Without
by : epiphanies
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She wears very odd socks.
She does, you know. They're like gloves, only socks and they're striped silver and green. They kind of make me proud, when she wears skirts and the colours are there, full out and waving.
That girl is on the arm of Draco Malfoy, they'd say, and they would think about bowing as well, because everybody knows that we'll rule the world one day.
She paints her eyes so they look 'sexy' and rolls her boney hips as she walks, so all the boys will stare and she can turn and wink with thick eyelashes. The winking makes me jealous, sometimes.
After all, that's how we started courting. She painted and rolled, I stared, she winked and I smirked. And we understood each other.
The only blondes in the entire school belong to my house, Slytherin. I prefer blondes. Vipers. No matter the sex, blonde wizards are just better. Female? Insatiable.
Pansy is a very 'speak your mind' kind of girl, but with a streak of modesty. That's why she wears the socks. She made up half the lyrics to "Weasley is Our King" without credit. She made the banner and assembled us all into altos and tenors, basses and sopranos. She made us practise and even harmonize the song and by the end we all secretly hated it, but nobody said anything. Especially not me, because if I had, then they all would have. Who wants that?
She taught us to wear our colours proud and where in the matches to laugh mercilessly like the Slytherins we were born to be. She's the brain behind everything I say but she says stuff, too. Good stuff. Important stuff, only she makes sure it's not more important than mine.
She wore pig tails when we were children, and little gingham dresses and sun bonnets. She had a toothy little smile for when we danced in the mud on rainy days, like we used to do.
Our glasses clinked when we turned sixteen - we have the same birthday, but hardly anyone knows. She said once,
"Don't take this weird, but do you think we're two halves of the same person?"
I didn't have to answer.
I learned how to plant a thorny garden below my window from her. She taught me that double-sided Sello-tape would stop Ridley the Cat from scratching my mother's oak furniture. I learned from her that I can live without just about anybody. Just about. I learned that hands can be used for so much more than writing notes in History of Magic.
Ashes become snowflakes in her world, and when I touch her cheek, she is cold - but in a good way. Winter isn't liked by many, but I think it's beautiful.
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end.