Written for Dyno_Drabbles and won First Place! Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
Pansy stared into the glass of Ogden's best until tears clouded her vision. Unwilling to let them fall, she sniffed loudly and hastily scrubbed her eyes, glaring at the barkeep that had threatened to cut her off three shots ago.
"Another," she muttered.
"I really think you've had—"
"Just give her another, Tom," a voice said from behind her.
Oh, great. The ink wasn't even dry on her divorce papers and here the magnanimous prat Potter was there to rub her face in it. Figured. He worked with Draco so of course he would come to gloat.
The drink was poured and she slugged it back as if it were water, her taste buds already dead from the shots before. "I didn't invite you to sit," she groused when Harry sat off to her left.
"My legs are tired," he said conversationally. "I don't think I can make it to a booth."
She snorted into her glass. "Suit yourself." Raising another full glass, she saluted Harry. "Here's to pre-nuptial agreements!"
He nodded since he didn't have a drink. "Did you insist on that or did Draco?"
Slamming the glass on the counter, she licked her lips and smiled drunkenly. "Ha! I did." She leaned in close, almost nose to nose with Harry. "They say marriage is a contract, but it isn't. Contracts come with warranties."
"That they do." He leaned a little closer as well. "But were you even the slightest bit happy?"
Was she? Was she ever happy being married to Draco? "We were happy for eight months," she said with a slight hitch to her voice, "but we were married for four and a half years. You do the math."
Harry smiled lopsidedly and took her hand, squeezing it. "Why did you wait until now to do something about it?"
Her glazed-over eyes darted to his mouth and she felt an odd sensation build in her chest when she realised he was trembling. Harry Potter was nervous talking to her! Wait. Why was he talking to her in the first place? What was the question again? "Pardon?"
The sod had the nerve to chuckle. "Never mind. Let's get you home."
"You know, now that I think about it, if I had Avada'd his arse when I first thought about it, I could've been out of Azkaban by now," she rambled, not moving from the barstool.
"You don't mean that," Harry mumbled after grabbing her elbow. He pulled her off the chair and held her steady while she wobbled a bit. "You loved him then, you probably still do."
Tears filled her eyes and she looked at him pleadingly. "Just once, I'd like someone to love me instead of the other way around."
Hesitantly, he wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. "You never know," he said softly. "Maybe someone already does."
"Really?"
"Really, really." He still held her in his arms. "Think you can walk?"
She nodded... and then promptly emptied her stomach on his shoes.