Bitter Rain
by: epiphanies
"Come on!" Draco Malfoy tugged impatiently at Pansy Parkinson's long ebony school robes. She didn't move. She stood in the Slytherin Common Room, arms folded and looking annoyed.
"Draco, just because your father died doesn't mean that I'm getting myself all wet just to go for a bloody walk."
"Of course not. It doesn't make a difference that father's dead. Just come on, won't you?"
A crack of lightning echoed through the dungeons. Pansy raised a blonde eyebrow. He tugged again.
"Please?" he pleaded. She rolled her eyes.
"Fine. Let's go catch our deaths."
Draco smirked. Pansy was no pushover, nor any form of softie. But if Draco wanted something badly enough, she, of all people, knew how irritating he could become.
They walked silently until they reached the castle entrance. Draco held open the door, and she stepped out onto the landing. She hadn't yet unfolded her arms.
"So," she sighed as he stepped beside her onto the threshold, "Too bad about your father."
He knew she was just saying that. She hadn't flinched or cried or even said she was sorry when she found out. Not that it mattered, for neither had he. His father hadn't exactly been Draco's favourite person.
"Yeah, my Mum's all alone in the manor now," he said conversationally, "Not that he and my mother spent time together anyway."
Pansy shivered and held her robes closer to her lithe little body, "Yeah, my parents don't even seem to be on a first name basis."
Draco nodded. He knew this, he had been to the Parkinson Estate many times before. He had heard the fighting, he had seen the scars that were so fruitlessly hidden under twelve layers of makeup on Lady Parkinson's skin. Scars were not easy blemishes to hide, Draco knew this. He rubbed the inside of his wrist absent-mindedly, waiting for another lightning bolt to illuminate the sky.
Pansy glanced at him.
"You're a little bit upset about him though, aren't you?" she said, without much conviction.
"No." Draco lied. The truth was, he didn't like that his father was dead merely for the fact that it left his mother alone. Narcissa and Lucius had never appeared to be in love, and Draco knew that he should be happy that his mother was free from the cruel words, the harsh beatings, and the unforgivable curses. He knew he should be jumping for joy for his mother being freed from her painful world, her cold prison. But now she was alone.
Draco had always been able to withstand the cruel words and harsh beatings. Black eyes and broken noses and Cruciatus curses. He was a big, strong, tough kid. Well, strong and tough moreso than big.
But he couldn't bear being alone. And, the thought of his mother alone in that big marble mansion made his skin crawl.
Pansy watched him, "You really do look like him, though."
"Don't say that," he sighed, and she bumped him playfully with her hip.
"Why not! Your father, however evil, was a very fine specimen of man."
"Oh, for the love of Grindelwald, Pansy. He was your GODfather!"
"Which makes me your Godcousin or Godbrother or something like that, but it doesn't stop us from snogging in Myrtle's Lav, does it?" she laughed coolly and grabbed his hand. She led him out into the rain as lightning sparked the moonless sky.
"Besides," she said, looking up and blinking at the rain in her eyes, "He's gone and you have everything he once had. You have money, youth, vitality, endurance," she winked, "looks, charm-"
"And the inane talent to abuse sarcasm to the point of rendering one speechless."
"That too," Pansy smiled at him, but it wasn't a normal smile, obviously, because to see Pansy smile would probably be an odd and frightening experience. No, a Pansy-Smile was a slight upward curl of the lip, a raised eyebrow, a playful glance. And everybody else who tried to copy it failed miserably, because it was Pansy-Smile.
Draco shut his eyes and let the cool rain spill down his face. He wondered if crying felt like this.
"So, Sparky," Pansy let go of Draco and smacked his backside lightly, "You up for a round in Myrtle's Lav?"
"Only if you are," Draco took a breath, opened his eyes, and they walked back up the stairs and re-entered the castle, sopping wet and neither caring because they were going to be in Myrtle's Lavatory momentarily, and the wet clothing and bitter rain would evaporate off of their bodies, and there would be no more pain.
And, sometimes, things just had to be that way.
La Fin.