TITLE: Haloed
AUTHOR: Aviatrix
PAIRING: Draco/Pansy
SUMMARY: Relationship sketch. A drabble-and-three-fourths.
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just playing with them.
A/N: Dedicated to Leibling, for introducing me to D/P.
x
x
x
They whisper vicious nothings in each other's ears: curses and hexes and insults, delivered with good humor and grace.
He is not a gentleman. He does not open doors for her, he does not kiss her goodnight. He only compliments her when she asks him to, and then it's a joke, all coy glances and winks. And she is not a lady, if only for the simple fact that it's not worth it anymore.
She's not silly enough to call it love, and he's not callous enough to call it nothing.
It's a game, bruised and battered. Rules only faintly remembered, things like 'no exclusivity' and 'not on the Quidditch pitch, it stains my robes'.
x
There's a staccato rhythm to them, a stop-and-start beat with half-realized melodies, and a hook, silent but always there:
*I won't beg and you won't crawl
Don't you dare catch me when I fall*
He leans in her general direction with haloed eyes and a lazy smile, fingers crooked at her: Come here, come here. Come out and play.
x
x
x end x
AUTHOR: Aviatrix
PAIRING: Draco/Pansy
SUMMARY: Relationship sketch. A drabble-and-three-fourths.
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just playing with them.
A/N: Dedicated to Leibling, for introducing me to D/P.
x
x
x
They whisper vicious nothings in each other's ears: curses and hexes and insults, delivered with good humor and grace.
He is not a gentleman. He does not open doors for her, he does not kiss her goodnight. He only compliments her when she asks him to, and then it's a joke, all coy glances and winks. And she is not a lady, if only for the simple fact that it's not worth it anymore.
She's not silly enough to call it love, and he's not callous enough to call it nothing.
It's a game, bruised and battered. Rules only faintly remembered, things like 'no exclusivity' and 'not on the Quidditch pitch, it stains my robes'.
x
There's a staccato rhythm to them, a stop-and-start beat with half-realized melodies, and a hook, silent but always there:
*I won't beg and you won't crawl
Don't you dare catch me when I fall*
He leans in her general direction with haloed eyes and a lazy smile, fingers crooked at her: Come here, come here. Come out and play.
x
x
x end x