Title: Just as She Imagined
Rating: PG/K+
Pairings: Pansy, D/Hr
Warnings: Angst
Summary: A debt should always be honored. In the wizarding world, to leave a debt unpaid has harsh, and sometimes deadly, consequences.
Disclaimer: The characters contained in this fanfiction are the sole property of J.K. Rowling, her publishers, their publishing houses, and the fine studio of Warner Bros. and subsidiaries. I will in no way sell or reproduce this story for profit. In no way will any funds be made from the writing of this work.
To say that she was pleasantly surprised was an understatement. However, as Pansy Parkinson thought about it, the letter made perfect sense. Short and sweet, the post simply requested her presence at Malfoy Manor the third day of December. Pansy, of course, could not have been happier as the day approached and in her mind began to imagine all possible reasons for the invitation.
The most possible reason, to Pansy's way of thinking, must of course had been that Draco Malfoy had come to his senses. That was the only explanation, and Pansy had giddily informed her mother of her supposition. Mrs. Parkinson had been delighted as well, and in turn both mother and daughter immediately, but discreetly, Flooed a wedding planner and caterers for informal consultations.
Pansy knew that she was probably getting ahead of herself, but there wasn't anything else she could think of that would have Draco asking her to the manor, other than the fact he was finally going to rid himself of his greatest mistake. Hermione Granger-Malfoy was most certainly on her way to being packed and shipped away from the manor, and Pansy was all too happy to take her place. Draco would probably profusely apologize, offer her numerous trinkets with contrition, and she would oh so humbly accept his offer and become his wife in the Mudblood's stead. It was all worked out in her head.
Upon entering the manor, the front foyer immediately caught her attention. All of the paintings were removed, and in their place were long, colorful, and intricately woven tapestries detailing the Malfoy, and disgustingly enough, the Granger families. Steeped in deep hues of blues, greens, gold, and reds, the tapestries covered all four walls. Narcissa Malfoy would have simply gone spare to see how the Mudblood had sullied her home. This was the first thing, Pansy noted, that she would immediately change in homage to Draco's dead parents. It was the least she could do, she told herself.
When a rather chipper looking house elf appeared and offered to take her robes, Pansy sneered at the creature and handed it her burgundy garment, snapping and warning the elf that it would be properly punished if they were ruined in any way. Merely shrugging its shoulders, the elf disappeared, and Pansy's four hundred galleon robes with it. Sniffing at the spot where the elf had stood with disdain, Pansy continued on into the parlor. She knew the manor well, having spent summers there with her parents, and it was almost like coming home. It was her home after all, as she had been betrothed to Draco at a young age. It was about time he had remembered that particular arrangement.
Lucius Malfoy had always been fond of Pansy, or so she thought. He'd never found anything to say against her and had seemed pleased with the fact she would one day be his daughter-in-law. Oh how he would seethe and be utterly disappointed if he knew that Draco had turned his back on everything the Malfoy family had stood for in the past centuries. Pansy was again very glad that Draco was setting things right now. His father deserved to rest in peace, and knowing that a Pureblood was the next Madame Malfoy was one step in that direction.
The parlor doors opened and Pansy stepped inside, smiling almost whimsically at the large fireplace blazing in the corner. She had dreamed so many times of lounging on cold winter days in front of a warm fire, curled up with Draco, and watching the snow falling quietly outside. In fact the same Oriental rug was still laying before the fireplace, its green and gold colors shining brightly against the glow of the fire. At that particular moment, Pansy allowed herself a contented sigh and smiled triumphantly. At last, she was certain, this would all be hers.
"I'm pleased you chose to come," Draco said, and Pansy turned to see him standing beside a very large, and ornately decorated and cushioned, Louis XIV chair. Her smile immediately faltered as she saw who was sitting in the magnificent chair, the witch Pansy was determined to replace, Hermione.
"Of course, I wouldn't refuse an invitation," Pansy said and was unable to hide her fury at finding Granger sitting so primly and smugly in her parlor.
Granger did not look much different since Pansy had seen her picture in the Prophet. Her hair was a bit more tamed but still a mousy shade of brown. Her eyes were sparkling though, their boring, muddy depths watching her avidly, almost like a bird of prey. She wasn't strikingly beautiful. In fact, Pansy thought her to be rather ugly and still remembered the bucktoothed, frizzy headed little girl who had been her fellow student. How Draco could have sunk so low, Pansy would never understand. The Mudblood was probably proficient in the bedroom, but she doubted her experience came from anything but books, the prudish little swot.
