A/N – Hey everyone! Another one-shot, I couldn't help it. It's a Draco/Pansy this time though, which may surprise a good few of you. It's based on a short-story I read once. I love it, major twist alert though!
Enjoy! And don't forget to review. . .
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Without Draco
Disclaimer: All thanks to JK for the characters. The plot is based on a short story called "Without Jonathan"
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Pansy Parkinson walked through Diagon Alley, past Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Thinking: That was the exact table we sat at sharing a chocolate-boggart ice cream, right before he proposed to her five years ago and she had, of course, said yes. It was where they had sat right before finding their dream home. Now though, all these memories lead to one thing: her life without Draco.
The setting sun was warming her back, and she shook her head; trying to clear those sad – but stubborn – thoughts. Stop thinking about it! Look around you, she ordered herself. Look at all the happy people around you; look at the way the sun is setting on the ground, turning it a soft purple-gold. Look at the snowy white owls in the window of the store, hooting for the evening. Look at the absurd old witch trying to sell over-priced –and probably dodgy- dragon liver.
And look at you: a twenty-nine-year-old woman in expensive green robes, walking fast, towards a new life. A life without Draco.
Ten minutes later she came to a stop outside the Leaky Cauldron, as she stopped at the door she turned to the right. Her heart gave a distinct thump at what she saw. It was a shop that sold Quidditch supplies. In the window she had noticed an ad for the new broom; the Honeymooner 3000. They were everywhere now, couples were buying them right and left. Everybody had one. It was a broom that, when you clicked a button at the back, folded out into a beautiful room; a honeymoon room, with a huge heart-shaped bed and an alcohol cabinet. The perfect getaway. You flew with your husband/boyfriend, then folded out the broom and Voila; instant romantic vacation.
But what had made her heart thud so hard was that it was the exact same broom they had got, right down to the silver and green colouring. Slytherin colours. Actually, Draco had gotten it about two years ago, Pansy hated flying. She had thought he would grow out of it or lose interest – like any other boy with a new toy – but she had been wrong. Even thought she never went with him, Draco had never grown out of it. He spent nearly every weekend on it, going someplace new and exotic every time. She didn't mind though, he would always bring her back something new.
Oh, Draco. . .
She took a deep, slow breath, trying to still her pounding head and heart, she –
A shout behind her, a child had spilt his ice-cream on the ground. She turned away, frantically trying to keep from imagining about his death. The broom breaking and wobbling above the grey and tossing ocean. Draco falling off. His scream filling the air, yet no one answering. His arms waving about wildly as he fell.
Oh, Draco. . .
Pansy leant against the wall, shutting her eyes. Trying not to picture the cold, dangerous water. The water responsible for her life without Draco.
No, she thought to herself. No. Think about Robert instead.
Robert Salmonz, the man she was going to have dinner with at the Leaky Cauldron, the first time she had been out with a man for. . . since she almost couldn't remember. She's met through a personal in the paper. They'd owled each other a few times and, after quite a while of nervously sending letters, she'd felt comfortable enough to meet with him. They had agreed on the Leaky Cauldron finally. Robert had suggested the Dragon's Breath, but that was Draco's favourite place; she just couldn't meet Robert there.
Pansy thought back to the letter he had sent her last night. Robert had written, "I'm average height and pretty well built, I have a tattoo on my left arm." She had written back, somewhat nervously, "I've got dark hair, I'm five-four and I'll be wearing green robes." Thinking about what she had written now, thinking how those simple words outlined a single life, meeting people you'd never met before, only owled.
Not that she had any problem with dating, in fact, she was sort of looking forward to it. She's met her husband when she was eleven years old, and even though they'd gotten engaged when she was twenty-four, she'd never really dated anyone else. But now was her chance to have fun again, to be single. She would meet interesting and nice men, and would enjoy making love again. She was going to relax, and try not to be too much of a widow, even if it was hard.
But there was one thought she kept coming back to: Would she ever actually fall in love again? The way she'd once been so completely in love with Draco? And would someone else ever love her like that?
Pansy took out her mirror to check her make-up. Glancing at it, she knew she passed the test with flying colours. Though she was almost in her thirties, she still had no wrinkles, sparkling eyes, full lips and a nice nose (thanks to some work on it). Also, her body was in perfect shape. She was slim but not skinny and though her breasts were slightly small, she knew that in nice, tight robes, she would get some attention.
Oh yes, she would find the perfect guy, one who would love her. Maybe someone who appreciated her wild side, the daring and sexy side. Maybe someone would love the deep and sensitive part about her, the romantic bit. Or maybe someone who would appreciate all of her, who loved everything about her.
The tears started flowing freely down her cheek, and she slipped the mirror back into her pocket and faced the wall.
"No, no, no." she whispered, forcing images of her husband out of her mind. And images of the cold, unforgiving ocean.
She calmed down a few minuted later and took out the mirror again, this time to re-apply her makeup and wipe her eyes dry. She glanced at her watch. Six-thirty. She wasn't supposed to meet Robert until seven-thirty, he was working until around then. Pansy wasn't quite sure why she had come early, nerves probably. She hadn't gone on a date in so long. She wondered restlessly if she could have a drink by herself while she waited, wondered if it would be alright.
