Winter Roses
Marissaaaa
"That's an awful habit, Pans."
Pansy laughed, cold and devoid of emotion, not turning around to the voice she knew so well.
She placed her bright red lips on her cigarette again, inhaling in the nicotine deeply. She blew the smoke out with carefully pursed lips, watching the grey colored smoke drift away in the winter air. She ashed her lip stained cigarette and took another graceful drag.
"Don't call me that," she said, dark blue eyes watching the beautiful stars glitter across the night sky.
"Why?" He asked, his foot steps echoing across the hardwood floors.
His breath caught in his throat coming closer to her. Even as her face was turned away from, he could feel his heart speeding up, blood pumping through his veins, adrenaline coursing through his body, every moment more intensified and profound.
She made him feel alive.
"Because I said so, Potter," Pansy scowled, flicking her cigarette off the balcony, wishing he would go away; wishing she would go away.
"How'd you find me?" She asked dryly, already knowing the answer. Harry Potter wasn't on his way to becoming Head Auror just for shits and giggles.
He ignored her instead.
"I know you have to be freezing," Harry said finally after a few moments, standing a few feet behind her now. His emerald eyes watching her pull out another cigarette from the pack sitting on the railing.
She was completely naked on that cold February night except for the expensive black heels on her feet. Her pale skin glowing under the moonlight, shapely legs that ran for my miles, long dark hair swaying in the crisp, chilly wind.
"You don't know anything about me," She laughed once more, dry and sad. She waited for the dark haired wizard to pluck her cigarette out of her mouth like he always did, but he didn't this time.
"I don't," Harry said honestly.
'He's always so fucking honest.' Pansy thought bitterly.
"But I want to know you."
"I wish you would stop this, Harry," she hissed, too tired to raise her voice, and finally turning around to face him. Pansy rarely called him by his first name.
She stood in front of him, naked and breathtaking, blue eyes frozen in a glare, cigarette dangling from her perfect manicure nails, pretty pale pink nipples erect from the cold weather.
His too gorgeous, too hopeful, too comforting emerald green eyes admiring her like she was the only women in the world.
"I can't," He said simply, running a hand through his messy black hair.
"I've been looking for you for over two days now. I understand you like your space that's why I didn't bother you for five days, but you wouldn't write back or call and you haven't shown up for work in a week," Harry rambled on nervously, his green eyes piercing into Pansy blue eyes.
Pansy smirked, inhaling the smoke off her cigarette, and blowing it out into the night. She really did enjoy making The Boy Who Lived squirm.
Harry waved the smoke out his face, biting his lip, knowing it drove Pansy mad.
Pansy's smirk fell, flicking her cigarette away, and crossing her arms over chest.
"I don't need you meddling in my affairs, Potter. Who do you think you are, anyway? Asking questions at my office and tracking down my whereabouts. We fucked a few times. You're nothing to me. Hell, I tried to give you to Voldemort myself. I just wish you'd stay the bloody fuck away from me," Pansy sneered harshly, turning her face away, and walking forward towards the railing.
She wished everyone would leave her alone.
Harry ignored her, trying not to let her icy words bother him.
"I was worried about you. Not just me either, Malfoy and Blaise haven't heard from you in awhile. No one has."
Pansy scoffed, placing her elbows on the railing, and her chin onto her right palm. Her dark hair fell over shoulders.
Now, all of sudden, people were worried and cared about her? She wanted to punch a wall.
She always forgot Draco and Harry were Auror partners. At twenty two years of age, her entire world was nothing like she imagined her life to be at sixteen. Everything was completely upside down.
"Yeah, tell them to fuck off, too," Pansy said, reaching for her cigarettes once more.
Everyone could sod off as far she was concerned.
Harry rolled his eyes, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She shrugged his cold hand off of her.
"Don't touch me. Potter, what the fuck more do I have to say to get you to leave?" She turned around, blowing out smoke in face, knowing he hated that.
She had to give him credit when it was due. Anyone else would have already left her by now.
Harry coughed, waving his hand to clear his face. "Bloody hell, Pansy! Why do you always have to be like this?"
'Because I hate you and I hate Draco and Blaise and my disgrace of a fucking father and I hate my stupid, weak, pathetic mother for taking her own life.'
Pansy never voiced these thoughts though.
"Because I am," She spat angrily, avoiding eye contact, and turning back around. "And if you have a problem with that, by all means, leave."
Harry ignored her comments once more, taking off his coat he wore over his Auror ropes and placing it over her shoulders.
He was dressed nice in expensive black slacks and a button down white shirt. He had discarded his tie earlier that day and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.
"Just looking at you makes me cold," He said and she scoffed angrily, shrugging off his coat, letting it pool around her feet.
"Fuck you."
She wasn't cold, she wasn't anything at all. She felt numb to the core.
Harry didn't comment back, walking back into the hotel room to use the restroom, but stopping in mid stride, strolling over to Pansy's nightstand.
