Disclaimer: everything from hp books belongs to JK Rowling
Seventeen
They haven't seen each other for years.
It was days, then weeks, and suddenly she was thinking about the last time she saw him three years ago. It was her birthday then. It's her birthday now.
She was seventeen, clever and beautiful, with the world at her fingertips.
She was seventeen, bright eyed and happy, with him at her side.
She was seventeen, lonely and broken, with him walking the other way.
"What's the point?" She thinks over and over again to herself. "What's the point in wishing for him to return, in missing him everyday? He's never going to come back."
She was seventeen and he bought her a diamond necklace with matching earrings.
He was seventeen, cold and handsome, with power accumulating in his hand.
He was seventeen, clever and young, with her at his side.
He was seventeen, confused and hardened, not looking back as he walked away, as he left.
"Hey kid."
"I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen."
"You're still a kid."
"You're a month older than me."
"Still older."
"Hardly wiser."
"Good birthday so far?"
"Could be better."
"How?"
"You could be here."
"I am."
"Now, but I've spent all day hanging out with Millicent. Millicent annoys me. She's so…"
"Annoying?"
"For lack of creativity, yes!"
"Please! She's your best friend. You must like her a little bit."
"Do you like your best friends?"
"Good point."
"The only person in the world I like is you."
"I'm touched."
"You're a prat. It's my birthday. Must you be so sarcastic today?"
"I wouldn't be Draco if I wasn't."
"And I wouldn't be Pansy if I didn't do this."
"Ow! That really hurt, Parkinson."
"Call me Pansy. You're my boyfriend, call me by my name."
"Boyfriend?"
"Companion, life partner. I don't know, call it what you like."
"I…ah… I got you something."
"You didn't have too."
"Of course I did. My mother, she helped me pick it out."
"Your mother's taste is impeccable."
"Open it."
"Malfoy, this is too expensive."
"Parkinson, you're seventeen today. There's no more important birthday than seventeen."
"That's what you said last year."
"And I'll say it again next year."
"You better! You better say that every year for the rest of my life."
"I'll see what I can do."
She watched him leave outside of a window. Heard the door slamming, and the Knight Bus arriving. She never talks about him, not to anyone. But Millicent has seen her sitting by her window on more than one occasion, her hand on the cold window, her nose scrunched up against the glass. She's waiting for something, only she really knows what.
"So this is it, you just leave?"
"Pansy, everything is falling apart. My father's dying for goodness sakes."
"So what! Don't just give up because of your father. You hate your father."
"You don't hate people dying in Azkaban."
"You do. You hate everybody, but me. You don't hate me."
"Don't be so sure."
"That was cruel, Malfoy. Harsh, really."
"Do you really expect any different from me?"
"Yes, because you love me. You should treat me like you love me."
"I'll treat you any bloody way I want to."
"Prat"
"Look, this has nothing to do with you."
"Except that I'm the one you're leaving. Except that I'm the one who's left alone."
"Don't be so dramatic Parkinson. It isn't becoming in a slytherin."
"I hate you."
"You don't really expect me to believe that do you."
"You promised, Malfoy. You promised you would always be here."
"Of course I didn't, Parkinson. I would never promise something like that."
"You did. On my birthday last year."
"All I said was I would try. I tried."
"No, this isn't trying. This is running away."
"Except I'm not running away, I'm walking. Walking slowly out the front door and you still can't seem to stop me."
"No one was ever able to stop you."
"Good"
"Please. Please don't go. What am I supposed to do without you?"
"You're rather pathetic, don't you think?"
"You were always supposed to be here."
"It's your fault for believing I would be."
She watched him leave. Watched his exact steps for hours after he had already disappeared. It destroyed her, ruined her. And she began to wait for him to return, still waits for him to return.
She was eighteen, alone and miserable, forever looking for a way out.
She was eighteen, without the celebrations of last year, without the happiness.
She was eighteen, sad and beautiful.
She was nineteen, and everything he loved about her was slowly fading away.
She was nineteen, beautiful and young, always looking for someone who'll never come.
She was twenty, older and wiser, sadder and lonelier.
She was twenty, still pining away for him, her nose hurting from the pressure of the glass.
She's twenty one, forever waiting, forever wishing in vain.
She's twenty one; she likes to pretend to be seventeen.
"Come away from the window, Pansy. We need to cut your birthday cake."
"Just a second, Millicent, he likes to watch me blow out the candles."
End
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