What we could have been
Disclaimer: I don't own J. K. Rowling's characters.
Pansy looks at him with her lost eyes and the firewhisky cup in her hand. Maybe she is a little drunk. Doesn't matters. He looks at her with his grey and impenetrable eyes and moves his cup to make a silent brindis. The two cups collide and she whispers "Cheers!" in his ear.
"Did you remember, Draco? What could we have been?"
He tenses for a moment, but, like always, doesn't let Pansy sees weakness on him. No-one can know the most darkness secrets he have, not even Pansy.
"I'm getting married in two weeks, Parkinson"
She laughes, and her laughter sounds skepticism, a little bit of nothing. She looks at him like she doesn't know Draco, like in that precise moment she discovers all the things that Draco Malfoy involves. I don´t know you now, she thinks, but she says nothing.
"¿Parkinson?", she asks. "You used to call me Pansy." She gets closer to him, dangerously; let he smells the perfume she uses. Heavy. Strong. Draco tenses again, and that time she was able to see the weakness on his rival.
"You don't know me", he says, drinking firewhisky, "you don't know me now", he repeats.
She shrugs her shoulders.
"That is now, Draco". She gets more and more closer to him, while she asks herself what Astoria Greengrass would think if she sees that picture. "But… you remember? There was a time I knew you very well…" She cuddles his cheek with her little hands. I miss that…, she thinks. But she doesn't say anything. No. She is a Slytherin, she is a snake, she is proudful. A snake hides hers weakness, although with fifteen years she hasn't knew how. He cheated on her, and she didn't say anything. But that is past.
"I don't choose this, Pansy—" he whispers. "You start to go out with Blaise."
She laughes, again; and then she smile in a crafty way.
"He gave what I needed in that moment, Draco", she says, directly on his ear, cuddle him with her lips. "He didn't humiliate me— But now, nobody is going to humiliate me again."
Not even you, she thinks, admiring his aristocrat factions, his blonde hair, the grey and cold eyes that looks everything calculatingly. And… I still miss you, jerk.
"Why Zabini?", asks he, finally.
"Are you jelaous?", replies she with coolness. "Why Zabini? Is that matters now, before so many years?" She laughes, again. That laughter makes Draco's skin crawls.
He don't answer her. He isn't able to tell what his feeling are. The smell of Pansy confuses him. She looks at him, another time. She losts herself on the bend of his neck, on his cheekbones, and the hair in his face.
"Did you love me?" asks her, diverting her eyes. She took a cigarette from her purse and light it.
"Why you ask me that?" He is confuse. Very confuse. "The smoke smells terrible".
She shrugs her shoulders.
"I learn to smoke with Zabini", whispers she. "Sometimes—", she interrupts herself. Sometimes I cried for you, fool. Zabini hates that. So… he teach me how to smoke. To relax myself.
Draco notices Pansy's hesitates.
"Sometimes, what?"
"Nothing", she answers.
"What, Pansy, sometimes, what?", he insists.
"Sometimes I cried, jerk, sometimes I remembered you!"
He stays in silet, a little bit surprised. He expects that answer, yes, even though he doesn't know if he is ready to listen that words, Pansy's words. He move his head in order to look to another place and not to her. Not to look at cold eyes.
"Why did you invite me here?" he asks.
"Because I wanted"
"You wanted?"
"Yeah, Draco, exactly." She get closer to him, again. He feels how Pansy's hands touches her neck. He tenses…, but, he don't say a word. "Women like me… always do whatever they want, haven't you ever heard that?"
He doesn't answes.
"I want to see if you missed me", she says.
"I'm getting married, Pansy, in two weeks", he repeats.
"Really?", she asks, naively
"Pansy—", warns he, with a dangerous voice.
"Don't you miss it?", she asks. "Don't you miss the kisses? The cuddles? The conversation in the early morning, at three a. m.? The simles? Nonetheless, I think we love each other, Draco, although we were inmates, and we had fifteen years old. I thing we are in love…, on our own way. But we were not perfect, were we?", she whispers. "No..., we are jealous, impulsive…"
He didn't answer that
"We know that many times, love is the most powerful thing in the world", she says. "But we are Slytherin. Being loved is that bad? Love someone is a nad thing?"
"Pansy—"
"You still miss me, Draco. I can see that in your eyes, in you movements, even tattooed in your skin. Nonetheless, I'm a snake, Malfoy. Probably the snake that knows you the best. You don't love Astoria."
"Pansy—", he repeats, warning her. "Shut up".
She raised her eyebrows.
"Look at me, directly, look to my eyes and tell me that you don't love Astoria and I believe you, Malfoy", she provokes him. "Tell me that, damn it!"
He look at her. Directly.
"You want to know if I love Astoria, don't you? And you want to know if I miss you?" He smiles. Pansy think that smiles is dangerous. "Haven't told you, Pansy…, that the one who looks for the truth, maybe find it?"
He kisses her, finally. Violently.
Yes, you still miss me, she thinks.
When she has an intuition, she never gets wrong.
"This shouldn't happen… ever", he says.
"But you wish this, so I. What sense have being sorry now?", she asks her.
He shrugs his shoulders. He let hi slips dance on the same rythm that hers. When they finally stop, his lips cuddle Pansy's ear.
"Maybe—maybe, Parkinson, make I won't get married in two weeks."
She smiles.
She owns him, again.
She hugs him.
I love you.
She thinks. But she says nothing.
February 7, 2012 – Original
August 22, 2013 – Translate
Nea Poulain