"Pansy, how the hell did you get ahold of muggle prescription pills?" Harry demands, scowling, snatching the two pill bottles up and walking back onto the balcony.
"Why don't you use your fancy Auror skills and find out yourself?" She asked sarcastically, flicking her cigarette off the balcony and turning around to face him.
She walked over to one of the balcony chairs and sat in it, pulling her knees to her chest, pursing her brightly red lips; anger consuming her mind.
"Fuck off, Potter! I'm not some pathetic damsel in distress. Not every one needs a bloody hero to save them," Pansy spat, glaring up at him with beautiful smokey eyes. "And I certainly don't need you."
"You know what," Harry shook his head, throwing the pill bottles at Pancy in disgust, "I'm over it. You can wither away in your sorrows and drown yourself in pills and firewhiskey for all I care."
With that, Harry Potter was gone with a snap.
Pansy could only laugh; dry and emotionless, the stinging behind her eyes almost unbearable, her heart clinching with hurt. She could feel the throbbing ache beneath her chest. The knot in her throat was hard and painful.
Everyone always left.
She was so sick and tired of people acting like they knew her... could understand her. As if they knew anything about what she was going through, what she had been through. No one knew the screams that haunted her every day, the nightmares she had to suffer every night or the uncontrollable pain she felt.
Everyone after the War picked up the pieces and carried on with their happily ever after lifes, the scars of The Second War far behind them as they moved on with their families and careers.
Pansy had a whole twenty-two years of scars to heal from.
.
.
.
As early as Pansy could remember, she was taught to be a proper lady and a perfect Pureblood daughter.
Before she even knew her numbers and letters, Pansy knew proper table mannerisms, how to walk, talk, act and breathe Pureblood. She was not allowed to cut her hair or wear trousers. She had a different dress and footwear for each meal of the day. If her family dined outside, she wore gloves and a hat. She did not talk unless spoken too, she was meek, respectful, and obedient.
Pansy started school early, at the age four, and was tutored at home like most Pureblood families did before Hogwarts. Pansy knew three different languages by the age of seven, she was skilled in tap dancing and playing the piano. She even studied magic early, but that wasn't uncommon in Pureblood families.
Unfortunately, for her father, Pansy's mother was never able to conceive again. Thus, making Pansy an only child. Her father, Clifford, and grandfather as well, was always vocal about their disapproval of her gender, angry he would never have sons to pass down the family name. She nor her mother had ever been able to live that down.
To this day, Pansy had vague memories of her father and mother in her childhood before Hogwarts. Mostly because her father was never home and when he was, he was locked away in his office, away from her mother and her. The only time of the day she did see her father was during dinner. Even then, he excused himself and left the table early for his study.
And her mother, Margaret, was the epitome of high society Pureblood. She was tall, elegant, and poise. She held weekly tea parties and attended all the Pureblood events. Her mother was beautiful in a way Pansy had always been envious of.
Margaret was someone who should have never been a mother. Someone who only became a mother because it was her obligation. She had too; motherhood was her duty as a women and something pureblood women were shunned for if they chose otherwise. This fact alone was obvious throughout Pansy's childhood. Margaret never tended to Pansy; not as a baby, toddler, or child. She told Clifford from the beginning, she would not be changing diapers, feeding, or bathing an infant and she kept to her word.
While Pansy never had a nanny, she had a loyal house elf name Lolly who had taken care of her since she was a baby.
Lolly, who was a dainty cheerful elf with huge ears and even bigger smile, had changed her diapers, nursed her back to health when she was sick, and was her shoulder to cry on as a little girl. Lolly read her bedtime stories, played with Pansy, and was Pansy's everything when she had no one else. Aside from Lolly and her school tutor, Pansy was isolated most of her childhood. She had the occasional play date with Draco or Blaise, but her father had found it too unladylike for a young girl to be hanging around boys. So that left Pansy with Lolly, who became so much more than her loyal servant. She was her bestfriend and mother figure when Pansy didn't have one.
Pansy would never tell Hermione Granger, who she remembered had started S.P.E.W during their years at Hogwarts, how strongly she agreed with the curly haired witch. How Lolly was more than just a servant, or a house elf, she was a being with feelings and a heart. Instead, she mocked and teased Hermione on the outside, jealous how openly and proudly she could share her political and personal views, and safely tucked away one of Hermione's S.P.E.W buttons in the bottom of her truck under her robes.
"Pansy?"
Pansy shook her head as to rid her intrusive thoughts, her black curls swaying slightly. "What?"
"Your turn, doll," Daphne Greengrass said, her voice silky and smooth, pointing towards the table with a pretty manicure finger at two perfect white lines.
Pansy frowned, icy blue eyes narrowed, but took the rolled up hundred bill from Daphne anyway.
It was half past ten on a cold Thursday night. Pansy had slept most of the day away in her luxurious hotel bed and owled Daphne as soon as she woke up. She didn't want to admit it, but she was craving human interaction. And Daphne would never judge her or ask stupid questions.
