb." Draco forced a smile and suppressed a sigh. How did he keep finding himself in the same situation? Pansy was supposed to be his friend. Why was an evening spent with her so torturous? He could hardly bear to contemplate the reason for his visit. If he couldn't even stand the fish course, how could he sleep with her? Draco took a swig of the Pinot Noir and cracked his neck. This had to be done...there was no other way.

The truth was, everything was grating on his nerves. The endless pleasantries, the talk about which wine went with the cheese. He knew that this was what they did, what they had always done, but for some reason he was ... bored. Did it matter? Did any of this really matter? Draco looked around the room and saw the same furnishings that decorated his home, but it all seemed so meaningless. He could have just had a burger and spared them all the trouble. It would have tasted just as good, and then they could have done something other than debate the merits of asparagus as a side dish or an appetizer, or whether the Minister of Culture was a fan of the double-breasted robe or the single.

"Draco, you seem upset about something." Pansy stood up and came around the table. "Tell me what's wrong."

Draco gritted his teeth. There was nothing that he wanted to do less than talk to Pansy about anything. Why had he come? This seemed more like a bad idea by the minute. But the bottom line was if he didn't sleep with Pansy tonight, then ... he couldn't bear to think of the alternative. He had to do it. Draco slammed back the last of the wine.

When he felt hands on his shoulders, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Pansy had come up behind him and was attempting to give him a backrub. "You're so tense," she murmured. "No wonder you're upset. Let me take care of you."

Her words made him stiffen even more. Her hands were all wrong. He wanted to shake them off. They were too soft, too small. She was pinching rather than massaging. Everything about her irritated him. He'd had much better backrubs ... Draco closed his eyes and remembered Potter's hands on him. Potter had known just how to touch, just where to...

Draco's eyes flew open. He couldn't let this happen! "Potter is the biggest arse!"

"What?" Pansy's hands stilled.

"I can't stand him! He's so annoying," Draco breathed, desperate to grab onto something that would give rise to his antipathy towards Potter rather than his ... rather than any other feelings.

Pansy didn't move. "I know. But you're here now. Let's just forget about him." She started rubbing again.

Draco couldn't stand it. Her fingers were attempting to caress him, but his skin was crawling. He blurted out the first thing he could think of to get her attention and divert her hands away from him. "He's the biggest liar!"

"Why are we always talking about Potter?" Pansy asked. She dropped her hands and came around to stand in front of him. "I know he's an arse, and so do you. But a liar? What did he lie about?"

Draco ignored the guilt that was worming its way into his gut. "He cheated in our duel. I'm sorry, Pansy. I wanted to make tonight about us. I'm just really upset about this whole situation."

"Us?" A smile softened her face. "Of course you're upset. Tell me exactly what he did."

Warning bells were sounding in Draco's brain, but he forged ahead. "Well, Potter knew I wasn't ready to duel yet. I'm close, but he's been doing wandless magic for years. He's the fucking Chosen One, of course he has a natural advantage."

"Of course," Pansy cooed. She reached out and took his hand.

Draco worked to cover his flinch. What had he been saying? "Er, yeah. So, he manipulated me into duelling and then basically tricked me and told me I had won. My wand still doesn't work." Draco tried to work his hand away, but she had it in a death grip.

"What?" Pansy was outraged on his behalf. "That sneaky bastard! Why would he do that?" She began tracing circles over the back of his hand with her palm, in what he could only assume she thought was a soothing gesture. "We'll get him back for that deception, and it will be a payback so big he'll wish he hadn't tangled with us."

Draco felt beads of sweat pop out on his brow. He was distracted by her clutch on his hand, which was one of the most unpleasant sensations he had experienced. He had to concentrate on breathing and appearing relaxed because he sensed a panic attack was ready to burst forth any moment. Somewhere in the back of his brain, an alarm was going off, like a bird fluttering in a trapped room. It was hard to concentrate on anything with Pansy hanging all over him. He just wanted her to let go! "Potter isn't too bad," he managed, but that was all he could spit out. There were too many conflicting thoughts converging, and he was about to lose hold of some portion of his sanity.

"Not too bad!" There was an edge to Pansy's laughter; but then, there always had been. Draco was glad it wasn't directed at him. She would make a worthy adversary. "You are so kind, Draco. You give too much credit to everyone. Potter deserves to get crushed. And he will be." She narrowed her eyes. "But enough about him. You said this night was about us." Pansy slid forward and seated herself on his lap, facing him. She tucked his limp arms around her and leaned in until their breath mingled. "Forget Potter. It's me who's here with you now in your arms. And it's me who has waited so long for this. Kiss me, Draco."

Draco could hear the desperation and the longing in her voice. He was glad that he had the excuse to slam his eyelids shut so he didn't have to look her in the eye as he dreamed about green eyes instead of blue. He hoped that she blamed his lack of finesse on excitement instead of the exact opposite.

