Chapter 4: New Friends

The sun hung high over Hogsmeade as the early afternoon light bathed the village in a soft glow. The streets, which had been quiet that morning, were now alive with witches and wizards going about their business. Pansy walked beside Narcissa, her mind buzzing with the aftershocks of their breakfast. The game they were playing had grown more dangerous, and Narcissa's moves had caught Pansy off guard.

The café had been filled with whispers by the time they left. Pansy could feel the weight of every gaze as they exited, Narcissa gliding gracefully through the door with Pansy trailing behind her like a shadow. It wasn't the attention that bothered Pansy—she had grown used to being watched, scrutinized, and judged. What unsettled her was how much control Narcissa seemed to have over her, how easily the older woman could unbalance her with a single touch, a single look.

Now, as they walked through the winding streets of Hogsmeade, the tension between them crackled in the air. Pansy glanced sideways at Narcissa, who walked with her usual composed elegance, as though the entire world was beneath her notice. It was infuriating, how easily Narcissa could switch between calculated coldness and something far more dangerous—something almost flirty.

Pansy's heart was still pounding from the intimacy of their breakfast. The subtle touches, the way Narcissa had fed her in front of the entire café—those moments were not lost on her, nor on the others who had watched. It was all part of Narcissa's plan, Pansy knew that. But knowing didn't make it any easier to handle.

They reached a quieter part of the village, the cobblestones underfoot uneven and worn with age. Narcissa slowed her pace, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Pansy's mind raced, searching for something to say that would break the silence, but before she could speak, Narcissa's voice, low and calm, cut through the quiet.

"Tell me, Pansy," Narcissa said, her tone light, "how did it feel to be so… publicly admired this morning?"

Pansy blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. She had expected something cutting or cold, not this sudden interest. "It was… unexpected," she replied, choosing her words carefully.

Narcissa's lips curved into that infuriatingly knowing smile. "Unexpected, yes. But not unwelcome, I hope?"

Pansy met her gaze, the challenge clear in Narcissa's eyes. "I don't need admiration, Lady Malfoy. I need power."

Narcissa's smile widened, and for a moment, Pansy thought she saw a flicker of approval in the older woman's eyes. "Power, you say. And what exactly do you intend to do with this power, once you've regained it?"

Pansy hesitated. She had been so focused on clawing her way back to respectability, on regaining the influence she had lost, that she hadn't truly considered what she would do once she had it. She wanted to be seen, to be feared and respected as she had been before the war. But beneath that desire, there was something deeper, something darker—a hunger that had yet to be fully acknowledged.

"I'll use it," Pansy said at last, her voice steady. "I'll use it to make sure I'm never at the mercy of anyone again."

Narcissa's eyes gleamed with something unreadable, and she took a step closer to Pansy, her presence overwhelming. "A wise answer, Pansy. But remember, power is fleeting if you don't know how to wield it."

Pansy's pulse quickened as Narcissa reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of Pansy's collarbone. The touch was barely there, but it was enough to send a shiver down her spine. Narcissa's gaze never left hers, the intensity of the moment making it difficult to breathe.

"I know how to wield it," Pansy said quietly, though the words felt more like a challenge than a statement.

Narcissa's smile softened, but the amusement in her eyes remained. "Do you? I wonder."

Before Pansy could respond, Narcissa turned on her heel, her cloak billowing behind her as she continued walking down the street. Pansy stood frozen for a moment, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Narcissa was testing her, that much was clear. But to what end? And why did it feel as though she was losing control of a game she had started?

With a frustrated exhale, Pansy hurried to catch up, her footsteps quick and sharp against the cobblestones. "What exactly is this, Narcissa?" she demanded, her voice harsher than she had intended. "What are we doing?"

Narcissa stopped abruptly, turning to face her with a raised brow. "What are we doing?" she repeated, her tone cool and measured. "We are playing the game, Pansy. The same game you started when you blackmailed me."

Pansy's hands clenched at her sides. "But you're taking it further than we agreed. The kiss, the touches—none of that was part of the plan."

Narcissa stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with that dangerous amusement once again. "Ah, Pansy, you still don't understand, do you? The plan was always going to evolve. What you call 'further' is merely what's necessary."

"Necessary?" Pansy scoffed. "For whom?"

