"Are you mad?"

Well, Draco hadn't really thought so until just then, but now that she'd remarked upon it... He very well might be, for continuing with such a ridiculous conversation. The things we do for family, he thought, barely masking his impatience. Preserving what was left of the Malfoy name was proving to be more of a chore than he'd originally anticipated.

"Pansy," he said, with the mild disdain of one who has already explained things once and is dreadfully tired at having to do so again, "difficult as this may be for you to understand, there are certain things a Malfoy simply will not do."

Or at least, will not admit to in public. Joining with Potter, however, was not a notion any wizard of breeding would entertain, even if only to himself.

He sneered as Pansy said (rather aghast, he thought), "But Draco... You have to realize that DA is growing is strength, and the Mark - it, it isn't right."

That sort of thing never was, until they won.

With the flick of a wand, he waved away such tedious matters as right and wrong.

"What was that?" he asked, coolly raising a brow with great rhetoric command.

"I- I don't quite recall," she said, glancing around in a somewhat bewildered manner. "Were we speaking of something?"

"I don't quite recall," he echoed mockingly. He watched with a vague indifference as her lower lip began to tremble. Really, she had nobody to blame but herself; no-one formerly of the house of Slytherin should have agreed to a meet without being fully prepared for the possible consequences.

And besides, it wasn't as though he could've *allowed* her to remember their little chat; he had no intention of joining his father in Azkaban, no matter the degree of familial love.

He'd just have to tell his mother that it wouldn't work out with Pansy after all, he thought, as Pansy attempted to compose herself sufficiently to apparate home. Poor girl seemed to have a memory like a sieve.

He smirked and adjusted his robes, and with a sharp crack, was gone.
 

~end~