006 and 011
Prompt:006 - Hours
Rating:PG
Twenty-four hours in a day, one hundred sixty-eight hours in a week One hundred sixty-eight hours left until he, Gregory Goyle, loyal minion to future Death-Eater scum Draco Malfoy, could return to his parent’s home. The home that he would undoubtably have to himself for the majority of the summer. He could drop the dunce act, maybe drop by Pansy’s once or twice, and overall begin to feel like himself again. He wondered if he’d escape the usual invite to stroke Draco’s ego for a few weeks - the chances were slim that Draco would simply forget about him, no matter how much he wished.
They’d been five, the first time he and Draco had been left under the watchful eye of the Goyle’s house-elf while their parents had gone out on some sort of night time extravaganza. Draco had quickly asserted himself, ordering Gregory to turn over his favorite toy. When the larger boy refused, the toy burst into flame - as had Gregory’s cat. Draco had simply stood there, stamping his foot and glaring at the other boy who had been reduced to tears.
“You’ll do what I say, or I’ll tell my Daddy, and he’ll make you wish you had - and he’ll let me watch,” the younger Malfoy had declared after he’d calmed down some.
Gregory had been stuck with him ever since, their fathers convinced that the two were best friends. There was something in the elder Goyle’s eyes which told that he suspected the truth, and Gregory recognized the look his father gave Lucius as the same he gave Draco - fear, hatred, and disgust.
It never ceased to amaze him just how slowly time could crawl when something you wanted waited on the other end.
Now they are nearly men, and Draco’s coming into their dorm. His voice is quiet, but Gregory listens, and bows his head, closes his eyes, and listens to the tic of his watch.
Freedom has a price, and everything has a time.
Prompt:011. Red
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Blood squick.
Pansy remembers her mother telling her about this - if it means what she thinks it means, then she’s never leaving this bathroom. The blood feels warm and somehow dangerous, running down her thighs, dripping onto the floor and her shoes. She knows there’s a charm, or even a little cotton thing she can use to stop it, but she doesn’t.
The room is cold, and she’s shivering, but she’s sure that if she leaves she may as well be dead. They’ll be bonded over the summer, this summer, and these next few moments are all she’ll have of freedom, all the time she gets as her own woman because of her body’s sick clock.
Blood bond. Draco Malfoy. Pansy Malfoy nee Parkinson - she doesn’t think she can take it. She wants her parents to be proud but she can’t imagine being bonded to that prat. She wants her Gregory, calm and quiet and steadfast since they were babies.
New moisture on her skin - tears, streaming down her face silently. Slytherins don’t cry, she tells herself, wiping away the tears. Footsteps in the hallway, and then Millicent - ugly, gargoyle Millicent, precious Millie - is there beside her.
“Oh Pans... here, let me stop that...” she whispers, quickly flicking her wand. Pansy is clean now, no sign of the blood except for a few stains on the floor.
“Millie - ” she whispers, her voice a question within a question.
She’s pressed against Millicent’s breast, safe for a time. She knows that they will always be together, somehow, and with a moment of clarity slides her finger through the blood on the floor. Millie’s looking at her now, confused, and Pansy just smiles.
“You’ll never leave me, right?” she whispers. The other girl shakes her head. Pansy leans down, running her blood along her friend’s lips. Their mouths meet, the blood mixing with sweat and saliva.
It’s done, and elsewhere in the castle no-one notices save one blond boy, who feels something like a needle pricking his lips, and the taste of blood. He’s been played for a fool, and will never know.