Authors Note: I actually combined two of my un-posted Draco/Pansy fics and here they are...together!
Disclaimer: Nada mine
Draco and Pansy are both sixteen in this one.
Oh by the way: I've always thought that Slytherins had an analytical/philosophical side so it shows...but just a bit.
:-)
"What are we going to do now?"
"Well that's the beauty of it, whatever we want."
~Sweet November~
~*~
"What if you had a party and no one came?" She asked him seriously as she kicked at the dirt with her mary janes.
"I don't know," was the reply. "Probably go see if Father had anymore vodka left. Why?"
"I was just wondering," she said.
"Cee, did you have a party? Because I'm sure people would come, I mean, I'd come."
"No, it's nothing like that, Nolan."
"Oh, okay."
"Plus," she added in a much more confident manner, "I'm popular, loads of people would show."
"I'm sure," he said and she caught the bitterness in his tone.
"Do you really drink vodka?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"What's it to you anyway?"
"I don't know," she said, "maybe it's nothing to me."
"It shouldn't be."
"How're Crabbe and Goyle?" She asked conversationally.
"How should I know?"
"You guys' are friends," she said, and instantly knew better.
"Friends, yeah, sort of like impossible isn't it?"
"What's that supposed mean?" She demanded as he raked a hand through his wavy hair.
"It means-" he said as though he was talking to a two year old "-that we're Slytherins we don't have 'friends' we have 'better enemies' honestly, Cee, I thought you'd know that."
"Well, we're friends aren't we?" She assumed the air of a little girl and he chuckled softly.
"Yeah," he said, "maybe we are Cee."
"Maybe?" She rounded on him, "Just maybe?"
"Yeah," he said and she caught the distant look in his eyes "-just maybe."
There was a short pause and she accepted his answer.
"You're acting like such a -" he said before he was cut off
"Don't even say it."
"I was going to say Princess."
"No you weren't."
"You're right, I wasn't."
"I love our honest relationship," she said rolling her eyes.
"There's something to be said for it."
"Yeah, I guess. Are you terribly bored?"
"I'm awfully bored, not terribly bored-"
"You just don't like my words!"
"No, I don't."
"You little Shakespeare-loving-"
"I do not love Shakespeare."
"He was odd."
"Yes, he was."
"But he's a classic, don't tell me your parents never gave you classics to read?"
"They gave them to me and I never read them," she said.
"I didn't read them either," he admitted without guilt. "Actually, I ripped up the pages."
"Destructive, aren't we? I just put mine under the vanity."
"It's absolute tosh."
"Of course it is," she agreed, "rich people tripe."
"We are rich people," he reasoned.
"Kind of. . ."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know but I've always wanted a hand-me-down cloak. The ones with pumpkin pasty stains and the velvet wearing off-"
"That's ridiculous," he added.
"Of course it is, and that's why I love it."
"Just because you and your odd fantasies always wanted a 'hand-me-down cloak' doesn't mean we're any less rich."
"Not per se."
He spat upon the concrete angrily
She kicked a dark quaffle that was recently on the ground at him.
"You aren't supposed to kick those, you know," he informed her and then picked the ball up.
"So what? When has that ever stopped us?"
He nodded, put it back down upon the wet grass and kicked it back at her. She stopped it and kicked it back.
"Whose quaffle is this?" He asked.
"...I don't know..."
"It can't be yours, you have less Quidditch talent than Weasley."
"Maybe I'm practicing," she said indignantly. "And what we really need is a chorus of 'Pansy is Our Princess'"
He rolled his gray eyes.
"No, I think it's from the Manor," she added seriously
"Mine?"
"No the other humongous house next to yours," she replied caustically.
"You used to be so sweet," he chuckled at her sarcasm.
"No, I don't think I've ever been sweet. Remember when I hit you with that pan? Or when I told Snape you were cheating off of my exam? Or when your Father caught us snogging in his study and I said that I had been trying to get away?"
He laughed fondly lost in memories and ruminations. "Yes, maybe I'm giving you too much credit."
"Impossible."
