Title: Error
Disclaimer: Blah. You know the drill.
Pairings: Unrequited Theo/Pansy. You hear me? Unrequited. Actual Theo/Pansy shippers, close the window now.
Rating: T
Warnings: Let's just say that if you like happy endings, this fic will not be your cup of tea. Also, the inside of Theo's head is so freaking boring. If you want to smack him, get in line behind me. It was an absolute pleasure to write the ending.
Summary: Theo Nott is a fool. That's all there is to it.
Word Count: 1,904
Author's Note: This was written for Finals Round 2 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 2.
Many thanks to MaryRoyale for helping me get out of the rut I was in. I adore you :)
.x.x.
Error
"What a beautiful view," murmurs Theo as he sips his tea.
"You just like the view of the ports," says Pansy.
"Well. I can't deny that."
"But you do deny a lot of other things," she responds cryptically, but he doesn't bother to decode. Once one got the sense of her, one knew when to just let things be.
He surreptitiously watches her cross her legs as she absently presses her teacup against her lips—or so he assumes that's what she's doing with the teacup, for quite frankly he is more fixated on her legs. It is a secret hope of his that one day she'll seat or arrange herself in some way that reveals more of the skin he's always desired, but she knows how to entice and leave it at that. Her robes stubbornly cover her legs no matter how much she shifts, and all he can do is stifle a sigh and continue sipping his own tea.
They are seated on the porch of her Falmouth estate, facing the harbour. He is intimately acquainted with this harbour, for it has been the site of many questionable dealings in the past. Falmouth's ports may not be the bustling trade centre it used to be, but it functions pretty well for his purposes. The only inconvenience is its distance from his home, but Apparition makes it all trivial.
The sky is overcast today, and he can see ships rocking in the wind. There is only a light breeze on the porch, though, so he figures she must have tempered the wind with wards. It is for the best, really; no sense in messing up his hair.
As they sit there, side by side, he keeps his left hand in the pocket of his robes, gently stroking the velvet box within.
Today is the day. After twenty-five years of pining after her and cursing their circumstances, opportunity is finally knocking. He is widowed, she is divorced, and he has heard from his most trusted sources that her financial situation is getting dire. As lovely as this home is, she can barely afford its upkeep. In fact, he marvels at the fact that she is still able to serve him tea.
It is lovely tea, though. He is not a tea connoisseur (he prefers brandy himself), but he can tell this is quality tea. It is smoothly sweet with a slightly bitter aftertaste, but the bitterness is what gives it character. The bitterness lingers on the back of his tongue like a kiss from someone who doesn't want to let go just yet, and he almost feels a kinship with this tea. He takes another sip and savours it.
As she talks about high societal happenings (who was getting married, who was expecting their first child, whose daughter was having a debut, etc.), he lets the sound of her voice wash over him and enjoys the privilege of being in her presence. Back at Hogwarts, her manner of speech had been brash and unorganised, but as she got older she seemed to relax and take her time with words.
Like a fine wine, he thinks. Then he grimaces at this cliché and has to take another sip.
"Indeed, Theo, isn't it just awful? For her to attend a ball dressed like that! And then the way she brayed about her conquests! Absolutely disgusting. This is one of the few instances where you are justified for not attending, my dear. You really dodged a hex there," she says in apparent response to his grimace. He smirks and nods, even though he hasn't the foggiest who she is talking about.
As she continues on, only pausing once in a while to refill their respective cups, he thinks about how lovely she looks today. From the moment he Apparated onto her grounds, he admired the olive robes adorning her graceful figure as she prepared the tea on the porch, all ready for his arrival. She had also arranged her hair in gentle ringlets that framed her face and made him want to twirl them around his fingers, and she didn't seem to have used much makeup today, which is to his liking. Nothing is sexier than a confident Pansy, especially as she ages.
He has never seen her look so beautiful or so graceful, really. There is just something special about today.
Suddenly, she sets her cup down on its matching saucer and turns to him, cocking her head to one side. "You are listening to me even less than usual, Theo. Is there something on your mind?"
A blush paints his cheeks for a brief moment; what is wrong with him today? He finds it difficult to focus, and for her to actually call him out on it means that he really is being less attentive than usual. Perhaps it is nerves, though he'd never fully admit it to himself. He suddenly feels a bit cold in his core, though the wind isn't buffeting him through the wards.
"My apologies, Pansy. You just look…radiant today."
"You'll have to do better than that," she says, sniffing. "In fact, why don't you just tell me why you're here? You've been silent as a stone for the past half hour, and there's only so much I can tell you before I grow tired."
He looks into her eyes and knows that he'll never find a better moment than this. Having rehearsed and revised the words for the past twenty-five years, he is finally ready.
