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The noise from the ballroom spilled out to the veranda, a cacophony of agonized screams and spells blasting against statues.
Pansy stood with her back to it all, eyes trained on the horizon, her curls blowing in the breeze.
Cracks that sounded like thunder rolled through the room, leaving deafening silence in their wake.
Pansy waited.
“You failed.” She slammed her mental walls into place, refusing to turn her gaze. Of course, he didn’t like that, and his icy fingers dug into her shoulder, pulling her around to face him.
“I did as you asked, everything you asked,” she said, fighting to keep her voice under control.
“If you’d done as you were asked,” Lucius snarled, baring his teeth, “we would have them.”
There was a time she’d thought he was an appealing man, but that was before the fall of the Order of the Phoenix. Before he’d lost his son to the resistance's cause, and subsequently lost his role in the Dark Lord’s world.
“That wasn’t what you asked me to do. You asked me to get Draco’s attention, to make him think I wanted out, and then get you an opening. I did, now please, let me go.” She couldn’t hold back the tears. “I don’t want to… I don’t like the role you’ve made me play. I — I’m of no use to you anymore, they’ll know it was me who let you in.” His grin was feral as he grabbed her arm and began to drag her away from the railing.
“Oh, darling, you’re mine , remember? You’re still plenty useful to me.”