"Any new boyfriends?" He asked softly and stopped kicking the quaffle for a second.
She looked at him dully and struggled. "Not really," she admitted. "Crabbe tried to snog me."
"He *what*?"
"Tried to snog me," she added absent-mindedly. "Don't act so surprised, you think stuff like that doesn't happen everyday?"
"But Crabbe?"
"Hey, he has good taste."
"Good taste like Cornelius Fudge and his lime green bowler hat-"
She giggled. "Any girlfriends for you, Nolan?" It'd be a silly habit of hers to use his middle name.
"No one up to par," he said smugly and continued kicking the quaffle.
"Oh that's surprising," she replied caustically. "I mean there's me."
"Like I said, no one up to par."
She looked very annoyed at this comment. "Why thank you. And don't think you can treat me like you treat those Gryffindors. I'm in Slytherin, I'm an equal."
He pushed a strand of sugary white hair out of his eyes. "Right."
Kicking the quaffle angrily at him she added, "Gods your daft."
"Me?"
"No the other Draco Nolan Malfoy standing next to you, yes, you."
He was about to mimic her when she went on, without a pause. "Oh honestly, you care about me, don't you?"
Bluntness and brutality always came first in Slytherin House.
"Cee, you're like this awful thing that I can't get off me. This thing that follows me and asks me where I'm going, and would follow me to the end of the earth. I couldn't leave you if I tried. See, I can't get away from you; you're this intense history and childhood of mine. I care about you-" the words sounded a bit rusty "-because you're like a bad, comfortable friend."
She looked at him and her amethyst eyes blinked she would have said 'that was beautiful' because to her it was, but she knew that he didn't mean it to be sappy or beautiful.
"Yes," she agreed, "you can't run away from your best friend."
Then she ran towards him and began an insane tickling match between the two. She squirmed but he had such a good grip on her that she couldn't move much. He tickled her sides, and finally when he let her go the two were exhausted.
"Just like old times," she grinned.
"Just like old times," he agreed, "but without the vodka."
"Well," she smiled sneakily "that can be arranged."
~*~
La Fin
Disclaimer: Nada mine
Draco and Pansy are both sixteen in this one.
Oh by the way: I've always thought that Slytherins had an analytical/philosophical side so it shows...but just a bit.
:-)
"What are we going to do now?"
"Well that's the beauty of it, whatever we want."
~Sweet November~
~*~
"What if you had a party and no one came?" She asked him seriously as she kicked at the dirt with her mary janes.
"I don't know," was the reply. "Probably go see if Father had anymore vodka left. Why?"
"I was just wondering," she said.
"Cee, did you have a party? Because I'm sure people would come, I mean, I'd come."
"No, it's nothing like that, Nolan."
"Oh, okay."
"Plus," she added in a much more confident manner, "I'm popular, loads of people would show."
"I'm sure," he said and she caught the bitterness in his tone.
"Do you really drink vodka?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"What's it to you anyway?"
"I don't know," she said, "maybe it's nothing to me."
"It shouldn't be."
"How're Crabbe and Goyle?" She asked conversationally.
"How should I know?"
"You guys' are friends," she said, and instantly knew better.
"Friends, yeah, sort of like impossible isn't it?"
"What's that supposed mean?" She demanded as he raked a hand through his wavy hair.
"It means-" he said as though he was talking to a two year old "-that we're Slytherins we don't have 'friends' we have 'better enemies' honestly, Cee, I thought you'd know that."
"Well, we're friends aren't we?" She assumed the air of a little girl and he chuckled softly.
"Yeah," he said, "maybe we are Cee."
"Maybe?" She rounded on him, "Just maybe?"
"Yeah," he said and she caught the distant look in his eyes "-just maybe."
There was a short pause and she accepted his answer.
"You're acting like such a -" he said before he was cut off
"Don't even say it."
"I was going to say Princess."
"No you weren't."
"You're right, I wasn't."
"I love our honest relationship," she said rolling her eyes.
"There's something to be said for it."
"Yeah, I guess. Are you terribly bored?"
