The Symptoms
A/N Hello all, this is my first Draco Pansy fic or serious Harry Potter fic so do be gently with the criticism. Part from that, read and review!
The Slytherin Common Room was quiet, the air cold, the stone floor freezing but one could distinguish the forms of two figures who sat curled by the fire. One of them was a girl with dark mane that fell neatly to her shoulders, the other a boy with hair as light as the palest white. They sat there contemplating the flames, neither touching or apart.
"Draco?" The silence was broken by the girl, whose face could be perceived as she turned to look at her counterpart. Her eyes were the color of brandy and the most distinguishing feature of her face was her nose, upturned at the tip.
"Draco, what is love?" The question was followed by a faint blush and the girl seemed to want to recant her question.
The boy looked at her in surprise. His eyes were gray and piercing, as cold as winter and seemed to reflect his personality. His lips which were usually curled into a sneer seemed remarkably lax and dispirited. Draco, for that was the boy's name, seemed pensive.
"You're asking what love is, Parkinson?" The light haired boy's voice was tinted with a saccharine drawl that hinted at an intimate knowledge or sarcasm and derision. The girl truly blushed now and seemed to fluster. Her cool façade turned returned to that of the girl she was: a young woman in the mists of what she understood not.
"I know its silly Draco, and I know you probably wouldn't want to lower yourself to, to talk to me about something of the like but I'm afraid I simply must know! I- I've tried to find out by myself but, but I can't find the proper answer. So…so I wanted to ask you…do please explain." The boy just looked at her impassively through out her ramblings though his eyes hinted to an inner amusement and a subtle discomfort as to where there conversation was heading.
"I've only truly talked to Blaise about this before, Pansy. No one else," he told her in an aloof tone.
"Oh… oh, right. Well, then –right- I understand completely that you're not willing to share with me. I just needed to understand, you see. I- I needed to know the symptoms… anything really." At this, Pansy, who's last name we can only assume is Parkinson, hugged her knees to herself as if only suddenly feeling the cold breeze that filled the dungeons.
"It's not that I'm ashamed, Pansy. And you know I love you…" but before he couldn't finish his phrase the girl snorted.
"No, you don't. And I don't mean that kind of love, Draco. I- I need to know about that… other stuff. Romance and so on. But I understand, you don't feel willing to express your opinion on that matter to me…" She looked distinctly uncomfortable. Her fingers were hitting a practiced pattern on her knees and she seemed ready to up and flee at a moment's notice.
Draco regarded her for a while, his gaze seemingly seeing through her and cutting through her flesh and into her soul. After a minutes pause, he turned away from her and visibly tensed before talking. "I believe in love."
Pansy looked shocked that he was mentioning even that and by the fact that Draco, a Malfoy -for it was clear to all those who saw him that from his physical features and attitude that he could only be a descendant of the most pure and dark house of Malfoy- believed in such a weakness as love.
"What… how do you know if you're in love?" Pansy whispered as though unwilling to break this newfound closeness and intimacy that seemed to have settled between the two of them. She refused to scare away this potential source of information.
"Well, I guess it's when you can't stop thinking about a person. You lie awake and can't get her out of your mind. Or I suppose in your case 'him'. And when you're far from that person you imagine her face to be perfect and even though you realize it isn't when you see her again it doesn't matter because she's the most singularly wonderful individual in your life. Thinking of her makes you smile and there are times where you just want to laugh… to me, that's love. It's not having fantasies, Pansy, that's fucking and to me that isn't love. To- to love someone, it's to want to hold them in your arms and just kiss them tenderly, not dirty thoughts playing through your mind."
And with those last few words, the Malfoy heir turned his eyes to the flames that were slowly dying in the fireplace.
The brunette sat still, the expressions playing on her face during his speech finally ending with a mix of fright and admiration. When the intensity of this proximity had finally dimmed, she smiled softly. "The girl who lands you one day will be lucky. Honestly." And then an expression flitted through her eyes too quickly to be analyzed and the blond boy never even knew it was there. He just smirked and finally raised an eyebrow at the Parkinson girl. "Of course she'll be lucky, I'm a Malfoy." And with those last words, Draco stood up from where he had been sitting, and set for his dorm room, with no parting words or ceremonies.
The young woman sat still, watching him go with the same soft smile on her lips and was tempted to say something but decided that the moment was to remain peaceful. Her eyes held a depth to them that had been missing prior to the conversation and as she finally turned her gaze and looked into the dying embers of the fire, a tear slid down her cheek.
"I was afraid that was love. You've ruined me Draco Malfoy." And with those softly whispered words that could be mistaken as a figment of one's imagination, Pansy gracefully got up to her feet, folded the blanket on which the two Slytherins had been sitting and headed up for her own dorm. Feet trading lightly on the freezing floor.