From Wiltshire, With Love

Chapter 63

Draco kicked the dueling dummy, pushing it to the side in a pile with the other items he used for combat training. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the muscle strain and wiped his forehead on his sleeve.

The dummy was adequate for maintaining his deflection skills but other than that, it wasn't much of a challenge anymore. Sparring with Jugson was the only way to improve further. Draco never beat him, and only managed to get in the occasional hit. Probably more from luck than anything else.

He turned to head back to the Manor and stopped mid-stride. Pansy stood in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, watching him. His stomach twisted with unease.

Fuck.

Draco wondered how she'd processed the fight in the drawing room. After hearing nothing, he thought torturing Hermione covered his tracks. He'd hoped so anyway. Maybe Pansy could tell it was fake. Having already seen him deny Pothead's identity she would have been suspicious.

Warily, he approached her, heart thudding loudly and wondering what she'd say. As he got closer she placed a hand on her hip, taking in his sweaty, dirty attire with obvious distaste.

He didn't say anything as he closed the gap between them, silently gazing down at her.

She tilted her head and peered up at him.

"It's you."

He felt his chest collapse, as if all the air was being squeezed out of his lungs at once.

"It's been you all along," she continued.

Even if she hadn't told anyone - and she probably hadn't - she wasn't an Occlumens. Pansy knowing he was a spy was dangerous.

For her. For both of them.

Draco fingered his wand. He'd have to Obliviate her. It was the only way.

Pansy's dark eyes lowered to his hip and he tightened his grip on the wood.

He opened his mouth to explain but she held up her hand.

"Just tell me you're getting Theo out. We're running out of time."

He swallowed, and relaxed his hold on the wand in relief. "I know. They're getting things set up for him."

She parted her lips as if she wanted to say something, and then exhaled in irritation.

"Will they win?"

"Why?" he cracked a grin, feeling a bit more at ease. "Are you going to defect? Go into hiding with Theo?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him.

"Fuck you, Draco," she stuck a finger into his chest. "I can't do that anymore than you can. I want to know what you know. Right. Now," she ground out, punctuating her words with more pokes to his chest. He winced.

Draco gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist and lowered her hand. "They've got a decent chance."

She rolled her eyes.

"They've got a decent chance." Pansy parroted his low voice in irritation. "Start talking, Malfoy."

Draco thought of the massive amount of intel the Trio recently gathered in a situation where they should have – for all intents and purposes – been tortured and killed. And now they had a fucking goblin ready to help them get into Gringotts. If anyone could figure out how to break into his aunt's vault, it was Hermione Granger.

"More than decent," he clarified.

She tucked her short black hair behind her ear. "Can they kill him?"