Draco, however, was as Pansy would always remember him; tall, his shoulders broader, his muscles defined, and his platinum hair and grey eyes still as beautiful to her as they were the first moment she had decided she loved him. Again she questioned the match before her and wondered at his sanity. Such a homely little thing should never have been allowed to grace this manor. The marble floors, priceless vases, and exquisite architecture were wasted on the likes of a Mudblood.
Something though wasn't right, and Pansy's guard immediately went up. The old defenses fell into place that she had erected since Draco told her of his intentions to pursue the former Gryffindor know-it-all. Something told her to be wary. Something told her that she wasn't as secure in having her dreams realized as she had thought.
"Well, I'm sure you're curious as to why we asked you here today?" Draco inquired, still standing to the side of the sitting Hermione, making no move to come and welcome Pansy in any other way.
Pansy's mind began to wildly process the meaning of that single word she'd heard Draco utter, we. By stating that he and Hermione had invited her, he was presenting a united front, and that small niggling doubt crept even further into Pansy's heart. Instead of showing any sign of surprise or discomfort, Pansy put on a fake smile and hastily made an excuse for the scene before her.
More than likely Draco was going to humiliate the Mudblood by admitting to his feelings for Pansy. Then she would run from them, crying, broken, and Pansy would take her rightful place in the Malfoy family. Yes, that was it. Draco had something very sinister in mind for the Granger cow, and instantly, Pansy's confidence returned as she bolstered herself with that fantasy.
"Well, your letter was rather short and left much to the imagination," Pansy answered truthfully. Her imagination had run wild, and she couldn't wait to see how many of her theories were true.
"I'm going to be blunt here, Pansy, and I think you'll understand why," Draco began, placing a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder, who in turn drew a hand over his own. They shared a brief glance with one another, and then Draco was giving Pansy his attention again.
"Of course, when were you anything but," Pansy said eagerly. Oh, he was playing this to the hilt and she was getting more and more gleeful by the second.
"Your father attacked my wife, as you know, several days before Potter finally ended the Second War," Draco said, his eyes taking on an even icier appearance. If Pansy hadn't known that he was hopelessly in love with her then she would have been afraid.
"Yes, well, there were extenuating circumstances," Pansy explained, not caring that Hermione flinched and her eye narrowed dangerously. Actually, with her cheeks flushed and her body rigid she was somewhat fierce looking, almost attractive in an earthy, fiery sort of way, Pansy supposed.
"I'm not here to debate your father's motives," Draco interrupted before Pansy could say more. There was a muscle jerking in his left cheek, and Pansy wondered if Granger's presence angered him so much why was he dragging out her dismissal?
"That is in the past," Pansy agreed softly, wringing her hands in anticipation, pretending that it was Granger's neck. When had her neck gotten so long and her skin soft and golden?
"Yes, but the effects of that curse are still being felt today," Draco stated harshly. "You are aware, Pansy, that more times than not the curse leaves a witch incapable of carrying a child."
Oh, this was too much to hope for! Pansy's eyes brightened, her lips curved into a smile, and she couldn't keep the laugh that bubbled up inside of her silent. Quickly covering her mouth with the back of her hand when she saw the threatening look in Draco's eyes and Granger reaching into her voluminous robes for her wand, Pansy cleared her throat and waited for Draco to continue.
"I'm glad you find this so amusing," Hermione snapped but remained seated. Pansy allowed her the remark; it wouldn't be long now. Draco couldn't possibly remain with her when she was barren. The Malfoy line must continue, and it would. Pansy could already picture herself wearing the same gold robes that Granger now wore, her belly swollen, and Draco watching her with adoration as they thought of names and…
"Pansy," Draco barked at her, finally gaining her attention.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Pansy apologized lightly, her mind still lost in a dreamy haze.
"You also remember that I saved your life that same day," Draco recalled, and there was an odd look of disgust upon his face. His beautifully shaped lips were twisted into a sneer and he wasn't as attractive that way.
"You know I do, and I've always been grateful, will always be grateful," Pansy assured him quietly.
"You owe me a debt," Draco said coldly, evenly. "You owe me, and you owe Hermione for your father's act against her."
Pansy's body went rigid. No, she thought and then she said it out loud. Both Hermione and Draco watched her and peered at her curiously. This wasn't happening, she wasn't hearing him correctly.
"Your life is mine, Pansy, and you owe me a Wizard's Debt. I expect to collect it now," Draco finally got to the heart of the matter.
"What are you going to do?" Pansy asked and was thankful her voice didn't shake. There was a lump lodging in her throat, and she wondered if she'd have the fortitude to make her way from the manor before screaming herself raw. Nothing was going the way she had envisioned it. Nothing.
