Title: Simple Epitaphs

Author: Miss Anthrope

Disclaimer: Characters used belong to JK Rowling; the dialogue and other information not taken from her books are proudly mine. The song, sadly, is again not mine but is the property of Taking Back Sunday, the band fronted by the very sexy Adam Lazzara.

Rating:

Warning(s): None yet, so far.

Author's Notes: As always, I was inspired by the lyrics of a song, in this case, New American Classic. Definitely shorter than what I usually post, but there definitely is more intensity in the chapters I will post.

Dedication(s): To those members of the S.S. Snitch and Bitch in who are equally, if not more, obsessed with this pairing as I am.

Summary: One has fled, the other left in the midst of the Second War to pick up the pieces. This is the secret correspondence of Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy from that fateful night in Hogwarts.

We've got to get better, said it's all in your head

We could live through these letters

Or forget it all together

See, the months they don't matter

It's the days I can't take

When the hours move to minutes and I'm seconds away

…I want to remember

When I know that I can't go back…

-- Excerpts from New American Classic by Taking Back Sunday

The old oaken door creaked heavily even as it was gently pushed aside, the time worn wood hanging by its last spells to the iron hinges. A pale head peeked in through the newly opened entrance and for a second stopped as though waiting for some response. One, two, and three seconds ticked by and still the room was just as quiet as it had been before.

Slowly moving to the centered bed, she quietly moved to pull back the hangings but hesitated, her hand lingering lightly above the thick layer of cloth and betraying her silent apprehension she dared not speak. The girl breathed in softly as she exhaled resolutely and quickly pushed away the flimsy barrier only to find that she had never been more right. Lowering herself softly against the immaculately prepared sheets, she mutely pulled herself under the covers and slowly took in the familiar scent that seemed to somehow bring to life the logical part of her mind.

'Maybe he's just off patrolling the halls with Crabbe and Goyle', she thought wordlessly and grabbing the duvet closer to her. 'Just trying to catch Potter and some poor Hufflepuff lost in the halls.'

The ideas began flowing easily and soon her heart had returned to its normal rate with a small smile in place. Soon enough, her head once again began whirling with hazy images of sunsets and the illuminated corner in the room all laced with the diluted aroma of peppermint and the ocean breeze. Sleep was drawing nearer with each flutter of her eyes until at last them came to close completely, her body instantly turning to her side and fingers sprawled on the pillows when her hand caught something cool on the cotton. A frown etched itself lightly on her forehead as she ran her fingertips on the smooth surface that could only belong to a piece of parchment.

The spindly cursive instantly caught her eye, however, and soon she was sitting on the bed staring at the foreign object. Her name was written in the same clear and columnar fashion she had known only him to use though this time, she observed rather unconsciously, that the script had been more italicized as if the writer had been in an extreme hurry. Carefully opening up the letter, she mindlessly moved herself closer to the window to better see the simple one paragraph message.

Dear Pansy,

I do not know how to break this to you easily since I have not the time to think even my own thoughts through; there is so little time and so much to say. I know that I have informed you only a few hours ago about my mission for the Dark Lord and how it was supposed to be carried out still a month from now. Believe me when I say that I was and still am as surprised as you are now when I found out that the event has been moved to tonight. If you find this before two o'clock, I ask only that you do not look for me and stay in the room until daybreak when it's safe. However, if you get this at a later time perhaps from Crabbe or Goyle, know that I have already fled, to where I do not know. I'll try to keep in touch as much as I possibly can given the circumstances. I must warn you now, however, not to respond for we both know how dangerous it can be.

Take care of yourself and I will try to write soon.

Yours always,

Draco

From the very first line, Pansy already felt her stomach twisting itself into a knot and by the time she had finished off the last farewell, her body was shaking from the effort of pacifying the sobs that remained suppressed in her throat. She gazed at the charmed chronometer on the edge of a table and saw that it was only half past two. A part of Pansy wanted to run down the corridors and out of the school in an attempt to catch up with the fleeing Draco, but the more dominant and logical side kept her rooted at the spot. Anger, feelings of loss, and most importantly fear for him clouded her mind as it processed everything.

Still without uttering so much as a syllable, Pansy quietly padded her way back to the empty bed she had just left and tucked herself between the sheets. Pulling up the heavy quilt until her chin, she adjusted herself carefully against the impeccably white pillows before going back to a dreamless sleep, a letter in one hand and with the scent of a lost friend wafting in the air.