Of course it will be alright, she chided herself. She could do anything she wanted, she was going to be a new person. Go on, go get started with your new life!
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Not too far away, in an expensive part of Muggle London, Peter Andons walked up the driveway of a stately home, taking a quick look at his watch. He knocked on the door and looked around him, re-adjusting his brown work-robes. It was obviously a very expensive house, he could just tell by the atmosphere. He double-checked to make sure he had the right house, and took a step back.
A pretty blonde woman in her early thirties opened the door about half-a-minute later. She was quite buxom and her hair was a little messy, but the main thing Peter noticed was that she smelled distinctly of alcohol. She was casually dressed in grey pants and a white jumper.
"Yeah?" she asked, a confused expression on her face.
"I'm with Ministry pest control," Peter said, pointing to the engraving on his wand. "I'm here to get rid of the boggart."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you supposed to be coming later?"
"Another job fell through, and you were next." He explained.
"Oh. . . well okay." She stepped aside and he walked in. "Normally I could do this myself, but I can't seem to make it explode. I heard that there were some cases like that, and you got people like yourself to come do it."
"That's right." Peter answered, looking around. "Professionals." He added. The place was relatively clean, but there were a couple alcohol bottles lying around. He felt her eyes on him, and he didn't worry; he was used to it. He wasn't that handsome, but he had a good body and gave off an air of self-confidence.
"You want a drink?" the woman asked. "By the way, I'm Hanna."
Peter eyed the drink in her hand. "Thanks Hanna, can't while I'm working."
"Right then," Hanna replied. Actually, Peter wouldn't have minded a drink, but he was looking forward to one when he was finished here.
Hanna lead him through the house, passing many rooms. It really was quite a big house. They passed a picture of two kids and Peter paused at it. "You have kids," he said, nodding at the picture. "They're fantastic, aren't they?"
Hanna took a sip of her drink. "Yeah, if you like pests." She muttered, continuing walking. They walked up a flight of stairs, and Peter could feel her eyes on him again as they reached the top.
"It's in the bedroom," she said in a low, seductive voice. Peter nodded.
"Where are your kids tonight?" he asked.
"The pests are at the bastard's," she said, laughing at her little joke. "We do the joint custody thing, my ex and I."
Peter blinked. "So you're all alone in this big house?"
"Yeah, unfortunately." She said suggestively. Peter nodded again, it was slightly fortunate for him. "And this, is my bedroom." She said, opening the first door. They both walked in, she still sipping on her drink. She sat down on the unmade bed and nodded at the closet. "It's in there."
Peter walked towards the closet, then stopped. "You should probably close the door." He suggested. Hanna nodded and got up, still holding her glass. As soon as he back was turned Peter was behind her with his wand he's just taken out of his pocket. He covered his hand over her mouth so her scream was muffled.
Pointing his wand at her head, he whispered those two words. "Avada Kedavra!" The glass fell and rolled, and the alcohol stained the carpet a blood red. Her body went limp and she slumped against him.
Peter sighed and dropped the body on the bed. His hand was hurting, and he looked down to see bite marks in it. The hand he had covered her with. He shook his head and dragged the body off the bed. He pulled the sweater off, and then the grey pants.
He paused. Hold on. What was his name supposed to be?
Frowning, he thought back to the letter he had sent last night. What had he said his name was?
Then he nodded in relief. That's right. He'd told Pansy Parkinson his name was Robert Salmonz. He glanced at his watch, it was only seven. He'd agreed to meet her at seven-thirty at the Leaky Cauldron. That gave him plenty of time.
He smiled and threw the pants and sweater aside.
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Pansy Parkinson sat at a small bench in the dim light, Diagon Alley was lit up for night-time now. All the cafés and restaurants were thriving and couples were walking by her holding hands for evening strolls. Just like she used to do with Draco.
She had done a bit of shopping, she had bought some elegant, figure-hugging robes. If she was going to start dating again, she was going to look good. She had been on her way back to the Leaky Cauldron when she had felt the urge to go sit at the little bench where she and Draco used to sit together for hours, talking about anything and everything.
She shook her head, it wouldn't do to be thinking about Draco when she was meeting Robert Salmonz soon. Pansy wondered how the evening would go. A chill in the air caused her to shudder and she stood up and headed towards the Leaky Cauldron entrance.
The Leaky Cauldron had changed a lot since she was at school. It was more romantic now, she thought as she sipped from her glass at the bar. It wasn't so dirty and dingy either, it was more cosy and warm. A very nice place, all candle-lit. She felt very brave, sitting by herself and sipping her drink confidently.
She smiled, her moods changed constantly, just like the colour of the ocean.
The deadly ocean.
She thought about the man she was meeting tonight, in this romantic, pretty place. She panicked, maybe she wasn't ready for this yet. Should she owl Robert and tell him she wasn't ready?
No, she scolded herself. Stop thinking like that, you're a new woman, remember?
Robert was the first step in her new life, her life without Draco. An utterly essential step.