"Hermione's womb is scarred. She can't carry a child, but she is still perfectly capable of producing viable eggs," Draco seamlessly offered the explanation as though they were discussing the weather. "There is a procedure that will ensure the child is biologically both mine and my wife's, however, we need a witch to carry the child to term."
Pansy's breath left her in a loud gasp of defeat. This wasn't happening. She wasn't hearing what Draco was saying. She must be dreaming, because it was all planned, all of it. Her mother was meeting with Madame Malkin this afternoon concerning wedding robes, and tomorrow they had another appointment with Florean Fortescue about desserts and possibly sculptures of ice. "Draco," Pansy said weakly, timidly.
"You'll be well taken care of," Draco informed her, beginning to pace in front of the fireplace. "You'll have your own wing, we'll expect you to keep to yourself and out from under foot, and you will take excellent care of yourself during the pregnancy. I won't have you throwing yourself down stairs or refusing to eat. If I have to I can, and will, lock you in your room and charm it accordingly."
"You can't be serious!" Pansy screeched all decorum forgotten. "I can't, I won't breed some half-blooded brat so you can coddle your little Mudblood!"
Pansy had never seen Draco move so fast, except on a broom, and she suddenly found herself pushed against an adjoining wall, his wand pressed to her throat. "Oh, but Pansy, I do think you will," Draco purred without trying to hide the malice in his voice. "You owe us Pansy, so much, and you're going to repay your debt."
"I refuse," Pansy snapped out, feeling much more brave than she should have. "Let Potter's pauper bitch breed for you, or that blonde and bubbly twit Lovegood"
"Oh we thought of that," Draco admitted. "However, I know how this will effect you, how it will drive you mad to have to comply with our wishes."
"I refuse!" Pansy reiterated and actually stomped her foot.
"Do you really?" Hermione asked from her chair, crossing her legs and tilting her head to the side.
"Yes!" Pansy shouted. "I refuse to carry your child. I refuse to sully myself to such a degree that…" Pansy suddenly fell silent.
She could feel it traveling down her spine and setting her nerve endings on fire. Her refusal was fueling the ancient magic against her. Wizarding Debts were always paid, or those who did not faced death or eventually wished for it. Pansy knew she couldn't fight something as powerful as this, nor could she carry out Draco's wishes. Tear pricked her eyes and fell unchecked down her cheeks. "Please, Draco. You know it would kill my mother. You know she doesn't have…."
"The debt Parkinson!" Draco said angrily, his wand pressing even more snuggly against her throat. "I need to carry on the Malfoy name, Hermione desperately wants a child, and then there's you; the witch who can make all of those dreams come true. You'll agree because you can do nothing but."
The word no was on the tip of her tongue, but the magic, that old, dark magic, ignited within her again, and the word died before she could even begin to utter it. Giving into her sobs, Pansy fell to the floor and curled up with her knees under her chin and her shoulders shaking.
"You can't be this cruel," Pansy reasoned, but deep in her heart, her shattered, bleeding heart, she knew that Draco was that cruel. He always had been. He wasn't misunderstood, or looking for someone to bring out his softer sides. He was truly ruthless and spoiled, and she was only seeing this now, only now feeling what it was like to be on the other end of his wrath.
"Your father was cruel when he took Hermione's choices for motherhood away, and you were cruel to come here and assume it was for any reason other than to humiliate you," Draco said knowingly so that Pansy looked up into his triumphant eyes. The bastard had read her mind and knew all of her romantic and fanciful secrets. It was more than she could bear.
"There has to be another way to repay you," Pansy pleaded. "There's got to be something else…"
"A child Parkinson," Draco reiterated. "Then, and only then, will I consider your debt to the Malfoy family paid in full."
Turning a miserable gaze upon Hermione, Pansy finally saw that her fate was sealed. The witch stood and came to her husband's side, took his arm in her hand, and shook her head. "She understands, Draco. There's no need to push her further. I'll go and have Tatters show her to her chambers."
Slowly, Draco lowered his wand, his eyes still frigid, and his jaw clenched. "If I didn't need you for this I'd kill you for what you've done," Draco snarled at her.
Pansy said nothing, but cried harder, her wails echoing in the large space of the parlor. Her last defeat, her last disgrace was complete. He knew; there was no other explanation for his behavior.
"You begged your father to kill her didn't you?" Draco said menacingly. "You begged him to make her disappear, because in that twisted, delusional mind of yours you thought that would automatically assure you a place as a Malfoy, didn't you?"
Again, Pansy remained silent. There wasn't any way she could defend herself. It was all true, and she wasn't sorry for it, not really. If Granger had died then she would have comforted Draco, and he would have realized it had been her, Pansy, all along. If only it had worked. If only Granger hadn't survived.
