Everyone knew that Pansy Parkinson was practically betrothed to Draco Malfoy, and as proper pureblood children they were sure as hell going to comply with the wishes of their parents. Her Mother and Father were eager for this alliance with the Malfoy family, and she'd be damned if she was going to disappoint or shame them, and so, by Merlin, she was going to make the boy fall in love with her. It was only fourth year, and their hormones were only just beginning to really kick in, making it the time to commence the persuasion. Sadly, this corresponded with a distinct straying of Draco's attention to certain other Slytherin girls, and Pansy wasn't going to stand for it.
Some might call it desperate, the way she clung so constantly to his attention, but she was fourteen bloody years old; she had no clue how to woo a boy, and certainly not Draco Malfoy of all options. Of course, the other problem was that she could barely stand him with his obnoxious arrogance, and his determined bullying, particularly not when he was putting down the boy that she truly loved.
Cedric Diggory was a dream with his feather-soft hair, and his sweet smiles, and his intelligence, and his Quidditch ability, and his—Well, the list in her diary went on and on. He was absolutely everything that Draco wasn't, was absolutely everything that Pansy wanted, was absolutely everything that Pansy could never have. She knew it, she accepted it, but she let herself love him nonetheless.
She'd first met him all the way back in first year. He was a Hufflepuff, of course, and she'd already known she was supposed to scorn them all, but he'd been so kind as he helped her to pick up the books she'd dropped and she couldn't help but smile her thanks. As the years went by, and she started to really pay attention to that sort of thing, she'd begun to notice how handsome he was—how wonderful in every way, really. They talked every now and then, when there was no one else around to care; in the library sometimes, or out on the grounds. Nothing deep, nothing meaningful, just little scraps of moments, which she cherished.
He didn't know of course; they weren't really even friends save under the most skewed of definitions, but she loved him terribly, and her every attempt to claim Draco for her own was an intense betrayal of her heart. At the Yule Ball, Pansy had made a great fuss about Granger's appearance—for all that she rather felt that it was about time the girl made an effort to shine outside of the world of academia. But she'd had to do something—anything—to distract herself from the sight of Cedric and Cho stupid Chang fitting together so perfectly. She'd thought that knowing she could never have him would take some of the sting out of watching him have someone else. She'd been devastatingly mistaken.
Today was the day of the third task. The ceaseless worry that had accosted her since the drawing of the names from the Goblet could come to an end after this. The first task, with the dragon… Merlin she'd nearly died of fear, but she hadn't been able to show it. Perfectly composed pureblood Pansy had watched in horror as Cedric took on the dragon assigned to him. And then that lunacy in the lake! Well, he'd gotten back from that alright, but it had been awful having no idea what was going on, and having nothing to distract her from the endless awful possibilities. She'd wondered briefly why the bloody hell Cho wasn't there to cheer on her boyfriend, perhaps a bit smug that she herself was. But then he'd drawn the girl from the water, and oh, how Pansy had wished it could've been her clinging to him as tightly as his clothing.
But now they were all gathered in the stands by what had once been the Quidditch pitch to watch the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric was devastated by what they'd done to it, she recalled with a very deeply buried smile—the sort that flits gently through your mind rather than your lips and leaves behind a warming happiness.
It had been some time since the contestants had entered the maze, and Fleur Delacour had already been removed from the task. She'd been brought out unconscious just moments ago, and Pansy determinedly forced herself to believe that it had been Cedric who'd sent up the sparks for her rescue. This meaning, of course, that he was still perfectly well himself. Just another few minutes and surely someone would reach the end of the maze so this blasted event could be over.
As time dragged on she became less and less confident. What if he was injured and hadn't been able to send up sparks? What if he hadn't had a chance? And then—her heart leapt—there he was… But he wasn't moving. And Potter was sobbing into his chest. And his parents were rushing down to him. And he wasn't moving. And then a flood of peaceful silence swept suddenly over the stadium. Pansy could see people screaming, people crying, people conferring urgently, but there was no sound. She leaned back in her seat, her mind as peaceful as the world around her because, really, Cedric couldn't be—He was just hurt, like Fleur, and he'd wake up in the Hospital Wing in an hour or so and be just fine.
"Wonder what got him," Blaise said casually.
"Got him good either way," Goyle replied. "Bloke's dead, that's for certain."
"No…" Her voice was too soft to be carried beyond her lips, and she gripped the bench tightly. He couldn't be dead. Hadn't she just decided this? She stared, transfixed, as Dumbledore bowed his head in grief, as Mr. and Mrs. Diggory sobbed inconsolably into one another, as a grief-stricken Potter was led away. And then her eyes lit upon Cho, and she saw the same denial, the same frozen disbelief, and it hit her. Cedric was gone. And it seemed to hit Cho at the same time, for she promptly collapsed into the arms of her dorm mates, distraught beyond tears. Because Cedric was gone.
And Pansy couldn't cry either, because she was a Slytherin girl, and Slytherin girls didn't cry, and if ever they did it wasn't ever over stupid Hufflepuffs with stupid hair. But Cedric was gone. The thought echoed in her mind, and she doubted her strength for one split second as she felt the world tumble into chaotic pain.
And then she steeled herself and she leaned over and she kissed Draco Malfoy for the very first time. Because there was nothing left to stand in the way of being everything she was supposed to be anymore, and now more than ever she had to be the Ice Queen of Slytherin. And Pansy Parkinson was stupid, maybe, but never—ever—weak, and since she wasn't strong enough to hide her pain, she wouldn't let herself feel it; she wouldn't let herself mourn. Not even now that Cedric was gone.