Narcissa's smile tightened, though her composure remained intact. She let out a soft, almost indulgent sigh, as though she were explaining something simple to a child. "For both of us, of course. You think this is about appearances, about merely salvaging your reputation? It goes far beyond that, Pansy. But you've only been seeing the surface of things, haven't you?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. "Then enlighten me. What exactly are you after?"

Narcissa's gaze grew sharper, more calculating, as she stepped even closer. This time, Pansy could feel the shift in the air between them, like the tightening of a web, and she knew instinctively that she was caught in it, whether she wanted to be or not.

"You think you're the only one in need of redemption, of regaining power?" Narcissa's voice was low, her words carrying the weight of something unspoken. "Lucius's death left me with many things, Pansy—wealth, the Malfoy name, influence. But influence fades, and wealth alone is no shield in this world. I need something more. Someone more."

Pansy's breath hitched as she realized what Narcissa was saying. "You… You're after someone. Someone specific."

A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Narcissa's lips. "You're not as slow as I feared. Yes, Pansy, there is someone whose eye I intend to catch. Someone with the power to elevate me far beyond the confines of the Malfoy name. And this little arrangement between us?" She gestured between them with a flick of her fingers. "It's the perfect vehicle to achieve that."

Pansy's mind whirled. This wasn't just about salvaging her reputation or playing a public game for the sake of appearances. Narcissa had been playing her own game all along. Their arrangement, the kisses, the flirtation—it was all part of a larger, far more dangerous plan. And Pansy, without even realizing it, had been a pawn.

"Who?" Pansy demanded, her voice sharper now, laced with suspicion. "Who are you after?"

Narcissa's smile deepened, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Does it really matter, Pansy? The point is, you and I both benefit from this. You get to rise from the ashes of your disgrace, and I… well, I get what I want."

Pansy clenched her fists at her sides, a surge of anger flaring up inside her. "So I'm just a tool to you? A way to make yourself more desirable?"

Narcissa's laugh was soft, almost condescending. "We are all tools in someone's game, Pansy. I thought you, of all people, would understand that by now. You wanted to use me to climb back into society's good graces, and I've allowed you to do so. But don't forget, darling, I am using you as well."

Pansy's pulse quickened, her mind racing to catch up with this new revelation. The game had shifted—again—and now she was standing on unstable ground. But Pansy Parkinson had never been one to shy away from danger. If Narcissa was using her, then she would simply have to find a way to use Narcissa in return.

"And what happens when you get what you want?" Pansy asked, her voice icy. "When you catch the attention of whoever it is you're after? What happens to me?"

Narcissa studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she leaned in, her lips just inches from Pansy's ear. "That depends entirely on how well you play your part. If you succeed, you'll have everything you've ever wanted. If you fail…" She trailed off, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. "Well, let's just say failure is not an option."

Before Pansy could respond, she felt the soft, cool brush of Narcissa's lips against her neck. The touch was light but deliberate, sending a shockwave through Pansy's body. Her breath hitched, the sensation lingering in the cool air. Narcissa's hands rested delicately on her shoulders, fingers trailing down ever so slightly as though testing Pansy's reaction.

But just as the tension between them reached its peak, there was a loud clatter nearby. The sound of parchment, books, and quills hitting the cobblestone street broke through the quiet of the village. Pansy's head snapped up, her pulse racing, and Narcissa's lips barely left her skin before they both turned toward the source of the disruption.

Hermione Granger stood frozen a few feet away, wide-eyed, staring at them. Her hands were still mid-air, as though she hadn't even registered that she had dropped her belongings. For a brief moment, all three women were locked in a stunned silence—Pansy's heart pounding in her chest, Narcissa still impossibly calm, and Hermione blinking rapidly as though trying to make sense of what she had just walked into.

"Pansy? Miss Malfoy?" Hermione's voice was breathless, and her eyes flicked between them, her brow furrowing in confusion. She glanced down at the scattered books and parchment on the ground, flustered. "I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Hermione knelt quickly to gather her things, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She moved with the same rapid, anxious energy that Pansy remembered from their days at Hogwarts, her clumsiness exacerbated by whatever she thought she had just witnessed.

It clicked for Pansy. The kiss to her neck wasn't a kiss meant for affection—it was a calculated move, Narcissa had seen Hermione behind them. She had known exactly what she was doing, causing this little scene.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa said, her voice soft but unmistakably amused, "how lovely to see you."

