I'm hoping at the gates, they'll tell me you're mine.

- Born to Die, Lana Del Rey

When she first saw Draco Malfoy, Pansy had gravitated towards him. They had the same aura of dominance and power, the tendency to hurl out insults, with or without the intention to hurt, and a shared indifference. They huddled together in the common room and in the Great Hall, doing their homework together. Malfoy would be scathing as usual while pointing out all the needed corrections on Zabini's essay as the latter rolled his eyes; Pansy would giggle beside them, and as she did so, she noticed Draco's smirk slowly growing into a smile.

Maybe, it was then that she was captivated. Maybe, it was then that she was willing to do anything to make that smile come back and replace his usual scowl. She'd crack jokes. She'd take on the most twisted of dares and tell him the most preposterous of stories and watch him nearly sob with laughter. She would feel the same jump in her chest whenever his features relaxed into a smile, no matter how small. She'd feel the same nervousness whenever he would mutter his thanks, before sitting close to her.

It became harder as they grew older. It became harder when the Dark Lord came back. He was always sickly pale, harried and secretive. She studied the bags under his eyes and the wrinkles on his usually pristine robes. He would freeze at her slightest touch and close his eyes. He would murmur an incoherent apology, or turn his back and walk away.

She imagined what they had was love - or the closest to it that both of them would ever know. She imagined he was as captivated by her as she was with him. She dreamed that he, too, thought about kissing her in Hogsmeade in the snow. She liked to think that when he paused before turning away from her, he was thinking of opening up, while she begged silently, Tell me anything. Please. I'll listen.

But she was Pansy Parkinson. She didn't want, love nor care. Whenever he turned away from her, she put her nose up in the air and walked out.

"...leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

"But Potter's there!" she shrieked, her eyes landing on Draco's wide eyes as she stood. "He's right there!"

The rest of the Houses stood and faced her, but their numbers blurred in Pansy's eyes. McGonagall's voice echoed, but none of the words reached her ears. Her classmates stood up and broke into a run. She was swallowed by the crowd, searching for a trace of platinum blond hair.

It could be the last time she would ever see him.

Choose your last words, this is the last time.

A/N: All chapters are entries to HPFC's Album Drabble Challenge. The album I picked was Lana Del Rey's Born to Die.