For Siriusly Smart
"Give me another five minutes, alright?" Pansy called down over the banister. She couldn't hear Draco's exact reply; though it was something impatient and noncommittal, she was sure. Gritting her jaw, Pansy hurried back into her bedroom, and checked her appearance carefully. After a moment of deliberation, she ran a hairbrush through her hair once more. She'd bought a special smoothing potion for it, and rather liked the effect. Hopefully Draco would too, but it had been so long since he'd bothered to run his fingers through her black tresses.
Drawing her wand, Pansy determined that tonight would be different. With a careful twist of her wrist, she lengthened her eyelashes just a bit more and fluttered them, pleased with the effect. Certain her face was perfectly composed after the last hour and a half of preparation, she stepped back to admire the full effect.
The gown was really gorgeous. It had cost her more than she cared to admit, but was it was worth every knut. It was a full-length masterpiece of lavender silk. She'd even spent the extra to have the gown tailored, and it fit her beautifully; without a doubt, it would remind Draco how lucky he was to have her. If all went according to plan, it would spark that glint in his eye- that boyish, lustful gleam that had for so long been dull and dormant. The dress showed her shoulders and throat to perfection, and the intricate beaded embellishment eliminated the need for jewelry. It was so soft that she could hardly keep from running her hands over it, and she hoped Draco would feel the same compulsion.
It would work. They hadn't been intimate in so long, surely Draco was miserable about it as she. They were both exhausted , she knew, by the long struggle back to a place among decent people, and while Draco had once been indignant and fiery, he'd lately become... vacant.
Pansy told herself it had nothing to do with her or their relationship. Certainly that wasn't the only area where his passion had waned. True, he was still fighting valiantly when it came to the restoration of his name and family's former power, but it must be exhausting him. That's what things between them had been rather... tired, lately.
Content that she would take his breath away, Pansy beamed in the mirror and grabbed her clutch before hurrying down the stairs, heels clicking.
"I'm ready," she announced with just a touch of dramatic flare. He was staring with disinterest out the window, but turned when she spoke.
His eyes flickered over her, and she felt a thrill.
"That..." he began slowly, and she eagerly nodded in encouragement, breathless in anticipation for just one word of affection.
"That," he drawled, "is not your color."