"I'm not even going to ask why you have American money."
Daphne giggled, waving her hand in the air. "Long story."
Pansy positioned herself, sitting on her knees, looking up at Daphne who sat across from her. "Are you sure this isn't going to make me go crazy? I've heard what these muggle street drugs can do."
"It's cocaine, Pansy, not acid," Daphne snorted, flipping her straight blonde hair over her shoulder.
Pansy didn't respond. She clogged her left nostril and snorted the white power.
She snorted deepily, trying to get all of the stuff out of her nose. The drain was almost instant, making her mouth numb and tingle. Her pupils instantly dilated and she felt aware of everything.
"Are you alright?" Daphne questioned, arching a perfect blonde eyebrow.
"Perfect," Pansy said, almost giggling. She felt amazing like she was floating on air. All her negative thoughts gone and replaced with pure bliss. Nothing seemed to even matter.
"Here we are, four years out of Hogwarts, snorting muggle drugs."
Daphne threw her head back, laughing, the sound vibrating the room. "You've always been my partner in crime."
"I know," Pansy smirked, a mischievous spark in her blue eyes, feeling more talkative than she had felt in a long time.
'Must be the drugs.' She thought.
"Remember when we charmed Malfoy and Zabini's hair pink for a week straight?" Pansy asked, watching eagerly as Daphne laid out four more perfect white lines.
"Of course! How could I not?!" Daphne exclaimed, "They only cried about it for a whole year!"
Pansy laughed once more, reaching for her cigarette pack that sat on the coffee table. Normally, she would never smoke inside, but this was her hotel room, and she felt her ambitions lower with every minute.
How could she feel so empty and alive at the same time?
"I quit my job today," Pansy said out of the blue, surprising herself even. No matter how long her and Daphne had known each other, they had never confided with one another about personal subjects or feelings. It just wasn't their thing.
"Why?" Daphne asked curiously, finishing up her line, and passing the rolled up money to Pansy.
Pansy shrugged, "I needed a change, I guess; need some time away from... well, everybody," she confessed, snorting her line with more ease the second time around.
"Oy!" Pansy exclaimed, feeling the drain from the street drug. She quickly lit a cigarette, her bright red lips inhaling and taking a nice, smooth drag.
"Want one?" She asked, offering the pack to Daphne.
"Sure," she said, giggling, taking one. She lit the cigarette with some struggle, coughing slightly.
"Amateur," Pansy smirked, rolling her blue eyes.
"Oh sorry, we can't all be professional chain smokers," Daphne mocked and Pansy flicked her off.
Daphne leaned back in her chair, her long legs dangling over the side. She inhaled her cigarette, looking very much like a pin up barbie from one of those muggle magazines with her muggle blue jeans and leather jacket.
"I'm glad you came so quickly," Pansy remarked, letting out a trail of grey smoke from bright red lips.
She had been in a depressive daze the last few days. It felt like she was floating in between conscious and unconscious. She didn't feel anything, didn't eat, or talk to anyone. Pansy had felt lifeless, cold, and numb. If everything had ended for her right then, it wouldn't matter because she didn't have the energy in herself to care anymore.
"No problem," Daphne said, ashing her pink lip stained cigarette in the ashtray Pansy offered. Daphne wanted to state the obvious, but she refrained herself.
Pansy and Daphne finished their cigarettes, Pansy walking over to her purse that sat onto of the counter, grabbing out a bottle of Firewhiskey.
The room smelled strong of expensive perfume, cigarettes, and winter. Pansy had left the balcony doors open, allowing the cold air to drift by.
"Now, we're getting started!" Daphne shouted with glee, pulling out another two white lines for the both of them.
Pansy wanted to say no, that they had done enough for the night and should stick to drinking Firewhiskey. She wanted to say so much, but she couldn't find the words to speak. Nor did she find the strength to turn down Daphne when she offered her the rolled up hundred dollar bill.
Nothing made sense to Pansy anymore.
And that's how their night went on. The pair of witches partied together until the stars disappeared and the sun rose up bright and shining. Daphne had purchased her own hotel room for the night and bid Pansy a "good morning", promising to see her later that day.
Pansy stripped off all her clothes, feeling claustrophobic. Her mind was fuzzy and dazed, hair messy, and eye make-up smudged on her face. She stumbled out of her black dress, kicking off her heels, and collapsed onto her bed.
She sprawled out onto the middle of the white sheets, naked, and her dark hair covering her pillow.
The nightmares wouldn't happen tonight thankfully. She made sure her mind was too fucked and cloudy for the horrors to torment her that night.
No matter how hard she tried to muddle her intrusive, obsessive thoughts though, it still didn't stop Pansy from wishing she would stay asleep forever and never wake up.
That thought was always lingering in the back of her mind, calling out to her from the darkness, pulling her in more and more as the days passed by.
Blissful eternal sleep is all she wanted.