Andrea Gibson Quote Competition: "You are not weak just because your heart is heavy."

Drabble Club: window

Quidditch Pitch: "When did [people] get [hearts]?"

AN: This is a Muggle!AU. Also, I'm planning on continuing this when I get the time. Think of it as the prequel to a multichapter. Please review!

She's just the girl sitting on the bar stool every night, staring out the window.

At least, that's all she should be.

But to Scabior, she's more than just a girl. She's more than a girl who never smiles, more than a girl who looks like she's' been frozen in a state of misery. She's more than cracked lips, more than puffy eyes rimmed by red.

Scabior knows that if you look closer, if you squint, if you really, really search, you can see something behind the mask. A something so precious, a something you can hate and love at the same time. A something that Scabior just can't place.

Maybe it's because it's something he never sees.

A smile tugs at Scabior's lips as he runs a hand through his hair, the tangled brown strands wrapping around his fingers, refusing to let go. "Give me an Avada Kedavra!" Yaxley yells over the constant clattering of the dishes and knives chopping.

Scabior pulls on his gloves, cracking his fingers. "How spicy?" he asks, throwing a glance at the customer, who smirks.

"Very spicy." A harsh laugh escapes the man's lips. "I like my food that way."

Scabior grins at him, hoping that he won't notice the slight yellow that mars his teeth. "Good choice," he says. With practiced ease, he grabs the ingredients as the man lists them off and places them in the soft burrito carefully.

He wraps the finished burrito in the special foil branded with the Death Eater sign. Much to his satisfaction, he's noticed that the man has been staring at the burrito with a hungry glint in his eyes. With a chuckle, he sets it down into the bag—which also bears the Death Eater sign—and hands it to the cashier.

Scabior pulls off his gloves as he calls out, "Taking a break. Be back in a few." He grabs his dinner—just a sandwich stuffed in a paper bag as usual because Scabior doesn't feel like doing much else in the morning—and walks out from behind the counter. He sits down at an empty table, leaning back and resting his feet on the green vinyl.

"On the house," Alecto says, her lips stretching out in a ghastly grin as she sets a cup of fizzling soda down before him. She throws him what she thinks—what Alecto thinks is always horribly wrong—is a flirtatious wink before sauntering off. Scabior bites the inside of his cheek to hold back the laugh bubbling up.

He's eating, just eating, the first time he sees her. It seems wrong that it so ordinary, so… mundane. How could anything be mundane when it came to her?

The first thing Scabior knew when he saw her was that she was anything but mundane.

She was dark red lipstick, black-lined eyes. She was laughs and smirks and those smiles.

She walks in with a boy—Scabior thinks it's a Malfoy from the glaringly blond hair. They're laughing and sharing those secret looks that make Scabior so, so jealous for some strange reason. He doesn't know this girl, but seeing her there, with him, fills him with rage.

Scabior watches as she saunters up to the counter, examining her fingers idly as she lists off what she wants, wearing a careless smirk. Scabior doesn't know why, but that smirk is precious.

He leans forward slightly, trying to hear what the Malfoy boy's saying to her, but all he can hear is the name, Pansy.

Pansy.

For now, that's enough. It's just a name, but it's more than anything he could have.

Pansy.

He has a feeling that this princess is going to drive him insane.

It's a month later when he sees her again. By then, he's almost forgotten about her, but that name keeps coming back, keeps whispering. Pansy.

It breaks his heart to see her this time.

With the first glance, he can tell she's broken.

Scabior can't help but walk over. He pulls out the bar stool beside her and sits down sighing. Turning slightly, he stares at her from the corner of his eye. He can see the tell-tale tracks of dried tears smeared across her face.

"Stop looking at me," she snaps, swiveling around to face him.

Scabior nods, his throat dry. What should he say? "Anything wrong?" he asks. Of course, something's wrong, you dolt. He curses his stupidity.

Pansy glares at him through watery eyes, pulling at the ends of her hair. "None of your business."

"I'm making it my business," he says, meeting her eyes with a small smile. "What's wrong?"

"Bloody waiters," she mutters. "Think they deserve to know everything."

"I'm still here, you know."

"Shut up." Pansy bites her lip. "Just leave me alone, will you?"

"No can do, princess." Princess. The word rolls off his tongue so easily. It's like he's known her for so long.

Almost immediately, she growls. Just like that, all the brokenness disappears, and she's not weak anymore. No, she's a snake ready to bite. "Don't ever call me princess."

Scabior wonders if the Malfoy boy called her princess.

"It's alright, you know," he says after a long moment of thinking. She regards him with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "It's alright to tell people that everything's not okay."

"Why do you care?" she asks. He hears her whisper, "When did people get hearts?"

"Everyone has a heart, princess." Her gaze snaps back to him. "Some people don't show it." He takes a deep breath. "Sometime's it's because their hearts are too heavy."

"If your heart's heavy, you're weak," she says. "I'm weak." He can tell how much it hurts her to say that.

"You're not weak, princess." He can see that someone's sucked all the life out of Pansy. But she's not weak.

Pansy stares at him before a tear slips out of her eye. She swipes her hand across her face quickly, turning away.

Someone's sucked the life out of her, and Scabior's going to bring it back.