"You were my friend Pansy!" Draco shouted at her now. "You were my oldest friend, whom I assumed was supportive and would never betray me. You knew what it would do to me to lose her! YOU KNEW IT!"
"I hate her!" Pansy sobbed brokenly. "I'll always hate her! She has what is mine. She doesn't belong here. Your parents, Draco, your parents would be ashamed, they'd be heartbroken," Pansy continued stammering and chocking on her words. "Your mother, oh Merlin your mother. She'd never understand what you've done."
"My mother knew enough at the end to understand that my father and Voldemort were both insane, and she suffered for it Pansy. She suffered because of my father and me. How could I not avenge her death by helping Potter destroy the very thing that destroyed her?" Draco asked incredulously. "Don't ever speak of her again. EVER!"
"I'll kill myself," Pansy threatened. "I swear to Nimue I will!"
"You can try. You'll fail," Hermione said quietly behind Draco. Pansy immediately sobered and an icy feeling of defeat, betrayal, and then utter emptiness washed over her. Granger had heard everything; Draco's defense of her and his insistence that he couldn't bear to lose her. She had also heard Pansy's rambling, and that in itself had Pansy wondering when the tables had turned so dramatically. When had it become proper for a Mudblood to witness the downfall of a Pureblood, a witch who held centuries of old blood in veins and would always be superior to her?
"I'll go to the Ministry," Pansy said, but not convincingly. "They'll have passed a law or something preventing such barbaric treatment."
"Even the Ministry hasn't found any ways of circumventing old magic like a Wizard's Debt, Pansy," Hermione informed her in that very dramatic and prissy tone. "Now, Tatters will bring you some lunch in a little while. You look rather tired, and we want you to get some rest. Tomorrow we'll go to St. Mungo's for the procedure, and we want to make sure you're ready and healthy enough to start the pregnancy."
"You filthy, Mudblood, slag!" Pansy screeched in one last effort to find some of the ground she'd lost. "I won't go through with it. I WON'T!"
Hermione rushed forward as the magic surged through Pansy's body again, the pain of it doubling the other witch over. "Pansy, you're only hurting yourself. It's only nine months, and you truly owe us a life for the one your father tried to take and all of the others we might have made."
Pansy felt dead inside. Granger was talking so soothingly that she wanted to rip her throat open, bare her vocal cords, and slash them so she'd never have to hear that haughty, pretentious, tone again. Instead she shook Granger's hand from her shoulder and stood. As dignified as she could manage, Pansy walked from the parlor, following the mitten and jumper-wearing elf.
As she was lead to her chambers, the farthest side of the west wing to ensure Draco and Granger their privacy, Pansy relived all of her dreams and wishes. In the corner of the ballroom she could picture herself welcoming guests for another Malfoy holiday ball. Her children would be scattered about, animatedly talking with friends, and then she would catch Draco's eyes and he would smile. The smile meant only for her.
When they reached the stairs she pictured herself and Draco sliding down the banisters as they had done so many times before. They had been active children and they hadn't heeded their parents when they were told it was uncouth and not befitting aristocrats to behave so commonly. In that instant she could also see their children doing the same thing, a small boy with platinum hair and a little girl with dark wavy curls, giggling and sliding down the railing, ending up in a heap on the floor at the foot of the stairs.
Finally she reached her bedroom, and Tatters ushered her inside. The bed wasn't common, but it also wasn't the one she had pictured she would share with Draco when he brought her home. It was all pinks and silvers, almost nauseatingly pink. There was a vanity and dresser, chest of drawers, a small table and chair, and then a box seated window. It was a room that perhaps she would imagine a governess would have been set up in.
When she was left alone, Pansy hurriedly discovered the door that lead to the loo and vomited until there was nothing left in her stomach. Afterward, she hugged herself and walked to the bed, weariness winning out after all. Crawling beneath the sheets she curled into a tight ball and closed her eyes, swollen and aching from her earlier crying.
She could almost make out footsteps and then she wasn't in her common bedroom at all, but the master bedroom waiting for Draco on their wedding night. She was dressed in a sheer slip, slit up each side, and of course had opted for no knickers. She heard him enter and he smiled, that smile. He crossed to her wearing only his black pajama bottoms, which she removed eagerly when he was before her. Very gently he pressed her back into the softness of the bed, and Pansy could smell the expensive Italian cologne upon his skin. His arms around her, his smell wafting through the air, and the feel of his body covering her own was as she'd always imagined. When he began to push the straps of her slip from her shoulders, Pansy sighed. She smiled dreamily and felt at home. She always knew Draco would bring her home to the manor if she had just been patient enough, and now she was going to have his child. Everything would be just as she imagined. Everything…