"There are only two reasons to marry," Pansy's mother told her when she was young. Pansy, adding the final touches to her doll's outfit looked up.
"Oh?" she asked innocently. Her mother nodded and sipped her tea, looking out at the lawn from the terrace.
"Yes," she replied airily, "Money and to kill bugs." Pansy made a face.
"Bugs, mother?" Her mother nodded again.
"Bugs. But, of course, if they're rich enough, they should have a house elf for that. So really, that only makes one reason. Money."
"But what about love, mother?" Pansy's mother snorted and shook her head.
"No Pansy, never marry for love. Love is far too much work, and never satisfying. No Pansy, only faerie tales have love, and even then you don't see them after the love, do you? No Pansy, you are above love, do not let some foolish boy convince you that you are in love."
And that was the end of the discussion. Pansy Parkinson's mother never brought it up again. She was only six at the time, but Pansy remembered every word.
Even through Hogwarts she remembered her mother's words, harsh as they were. She dated a boy in second year. A "mindless twit" she told her mother later, from Ravenclaw. She broke his heart the moment he said "I love you Pansy" and promptly forgot his name.
After all, love is far too much work and never satisfying.
She turned her attentions to Draco Malfoy. Really, her attentions had never left them. The moment she wrote home to her mother and told her about the blonde haired boy, she had received instructions to stay with him. He was money. He was old money. He could take care of Pansy.
Pansy was a pretty girl. It was easy to get Draco's attentions on her.
In the fourth year, Draco asked her to the Yule Ball. It thrilled Pansy, who immediately agreed. That afternoon as she prepared for the ball her friends discussed excitedly about the date.
"Oh Pansy, you're so lucky to be going with Draco. He's so handsome! Do you love him Pansy?"
"No," Pansy replied simply. The other girls stopped and stared.
"How can you not? Weren't you talking the other week about how you planned to marry him?" Pansy carefully pinned back a side of her short dark brown hair, the other she left loose to fashionably fall in her face.
"I do plan on marrying him," she replied, checking her self in the mirror and adjusting her dress robes slightly.
"Then why don't you love him?" Pansy rolled her eyes and turned to the other girls, sneering.
"Love is a foolish thing. It takes too much work and is never satisfying. There are only two reasons to marry: money and to have some one squish bugs for you. Now…" she turned back to the mirror, "How do I look?"
It took the other girls a few minutes to reply, but soon their praises and compliments filled the room as Pansy smirked.
Pansy always believed in her words, her mother's words. She never fooled herself with love. She would flirt to get what she wanted and leave them hanging once they got it. She had no shame. After all, if a boy was fool enough to believe in love then they were merely asking to be used. Draco was no fool, but he kept Pansy close. Not for love, Pansy told herself, but for appearances. Not to mention she was the only girl in the school worthy of five minutes of Draco Malfoy's time.
Yet in fifth year, something changed. Draco and Pansy actually talked. It was an amazing thing really. Crabbe and Goyle had gone to bed while Draco did his homework and wrote an exceptionally long letter to his mother who longed for updates in his life. Pansy, unable to sleep, moved to the common room in order to read a book without waking up her roommates. Before both of them had realized it, an hour had passed, and Pansy's outlook on love had changed.
She quickly found her self in a downward spiral all leading back to Draco. While she had been attached to his side most of their school careers anyways, now it was even worse. She had to be by him. Had to touch him, even barely brushing him, otherwise she would go insane.
The two would constantly disappear together, out of the common room but not in their dorms, and it didn't take long for the other Slytherins to put two and two together.
When Draco's father was put in Azkaban and the Dark Lord's return was announced to the public, Pansy stood by Draco. Old money didn't disappear, Pansy's mother insisted. Pansy added on, silently, that new love didn't break. At the train station, Draco pulled her aside and kissed her.
"Write to me Draco?" she asked breathlessly.
"Of course, perhaps you can visit?" he replied. Pansy nodded.
"PANSY!" Pansy's mother yelled looking around for her. At the same time they could see Draco's mother looking frantically for her son in the thinning crowd as well.
"Be safe this summer Draco," Pansy pleaded, kissing his cheek and tightening her arms around him. He rested his chin on her head and hummed.
"Of course Pansy." Then they separated and left returning to their respective mothers.
Pansy knew Draco would become a Death Eater. It was his blood. Yet when his letters started coming more sporadically and became darker as he spoke of the meetings, she grew worried and troubled. She was never happier when they returned to school. To have his head in her lap and her fingers in her hair when they were on the train set her right instantly. Yet through out 6th year Draco seemed less and less interested in her. It wasn't a girl that had him, no, it was the Dark Lord and the job he had been assigned. Fearfully Pansy watched as Draco changed into some one whom she couldn't name. As he disappeared alone more often, she found herself more alone. She couldn't help but feel that she had been a fool for falling in love.
The night Albus Dumbledore died, Pansy felt, for the first time in her life, truly and completely afraid. There were rumors of the Malfoy family. Narcissa Malfoy, it seemed, could not keep a hold of her manor. Lucius was locked up in Azkaban. Draco was wanted for murder. Pansy feared for her love.
It wasn't until a week into the summer that Pansy heard from Draco. It was a letter, with nothing but her name on the envelope. As she read the letter, she felt her heart turn cold.
My dearest Pansy, I assure that I am safe in my travels. I regret to inform you, though, that I find myself unable to love you any longer.
She did not bother reading the rest, calling for the house elf to burn it. She pinned her hair back and looked at herself in the mirror, silent tears flowing from her eyes.
"Love," she growled to her mirror, "Is a fool thing. Meant only for faerie tales. Any boy who believes in love begs to be used. It is too much work, and not very satisfying."