Revulsion and regret were entwined as he sat in the Parkinsons' dining room. He shouldn't have to think to tell his arms what to do, nor his lips. He shouldn't be panicked about how wooden he seemed, but he was. How long did he have to sit like this, a prisoner entrapped? How long did people kiss and cuddle together, locked in a lover's embrace? Draco couldn't risk opening his eyes. These things were supposed to unfold in their own time, but he was as lost as a blind man. He had never paid attention to this before. He had made love to women in the past, but it was as if he had forgotten whatever he had done in his school days, the exploits belonging to a past life or maybe a friend...memories recounted to him and not his own. He didn't know what to do now, other than to just sit there as if he had been hit by an Immobilus and hope it was all a bad dream. Maybe he was still in his bed in Malfoy Manor, and when he woke up he would find himself alone.

But what good would that do? He would still have to come here and sleep with Pansy, because he wasn't gay. He knew he wasn't, he knew he wasn't he knew he wasn't ... the words were a mantra in his brain, a fervent plea. He was running from the possibility, and this was the last chance for him to prove to himself that he wasn't. He couldn't fail.

"Draco, open your eyes. Look at me."

Draco heard the seduction in Pansy's voice. He heard her arousal. He had made his choice. He had to be here. He opened his eyes.

She unbuttoned her shirt, the catches falling open and revealing her breasts to him. She was wearing a lacy green bra, and there was uncertainty in her eyes. Uncertainty that was there because of him. "You've been with so many girls, I know I can't possibly ..."

The knife twisted in his heart and he leaned over and kissed her. This time, it didn't taste as bitter. Draco knew that she loved him, that she would never have bared her heart to anyone else. It had never been his intent to ruin her. They had been friends, after all. For so many years...he had to do this right. "I'm not going to take you on your parents' dining room table, Pansy," he said when he broke the kiss. "Can you show me to your room?"

Pansy smiled. "Follow me."

Draco followed her through the maze of the mansion. With each step, his trepidation grew. He felt like a virgin on his wedding night. When they got to her bedroom, a spectacle of Slytherin pride, Draco's nerves were frayed.

"You know, Pans, it's getting late..."

She pressed herself against him, snaking her hand down and boldly rubbing between his legs. "It is getting late. So don't waste any more time talking. Your reputation precedes you, Draco. I hear you are a man of action."

Draco swallowed. Her hand on his crotch, massaging, was not making this any easier. He felt that same sense of unease that he had with the backrub, like he wanted to jump away from her and put some distance between them. The pressure to get a hard-on was starting to build, but he felt nothing. Maybe he should kiss her? He leaned down and grabbed her wrists and kissed her.

There! A spark of something. When he grabbed her wrists, he could enjoy that. Draco concentrated on the feeling of power and tried to ignore the rest of the scenario: who he was kissing, the sensation of her soft lips, how tiny she was and how the mounds of her breasts pushed into his chest. He wanted something harder, more violent...but this would do for now.

Pansy growled in her throat, a low moan of pleasure. It broke the picture he was trying to create.

Draco pushed her over to the bed. "Take off your clothes!" he commanded. He didn't really want to see that, but it seemed like something he should want to see. And better have her do it than him.

Pansy scrambled to comply. She paused when she got down to her knickers. "Aren't you going to get undressed, too?"

"Er, yeah. Of course. I was ... enjoying watching you," Draco said. He unbuttoned his shirt and tried not to sigh. It was definitely going to wrinkle.

When they were both naked, Draco climbed atop of Pansy. He wanted to curse himself. It was as if he had suffered a brain injury in that fall from the Liberacorpus curse in the duel with Potter. He couldn't seem to remember how he had been so slick in the past, what had given him his reputation with the ladies. He remembered sleeping with plenty of girls, but he didn't remember thinking so much about things...about anything, back then. He just did it. Now, his head was stuffed to overflowing with too many worries, and nothing was as easy as it once had been. Although at the time, nothing had seemed easy, if he recalled. He thought he'd had it tough back then, as well.

Draco jammed his mouth down on Pansy's to try and get the rushing of thoughts to stop. He had an awful fear that he knew where all of this reasoning was going to end up, and he didn't like it one bit. His brain could think all it wanted, but that wasn't going to change the fact that he was going to fuck this girl. Right. Now.

Draco scrabbled for Pansy's wrists again and held them up over her head. That had seemed to work so well before. Maybe it would work now? He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined the body beneath his was more compact, broader ... He could feel himself getting hard.

Pansy panted and squirmed, her hip bumping against his budding arousal. He wilted.

No! Draco wasn't going to panic. He redoubled his efforts, pinning Pansy more firmly and grinding with purpose into her softness. It was just the exact opposite of what he wanted to experience. She was all jiggly, a cushion that moved. He wanted hard planes, unforgiving and punishing. He didn't want legs reminiscent of pillows and hips that would cradle him. Draco felt the sweat dripping off him as he tried to ignore the distinct lack of tingle anywhere in his body.

I haven't come in my trousers since about third year ...

Those words bubbled up from his subconscious, like Potter had leaned right over and tickled his ear with them. Draco could still see his face when he said them, a little embarrassed, sated, too, like they had a secret. Happy.