And there he was, a good-looking, well built man in dark, fancy robes. Nice body, she reflected to herself, waving to him. He gave a charming smile and walked over to her.
"Pansy? I'm Robert." He gave her a firm handshake, and she gave an equally firm one back, liking him instantly.
"Right on time." She smiled. "I thought maybe you would be late, I know how sometimes it's hard to get off work."
"I practically control my own times," he said.
They took a seat at a table and chatted for a while, making small-talk. They were seated next to a window and Pansy couldn't help but picture the dark ocean when she looked out at the dark evening sky. Draco in the deadly ocean. But she forced those thoughts away and concentrated on Robert.
They talked for a long time, he was divorced with no children, but he wanted some. She told him that she and Draco hadn't had children either, but she wanted them too. They talked about who was running for Minister, about Quidditch.
She was getting a bit tipsy, and she noticed that she was drinking more than he was. Watch it, she told herself, still talking to Robert. But then she thought about Draco, and drained another glass.
At around ten pm, Robert looked around the emptying restaurants. He met her eyes. "Do you want to go outside?" he asked. Pansy hesitated. This was it, she could go home or go out there with him. She thought of her decision, and thought of Draco.
"Yes," she said. "I'd love to."
Outside, they walked side-by-side in the direction of the bench she had been sitting at earlier. They reached the bench and she nodded and they both sat down together. Robert was close to her, and she was half-thrilled and half-unsettled at the same time. They sat in silence for a few minutes, relaxing. Robert stretched his arm and it fell along the back of the bench, not really on her shoulders but she could feel it.
Robert looked over at the Dragon's Breath café, to where a couple was sitting drinking and laughing together. "That's him there right, the handsome one?" he asked, pointing at the man.
"Yes," Pansy said, "That's my husband. That's Draco." She shivered, not from the cold but from disgust, as she watched her husband kiss the petite blonde. She saw the Honeymoon 3000 perched on the seat next to her husband, ready to go.
She was about to ask Robert if he was going to do it tonight – to murder her husband – but then shut her mouth quickly deciding that he, like most professional killers, would rather if she didn't say it aloud.
"When's it going to happen?" she asked simply.
- - -
They were now walking slowly away from the Dragon's Breath; Robert had seen what he needed to do.
"When?" he asked. "It depends. The woman with him, who's she?"
"One of his slut secretaries I think. I'm not sure."
"She spending the night?"
"No, I've been spying on him for weeks now. He'll make her leave at around midnight. He hates clinging mistresses. He'll have another one tomorrow, but not until midday."
Robert nodded. "I'll do it tonight then, after she leaves." He looked at her thoughtfully. "I'll probably use my broom too catch up with him, then wait for him to fall asleep. I'll take him on my broom above the ocean, carrying him and his own Honeymoon 3000 broom, after I've killed him of course. Then I'll smash the broom a bit and let it and him fall. I'll make it look like his broom broke while he was flying and he fell to his death."
"Sounds perfect," Pansy answered. "Do you always make it look like an accident?"
"As much as I can." Robert said. "You know that job I did tonight I mentioned? It was getting rid of a woman up in Muggle London. She had been abusing her kids, literally beating them. 'Pests', she called them. Sickening. She wouldn't stop but her ex couldn't get the kids to say what she was doing because they didn't want her in trouble."
"Merlin, that's awful."
"I know. The ex-husband hired me. I made it look like some rapist killed her."
Pansy raised an eyebrow. "And did you. . . ? You know. . . if you made it look like rape. . ."
"Oh Merlin no," Robert frowned. "I wouldn't do that. Just made it look like I did."
Pansy smiled, maybe some men weren't so bad. "Aren't you worried I could tell someone about you?" she asked curiously.
"I've been doing this for so long, I know who's fake and who's for real. Besides, I've spent a couple of days checking you out."
Pansy nodded and took a bag of money out of her robes. Five thousand Galleons. It was worth it, and besides, it was Draco's money. This struck her as amusing; he was being killed by his own money. Robert took it, putting it into his own robes.
"Your name isn't really Robert, is it?" Pansy asked.
"No, I don't tell anyone my real name. Safety reasons."
"Fair enough." She replied.
They came to a stop. "You sure about this?" Robert asked her.
Pansy asked herself. Do I truly want Draco dead?
Draco. The man who tells me he's going exploring on his broom but he's really taking women or his young secretaries out for the night. Who spends our money on them. Who tells me a few years after getting married that he doesn't want children, even though we planned on them. Who treats me like an idiot when, and if, he talks to me, which isn't often. Who nagged and cajoled me into quitting a good job I enjoyed. Who yells every time I want to get some more work. Who complains whenever I wear 'sexy' clothes, even though we haven't made love in almost two years. Who flies into a rage whenever I want a divorce.
"I'm positive." She answered.
"Go home, I can take it from here. Practice being the grieving widow." Robert said.
"That's easy," Pansy said bitterly. "I've been a grieving wife for a long time now."
She waved goodbye and walked off, enjoying the cool breeze against her face. Now was the time for her new life, a life without Draco.