"I'm awfully bored, not terribly bored-"
"You just don't like my words!"
"No, I don't."
"You little Shakespeare-loving-"
"I do not love Shakespeare."
"He was odd."
"Yes, he was."
"But he's a classic, don't tell me your parents never gave you classics to read?"
"They gave them to me and I never read them," she said.
"I didn't read them either," he admitted without guilt. "Actually, I ripped up the pages."
"Destructive, aren't we? I just put mine under the vanity."
"It's absolute tosh."
"Of course it is," she agreed, "rich people tripe."
"We are rich people," he reasoned.
"Kind of. . ."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know but I've always wanted a hand-me-down cloak. The ones with pumpkin pasty stains and the velvet wearing off-"
"That's ridiculous," he added.
"Of course it is, and that's why I love it."
"Just because you and your odd fantasies always wanted a 'hand-me-down cloak' doesn't mean we're any less rich."
"Not per se."
He spat upon the concrete angrily
She kicked a dark quaffle that was recently on the ground at him.
"You aren't supposed to kick those, you know," he informed her and then picked the ball up.
"So what? When has that ever stopped us?"
He nodded, put it back down upon the wet grass and kicked it back at her. She stopped it and kicked it back.
"Whose quaffle is this?" He asked.
"...I don't know..."
"It can't be yours, you have less Quidditch talent than Weasley."
"Maybe I'm practicing," she said indignantly. "And what we really need is a chorus of 'Pansy is Our Princess'"
He rolled his gray eyes.
"No, I think it's from the Manor," she added seriously
"Mine?"
"No the other humongous house next to yours," she replied caustically.
"You used to be so sweet," he chuckled at her sarcasm.
"No, I don't think I've ever been sweet. Remember when I hit you with that pan? Or when I told Snape you were cheating off of my exam? Or when your Father caught us snogging in his study and I said that I had been trying to get away?"
He laughed fondly lost in memories and ruminations. "Yes, maybe I'm giving you too much credit."
"Impossible."
"Any new boyfriends?" He asked softly and stopped kicking the quaffle for a second.
She looked at him dully and struggled. "Not really," she admitted. "Crabbe tried to snog me."
"He *what*?"
"Tried to snog me," she added absent-mindedly. "Don't act so surprised, you think stuff like that doesn't happen everyday?"
"But Crabbe?"
"Hey, he has good taste."
"Good taste like Cornelius Fudge and his lime green bowler hat-"
She giggled. "Any girlfriends for you, Nolan?" It'd be a silly habit of hers to use his middle name.
"No one up to par," he said smugly and continued kicking the quaffle.
"Oh that's surprising," she replied caustically. "I mean there's me."
"Like I said, no one up to par."
She looked very annoyed at this comment. "Why thank you. And don't think you can treat me like you treat those Gryffindors. I'm in Slytherin, I'm an equal."
He pushed a strand of sugary white hair out of his eyes. "Right."
Kicking the quaffle angrily at him she added, "Gods your daft."
"Me?"
"No the other Draco Nolan Malfoy standing next to you, yes, you."
He was about to mimic her when she went on, without a pause. "Oh honestly, you care about me, don't you?"
Bluntness and brutality always came first in Slytherin House.
"Cee, you're like this awful thing that I can't get off me. This thing that follows me and asks me where I'm going, and would follow me to the end of the earth. I couldn't leave you if I tried. See, I can't get away from you; you're this intense history and childhood of mine. I care about you-" the words sounded a bit rusty "-because you're like a bad, comfortable friend."
She looked at him and her amethyst eyes blinked she would have said 'that was beautiful' because to her it was, but she knew that he didn't mean it to be sappy or beautiful.
"Yes," she agreed, "you can't run away from your best friend."
Then she ran towards him and began an insane tickling match between the two. She squirmed but he had such a good grip on her that she couldn't move much. He tickled her sides, and finally when he let her go the two were exhausted.
"Just like old times," she grinned.
"Just like old times," he agreed, "but without the vodka."
"Well," she smiled sneakily "that can be arranged."
~*~
La Fin