Hermione glanced up, her face still red as she clutched a stack of books to her chest, clearly trying to avoid looking at Pansy. "Lady Malfoy," she stammered, standing up hurriedly, "I—I didn't realize you were… here."

Narcissa smiled, taking a languid step toward Hermione, leaving Pansy standing just behind her. "I do enjoy a quiet visit to Hogsmeade now and then," she said smoothly. "It's such a quaint village, don't you agree?"

Hermione nodded quickly, though it was clear she was still trying to recover from her initial shock. "Yes, it is," she said, her voice too fast, "I mean, it's always been a lovely place. Peaceful, really."

Narcissa's eyes flickered with amusement, and she took another step closer to Hermione, her gaze sweeping over the younger woman with a look that made Pansy's stomach twist. "And you, Miss Granger, still as busy as ever, I see. Always with your nose in a book."

Hermione flushed deeper, clearly uncomfortable under Narcissa's gaze. "Y-yes, I've been working on a new research project," she said quickly, shifting the books in her arms awkwardly. "I was just passing through on my way back to the Ministry."

Narcissa's smile widened slightly, her eyes gleaming with something Pansy couldn't quite place. "How dedicated of you," she murmured, her voice dropping just a touch, enough to make Hermione's already flustered expression falter. "It's so rare to find someone with such… focus."

Pansy's eyes narrowed as she watched the interaction, a strange knot of irritation forming in her chest. It wasn't just the way Narcissa was speaking—it was the look in her eyes, the subtle flirtation laced in her words. And Hermione, who had clearly been caught off guard, seemed completely unaware of the shift in tone.

"Thank you," Hermione managed, though her voice was strained, her eyes darting between Narcissa and Pansy as though unsure of where to focus. "I should—um, I should really be going. I'm already running late."

But Narcissa wasn't finished. She stepped closer again, close enough that Hermione had to tilt her head up slightly to meet her gaze. "Do take care, Miss Granger," Narcissa said softly, her tone laced with something almost playful. "The world needs more bright minds like yours."

Hermione blinked, her cheeks still flushed as she stumbled over her words. "I—thank you, Lady Malfoy. I will."

With one last flustered nod, Hermione turned and hurried down the street, her books still clutched tightly to her chest, her steps uneven as though she were trying to outrun her own embarrassment.

Pansy watched her go, the knot in her chest tightening as Narcissa turned back toward her, that same amused smile still playing on her lips.

"You're toying with her," Pansy muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, but sharp with accusation.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, her smile never faltering. "Perhaps," she said, her voice light. "But what's the harm in a little fun?"

Pansy clenched her fists at her sides, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "She's not part of this game, Narcissa."

Narcissa tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with that familiar dangerous amusement. "Oh, but everyone is part of the game, Pansy. Everyone." The blonde witch hummed lowly in her throat, as though contemplating her next words carefully. "And who knows perhaps she could be the one I am after."

Pansy's heart skipped a beat, her frustration giving way to something colder—something far more dangerous. "Hermione?" she hissed, her voice sharp with disbelief. "You're after Hermione Granger?"

Narcissa's smile widened, her eyes glinting with amusement as she watched Pansy's reaction unfold. "Why not?" she said smoothly, her tone light but calculated. "She is, after all, one of the most influential witches in the Ministry. Her connections to both the Muggle and magical worlds are unparalleled. And her reputation… well, it's impeccable."

Pansy felt a rush of anger twist through her, the idea of Narcissa targeting Hermione—Hermione, of all people—felt like a betrayal she hadn't anticipated. She had expected Narcissa to be playing a dangerous game, yes, but not one that involved someone so… untouchable. Hermione Granger was a war hero, a figure of moral strength, and the very antithesis of everything Pansy had grown up to admire. The thought of Narcissa pursuing her, manipulating her, made Pansy's stomach churn.

"You're toying with her," Pansy spat, her fists trembling as she fought to control her emotions. "Just like you toy with everyone else. You think you can charm your way into her life, use her like a pawn in your game?"

Narcissa's eyes flickered with something dark, her amusement fading as she stepped closer to Pansy. "She is no different from the rest of them, Pansy," she said softly, her voice laced with steel. "She may play at being righteous and noble, but everyone has a weakness. Everyone has something they desire. And Miss Granger, for all her virtue, is not immune to temptation."