"Pansy," he says, taking hold of her hand in both of his, "for as long as I've known you—"
"Oh, Salazar," she cuts him off abruptly, jumping a little in her seat as if she's been stung by something. "I understand now. Just—just show me the ring."
"Pardon?"
"Just show me the ring," she snaps impatiently, pulling her hand away. "Do not prolong this any further; I can tell you've got a ten-page speech at the ready, and I simply cannot wait any longer."
He frowns but pulls out the box anyway, because he can never say no to her, no matter how disappointed he feels.
As he opens the box and reveals the enormous diamond he has procured for her, the avaricious gleam in her eyes almost makes up for her interrupting his well-planned speech, but he still cannot shake off the uneasiness niggling at the back of his head. This doesn't feel right anymore.
"Pansy," he whispers, staring warily at the woman whose aura is now positively thrumming. In fact, this goes beyond excitement over the ring's value. She seems agitated.
"Oh, Theo. It's beautiful."
"Of course it is; only the best for you," he says, testing the waters. Now that he is actually listening to her, paying attention to her, he can hear odd hitches in her voice, as if she is cracking now that she is getting closer to her goal.
But what is her goal? Is she really that hard up for cash?
"Oh, Theo. Thank you."
Then it clicks. Pansy would never have said thank you like that, and she definitely would not have cut off his speech—she would have jumped at any chance to hear more praise lavished upon her.
In moments, he's out of his seat and pointing his wand at her, the box and teacup lying forgotten on the ground.
"You're not Pansy," he growls.
She simply laughs. "My, my. It took you awfully long to figure that out, Theo. Perhaps I should consider a career in the theatre."
"I think you should consider telling me who the fuck you are before I hex you into oblivion," he retorts.
"Go ahead and try, darling. I know you won't actually hex me."
She definitely isn't Pansy, he thinks sardonically, and he brings his wand down in a slashing motion, ready to cut this imposter into irretrievable pieces for bringing him into this humiliating situation.
Nothing happens.
"Petrificus Totalus," she drawls lazily, and he finds himself frozen while he's still wondering what the heck happened to his magic.
"Honestly, Theo," she says, sighing, and he can hear her real voice now, which is more masculine. "You really disappoint me. Did you really think you could get away with smuggling illegal artefacts forever?"
Of course he cannot respond or move at all, so he settles for glaring at her in his mind.
She—or he—chuckles, as if sensing his hatred. "You poor sap. The real Pansy is in your manor right now, taking advantage of the fact that you've keyed her into your wards long ago, always hoping she'd stay the night. It's never going to happen, you know. She was never into you. Sure, she was never into her husband, either, but she'd sooner bed a flobberworm than come crawling to a seedy creature like you.
"No, the real Pansy loves only one person, and that's herself. It wasn't easy getting her to agree to this, you know. So much risk, and for what reward? Justice? Hah. No, we had to pay her a hefty sum for her services, and the promise of a night with one of our fittest Aurors. I shan't bore you with the full details, but I bet they're snogging on your divan right now as the other Aurors cart away your ill-gotten gains."
Theo tries to make a fist, but the jinx holds strong. He really cannot move.
"I really am disappointed in you, you know. The first thing Severus ever taught us was not to drink any unknown substance without examining it first. I know this fetching body can be rather distracting, but honestly. A couple of drops in your tea was enough to zap your magic for a week. Well, all right, I am exaggerating—it really took a couple of spoonfuls, but who's counting?"
She leans over his prone body and pulls a pocket watch out of her robes, dangling it in front of him so he can see.
Etched on the back of it are the words, Found it. Will be there soon.
"See this, Theo? My team really does work well when they want to." She puts the watch away.
"In a few moments, they'll come here to arrest you. I told them there's no rush, though, since you're not getting out of that Full Body Bind anytime soon, and I really want this Polyjuice to wear off so you can look into the face of the man who's defeated you. Any moment now, and I can finally gloat with my real face."
As if right on cue, Pansy's features sharpen, and the ringlets straighten and shrink, revealing the towheaded bastard Theo's always known.
"Oh, Theo," croons Draco Malfoy, looking incongruous in feminine olive robes. "You laughed so much when I announced my intention to join the Auror corps. I'll see to it that you'll never laugh again."
If Theo could close his eyes, he would, but instead he is forced to stare as Draco picks up the box and kisses it. He should have known since the moment he saw "Pansy" on the porch. Had he really loved her, if he could mistake someone else's gracefulness as hers?
"Don't you worry, my friend. I'll see to it that Pansy enjoys this ring anyway."
Then there is the popping sound of Apparition, and he knows the Aurors have come to get him at last.