Draco was suddenly as hard as he had ever been.

"Draco, ouch. You're hurting me." Pansy's entreaty brought him back.

She was spread beneath him, this girl who was his friend. Draco could see now that she could never be anything more. He felt himself going limp at the sight of her bare beasts and flushed cheeks. He let go of her wrists and sat back. His head hung in defeat.

"Draco?" She was uncertain. "I didn't mean it. I ... I can take it. Go ahead, you can do whatever. I liked it!"

"It's not you, it's me." Draco didn't want to look at her. He couldn't even do better than a lousy cliché.

Pansy hissed. "What? What are you saying?"

"Nothing." Draco slid off the bed and started getting dressed. He knew from experience in situations like these that it was of paramount importance to retain the upper hand. Never admit failure. "It just wasn't working for me, Pans. I think too much of you as a friend. That doesn't mean that you aren't an attractive girl; I just don't want to ruin our friendship this way. You'll thank me in the morning." He was cringing internally at his own verbal ineptitude.

"Draco, stop. Just be honest with me for once. What is it? Is it me? It's my boobs, isn't it? They're too small! Or I could lose ten pounds; I promise I will. I love you, Draco. I always have."

He could hear the tears in her voice, but he just kept buttoning his shirt. Merlin, she was going to make a scene. He supposed it was the least he deserved. What could he say that she would believe? "I love you too, Pans. That's the point."

Pansy jumped off the bed and stood in front of him. "No, not like that. I really love you. No more pretending."

Draco couldn't ignore her anymore. He let his hands drop down. He wanted to look away, but there was nowhere else to turn. He finally had to face her. And himself. He swallowed. "I think ... I think I might be ... gay, Pansy." He said it quietly, and he didn't waver. Malfoys were never cowards, after all.

Silence.

Draco waited. Pansy's face didn't change. The air grew thick with the tension. The weight of things unsaid pulled on Draco's nerves.

"I was honest with you. I think you might have the same respect for me, at least. Do you take me for a fool?" Pansy's voice was flat.

Draco didn't expect to voice his worst fear aloud and then be called out for a liar. "I am! I had sex with Harry Potter!" As soon as he said the words, he wanted to take them back. Why was he always so rash? Draco schooled his features. Don't let them see that you made a mistake, that was the key.

Pansy's jaw fell slack in a way that was less than flattering. She gaped like a large-mouth bass. "You're kidding me."

"Well, it wasn't the whole way. I mean, I don't know what you're thinking, but what I should have said was that we were intimate. Let's back up..."

"You ... bastard! You led me on!" Pansy's stunned moment was quickly evaporating under the force of her anger and turning into a firestorm. Draco could see the fury roiling off of her in waves. He took a step back.

"I didn't mean to, Pans. I didn't know it myself."

She was inconsolable. "How could you 'not know it'? You're a cheat and a snake. You're the one who is going to pay for humiliating me, do you hear me? Don't you think that I will let this one go, Draco Malfoy!" Pansy whirled and lashed out. Her arm caught the objects on her vanity, and the various curios swept into the wall in one sure motion. It was almost a thing of beauty, the way the shattering glass rained down in a destructive shimmer. Draco could only stare, transfixed, as the remnants of anything she could get her hands on met with a violent end. Pansy raged without regard to anything around her, a storm of naked force trembling and incoherent with wrath. Her arms bore the proof of her tempestuousness as little cuts began to form and drip. She looked like a wild thing, and Draco thought that perhaps she was.

"Pansy!" Draco's voice cut through the turbulence and Pansy paused, a jewellery box in hand, ready to throw.

"What?" she shrieked, half-mad.

"Stop this! I don't want to leave like this. I don't want to end it this way. I never meant to hurt you, or for this to happen. You are my oldest friend, and I hope that you can..." Draco paused, the truth burning his throat and his eyes. He continued, his voice breaking. "I hope that you can forgive me. For what it is worth, I do love you. Just not like you want me to be able to. But I can still be a friend to you."

"Get out!" Pansy was almost rabid in her furor. She was a sight to behold, and he hoped he never would have to again. She was close to bursting with the effort of containing the sheer force of her vehemence. "I will never forgive you for this, never!" she sobbed.

Draco backed out. The sound of the jewellery box hitting the door behind him where he had just stood rang out in the relative silence of the hallway. Her shrieks were reminiscent of a Caterwauling Charm and followed him down the long halls. She sounded like some feral thing caught in a trap, the yowls ceding to pitiful cries and whimpers that made him feel like a villain of the worst sort.

Sure, he had broken hearts before, but none like this. Never like this. This one he felt. He suspected he always would.

Draco sneaked back into his own home like a thief in the night. He avoided everyone. If he'd had a sense of foreboding the last few days, it was only intensified now. Beyond knowing he had lost a good friend, he had also made an enemy. And he knew from personal experience that there was nothing worse than a woman scorned. Draco ended the day as he began it, dreaming of Pansy. Only this time, his dreams had turned to nightmares.