Pansy's breath caught in her throat, the weight of Narcissa's words settling heavily in her chest. She hated this—hated the way Narcissa spoke about Hermione as though she were just another prize to be won. But even more than that, she hated the knot of jealousy that twisted inside her, a feeling she refused to acknowledge.

"And what do you plan to do?" Pansy asked, her voice low and tight. "Flirt with her until she falls at your feet? Make her another conquest in your endless pursuit of power?"

Narcissa's smile returned, slow and deliberate. "If that's what it takes." Her hand reached out, brushing lightly against Pansy's arm, a touch so subtle it could have been accidental, but Pansy knew better. Everything Narcissa did was intentional, every word, every movement calculated to provoke a reaction. "But don't worry, darling," Narcissa purred, her voice soft and dangerous, "there's enough of me to go around."

Pansy's jaw clenched, her body tense as she tried to suppress the storm of emotions swirling inside her. This wasn't what she had signed up for. She had agreed to an arrangement—an alliance to rebuild their social standings, to reclaim their places in the world. But Narcissa, as always, had taken things further, twisting the game to suit her own agenda. And now, it seemed, she was willing to drag Hermione Granger into the web they had woven.

"You can't be serious," Pansy muttered, shaking her head as if trying to clear her thoughts. "Hermione wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't what?" Narcissa interrupted, her voice dripping with condescension. "Wouldn't be tempted? Wouldn't fall prey to the very same desires that drive everyone else? Don't be naive, Pansy. She's already intrigued."

Pansy's pulse quickened, her mind racing with the implications of Narcissa's words. Could Hermione really be drawn into Narcissa's orbit? The thought seemed impossible—Hermione was too principled, too righteous to be swayed by Narcissa's charms. And yet, the way Hermione had blushed, the way she had stammered under Narcissa's gaze, suggested that she wasn't entirely immune.

"You're playing with fire," Pansy said, her voice low and dangerous.

Narcissa smiled again, but this time it was colder, more calculating. "And you, my dear, are standing in the flames with me."

Pansy's breath hitched as Narcissa's fingers trailed up her arm, a gesture both possessive and teasing. The touch sent a shiver down Pansy's spine, but it also reignited the fury simmering beneath the surface. She was being used—manipulated by Narcissa in ways she hadn't fully anticipated. And now, with Hermione in the mix, the game had become far more dangerous.

"Why Hermione?" Pansy asked, her voice quieter now, as though trying to make sense of the chaos swirling in her head. "Why not someone else?"

Narcissa's eyes softened just enough for Pansy to see the shift in her expression. For the first time, there was something almost genuine behind Narcissa's gaze. "Because she's untouchable," Narcissa said quietly. "Because no one would expect it. If I win her, Pansy, I don't just regain power. I take control of a narrative no one could see coming. And with someone like Hermione by my side, even the Ministry would bend to my will."

Pansy swallowed hard, her throat tight. It made sense—too much sense, in fact. Hermione's influence, her standing in both the magical and Muggle worlds, her unshakable reputation—it would make Narcissa nearly untouchable. But the thought of Hermione being dragged into Narcissa's plans, of being manipulated by her, made Pansy's skin crawl.

Pansy shivered, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed at her to pull away. But Narcissa's hold on her was too strong—both physically and mentally. And as they stood there, wrapped in the tangled threads of their own ambition, Pansy knew one thing for certain:

She was in far deeper than she had ever intended.

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Pansy froze, her breath catching in her throat as Narcissa's touch lingered. There was something unsettlingly intimate about the way Narcissa kissed her—slow, deliberate, and impossibly confident. Pansy's mind raced, struggling to make sense of the sudden shift from manipulation to something that felt far more real. Her hands hovered awkwardly at her sides, unsure of where to go or how to respond.

Narcissa pulled back just as suddenly as she had kissed her, leaving Pansy breathless, her heart pounding in her chest. Narcissa's lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with amusement at Pansy's stunned expression.

"Good," Narcissa purred, her voice low and teasing, "we needed the practice. Can't be pawing at each other like it's our first time at the ball, can we?"

Pansy blinked, still reeling from the kiss, her mind struggling to catch up with the moment. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she could only stand there, wide-eyed and silent, as Narcissa stepped back with that same effortless grace.

Narcissa's smirk deepened as she turned on her heel, glancing over her shoulder one last time as she made her way to the door. "Don't keep me waiting too long, Pansy. We have much to prepare."