Wallflower

'Are you reading that book again?'

I looked up at him from my position on the common-room sofa.

'Evidently.'

The blonde figure standing a few feet away from me rolled its eyes. So I'd given an annoying answer- what did he expect, asking such inane questions?

'I'd compare you to Granger, but I think she reads different books.'

'Is that so?'

'Yes. I can't pretend to understand the mind of such a low creature, but I'd venture that this habit stems from a desire to learn new things.'

Oh, very clever. Clearly someone had been brushing up on their vocabulary, just as his father had instructed.

'How very droll. Do you plan on saying something, or are you just going to stand there and annoy me all day?'

'Again, Pansy?'

'Draco darling, we had this conversation yesterday.'

'Hence the emphasis on the word again.'

'Not again, darling, but still.'

'What do you see in it, honestly?'

I- what did I see in it. I liked the characters, liked reliving their odd twisted little existences with them. The neat way that things fell into place, like discordant notes forming a harmony.

'I think it's sweet.'

He rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed next to me. I was lying down, so I couldn't move out of the way. I'll admit, though, his arm around my shoulders was not the most unwelcome presence.

'Sweet? Pansy, dearest, don't let anyone hear you say that. It'll rather shatter the glacial demeanour you've spent so long curating.'

Glacial. How very. I guess that sums it up.

Ice Queen. A nickname and a reputation. To the lesser houses I am known more often as Queen Bitch. A muggle reference, apparently.

Still. Glacial.

I was very aware of the soft warmth of the arm draped casually over me, and my cold stiffness next to it. It's not that I don't like or want it exactly, it's just that I'm never sure how to respond to it. Touch, that is. My parents were never really the hugging type, and at school I was too afraid of becoming vulnerable to ever really learn.

'Pansy, darling? Talk to me. I shall think you've fallen asleep.'

The mock formality is something that built up between us. The strict stratification of wizarding society means that we in the upper class seem to inhabit a different time period from the rest of our world. For years, until we reached Hogwarts, Draco and I thought that strict formality and victorian manners part of everyone's upbringing and expected behaviour. When we got to Hogwarts and met people our age outside of the tight social circle we'd grown up it, it emerged that this wasn't the case. I'd wanted to be like the others- learn to interact in a way that was genuine and friendly, but it was too difficult to break out of old habits and fears. Instead, we've settled on this parody of affection where the old words have new meanings, and nothing is ever quite as simple as it should be.

'I'm awake. In case you hadn't noticed, I was reading happily before you came in.'

When he laughed, I could feel the movement of his chest against my back. His voice was softer, now.

'Ice Queen.'

Gentle, almost.

If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that this was a normal situation, and I was just a normal girl on a bed with her boyfriend. I blushed at the word 'bed' in this context. Just... a girl. With her boyfriend.

'Of course.'

I felt the arm withdraw from around me and wanted to wince at the loss of warmth and contact.

'Wouldn't want to torment you with human contact for too long, would I? You might melt.'

It's so easy to fool people into thinking that you're not human. Play into a role, adopt all the little mannerisms, and you're the perfect picture of disconnect. Even he thought that I was this sexless, heartless creature I pretended to be.

If you never make yourself vulnerable, you can't be hurt.

If you never make yourself vulnerable, you can't really be happy, either.