This is my response to day 17 of Siriusly Smart's iPod challenge and the 6th of July "Daily Prompt From the Mods". It is dedicated to Sly-88.

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"Strain this chaos, turn it into light,

I've got to see you one last night,

Before the lions take their share,

Leave us in pieces, scattered everywhere."

-Snow Patrol, 'You're All I Have'

Draco Malfoy pushed open the door to the common room, quickly scanning through the crowd of morose Slytherins. Not even in times of joy would any self-respecting member of their house show any outward sign of enthusiasm, preferring the quiet dignity of stoicism, but now there was no spark of life. The war was drawing to a close, and they had chosen their side – the side of fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts, brothers and sisters – meaning that more than just the pride of victory lay in the balance. He spotted Pansy sitting by the fire, her once bright eyes staring vacantly into the flames. Seeing her so listless frightened Draco more than any other omen, because Pansy had always remained teasing and vivacious, drawing in others and setting them at ease with her wit and beauty.

Beside her sat Blaise, who, for once was too sombre to take advantage of the large number of people surrounding him and launch into an egotistically fuelled anecdote. On Pansy's other side were Crabbe and Goyle, together in their loneliness.

Through thick and thin, Pansy had been relentless in remaining herself. She had never ceased to be the cynical, aloof young woman that he had come to love, refusing to give in and modify her behaviour to show so much as a hint of fear. After Dumbledore had been killed, she had simply shrugged. He was so old that even Trelawney must have seen it coming. But now Pansy looked like a frightened child, her blasé persona lying in tatters around her feet.

Draco took her hand in his, trying not to notice how cold she felt. He hated forces of lightness, darkness and everything in between that had made Pansy – his Pansy – look so frail. She didn't resist as he led her to a window seat.

"Draco?" She stared out at the lake, eyes not meeting his. "I'm scared."

He wrapped his arms around her waist. During the past few months Pansy had lost more weight than even she would consider attractive, but no matter how insubstantial her body became, she would always be the most constant aspect of Draco's life.

"It-" At first he couldn't bring himself to lie, but then he recalled how his father had comforted his mother after his trial, in those scant moments before he was imprisoned. If a man like his father could manage it, then Draco certainly could. "It'll be alright."

Pansy wound her arms around his neck.

"I hope that you're right, Draco Malfoy. I really do." It was impossible for Pansy to successfully pull of her condescending smile, the one that said I know more than you could ever imagine, with tears running down her face. It occurred to Draco that the black smudges were mascara – the fact that Pansy wore cosmetics had never fully registered.

How many other things had he failed to notice?

What if he was never going to have the chance?

He kissed her damp, sticky cheek as gently as he could, marvelling over how smooth her skin felt.

"I love you, Parkinson." He remembered the first time he had said those words – an awkward, stilted proclamation given before he had felt a fraction of what there was between him and Pansy – knowing that she would be recalling exactly the same moment.

"I love you too, Malfoy." Her voice was quiet, with not a hint of suggestiveness. "Come upstairs."

For the last time, Draco climbed the stairway to the senior girls' dormitory. The stone steps, smooth from hundreds of feet rushing to catch breakfast and reluctantly trudging to bed again, were barely visible in the dark, but he was so familiar with their contours that this presented no real hardship. He watched as Pansy pushed the door open, her delicate hand pressing hesitantly.

"Hello?" She called through the slight opening, her voice barely more than a whisper. There was no reply, for which Draco was infinitely grateful. Daphne would be two flights downstairs, sitting like a sentinel and guarding her little sister from all perceived threats. Millicent would be doing whatever it was that the Carrows had asked of her – Draco couldn't blame her for it. Tracey would be sneaking around the castle with her Ravenclaw boyfriend. That left the room to them alone.

Stepping carefully across a discarded robe and managing not to crush any of the trinkets scattered on the floor, Draco dropped into the haven that was Pansy's bed, kicking his shoes off before allowing his feet to touch the bedding. He doubted that Pansy, perched rigidly on the edge of the mattress, would bother insisting that her pristine standards were maintained, and ordinarily there was a part of him that grudged such things, however Draco found comfort in the routine.

"Are you planning on getting in with me?" He placed a tentative hand on her back. She looked very small, and her black velvet robes made it almost impossible to separate her from the shadows.

"Yes." Still Pansy did not move. Only the sound of their breathing filled the air until she next spoke. "Is your mark still burning?"

"Yes. He's on his way." There was no need for Draco to specify to whom it was that he referred. Pansy sniffled. "It'll be alright. We just need to get Potter to him as quickly as possible, and this whole thing will blow over."

It wasn't convincing – not the repetition of the platitude, or the scenario he suggested – not even to his own ears. Draco no longer knew what or who it was that he wanted to prevail. He didn't want to see his father, a man that he would always, despite his recent failures, think of as the enigmatic and influential figure of his boyhood, to remain scrabbling after others. He didn't want to see his mother's beauty worn ragged by even more worries. He didn't want Pansy to suffer either.

"What are you thinking, Draco?" She moved to lie down beside him. Their hands clasped automatically.

"We've been happy, you and I. Properly happy. But we have a whole lifetime together, so I'm not going to reminisce, if it's all the same to you."

She laughed weakly. Pansy had always found his abrupt manner to be a source of amusement.

"Then what will we do? Talk about the future?" He didn't have to see Pansy's face to know that she was rolling her eyes. He had always been reluctant to begin making plans for them.

"Something like that." Draco watched as she rolled onto her side, a strand of hair falling across her face. He brushed it away to reveal an expression of surprise, which Pansy quickly covered with a yawn. "Do you think we'll get married and have children and all that kind of stuff?"

"Stuff? Could you be any less romantic?" Pansy swatted his shoulder. Her playful anger faded after a moment. "I don't know. Maybe... Why, are you asking?"

Draco considered. He couldn't imagine life without Pansy by his side, a life without her accepting everything that he was. Nothing would be as good without her. Everything would be incomplete. He would have gone as mad as Loony Lovegood. Draco wished that there was some way he could tell Pansy.

"I think so. We can have an engagement party after..." Still, it seemed surreal. Draco didn't feel old enough to have a fiancée. Draco hadn't felt old enough to do any of the things he had done since before he had taken the Dark Mark.

"With balloons and ice-cream?" Pansy giggled. "No, we can wait a while before that stuff."

Draco kissed her forehead, glad that they were of one mind.

"I'm still frightened, Draco." Her tone bespoke resignation more than it did fear. He didn't know which was worse.

"Me too, Pansy, me too." And he was. He tightened his grip on Pansy's hand. Reassuringly, she returned the gentle pressure.

Together they waited.

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