Who: Dransy What: coming home to Pansy after a bloody, dark day. When: Sunday, 9 January, very late night. Where: Pansy's flat. Warnings: mentions of violence, for starters. Status: Complete.
Draco had been planning for this day for a while. He'd found the young blonde woman, rather exceptionally Luna-like if he did say so himself, two days earlier; she'd been kept in the dungeons at Malfoy Manor until he could make use of her. Then, just before the wolf hunt, he'd destroyed her: rendered her completely unrecognizable, except for her distinguishing feature, her hair. As always when taking a life, there was a part of him that enjoyed it, and a part of him that cringed away; he relied on the former to get the job done, but clung to the latter for his own sanity. The last thing he needed was to go insane with bloodthirst; he needed to keep his wits about him.
Then had come the hunt: darkness, adrenaline, and yet more blood on his hands. He hadn't captured the wolf himself, but he'd seen it brought in, helped to ensure that the first stage of the plan went smoothly. Finally, when all had been taken care of for the night, he was allowed to go home.
Thankfully, he didn't have to go home, to face his parents as he stood on the floor above the blood-soaked dungeon and see the mixture of pride and despair in their eyes as they looked at him. Pansy had offered him the respite of her bed, and he wanted nothing more than to take her up on it. He didn't even go home to wash up after the hunt and change; he Apparated directly to her flat.
In the bathroom, he washed his hands and face and stripped off his bloodied and tree-torn robes, setting them aside. He folded his clothes, stared at himself in the mirror in the dim light for a moment, and then entered her room quietly, moving to her bedside, and slid under the covers, closing his eyes.