It was the subtle glint in her eye that caught his attention, not quite a spark but a little more than a flicker. It was as though there was some deep desire within her, yet she held herself back. He'd always admired that and hated her for it too. It reminded Draco of himself. Stupid Pansy.
Now, fourteen years into an arranged marriage he found himself hating nearly everything to do with her. The way she paraded around town like she owned the bloody place, spending their hard earned money, at least hard earned in his opinion, here there and everywhere: Dangling earrings that made her round face look like a bauble with all the trimmings of yuletide, lipsticks that left ugly marks on his cheek when she kissed him, and worst of all the perfumes. One spritz and she left a room uninhabitable for hours. She was such a selfish woman sometimes. And that awful black fur cloak. He detested the thing.
Not like his mistress Astoria. Her hair gleamed with youthfulness; her skin glowed unlike Pansy's deathly pale complexion. Astoria was carefree and a more relaxing person to be around, she never infuriated him with her singing in the shower, or her leaving wineglasses by the bathroom sink. He had everything he didn't want in his wife, and was tempted by everything he could ever want in a woman by Astoria. Not that it mattered, he was planning on leaving Pansy within the next year, just as soon as he mastered the cowardly instinct she always brought on in him.
Then one day, the glint in her eye disappeared altogether. He and Pansy were sharing breakfast in their kitchen, Draco almost completely ignoring her if not for his slight interjection of, 'Pass me the pepper,'. Another thing that irked him, she never cooked his breakfast properly. It would take her no less than a few seconds to sprinkle some flavour on, yet she never did.
When his eyes rose to her face for the first time that day what he saw puzzled and scared him. Pansy sat there, her hands covering her face and shaking uncontrollably. She handed him a piece of parchment. It was a signed doctor's note from St. Mungo's, prescribing an elixir for Pansy that Draco had never heard before.
He told her that he did not understand, leaning forwards a little so as to rest his hand upon her shoulder. Was she sick? Dying? Draco's heart began to race ahead of him, his mind not quite where it normally was, inside his head, but rather wandering aimlessly; trying desperately to make sense of what his wife was saying. Words were coming out of her in hiccups. But when she drew her hands down from her face a smile so bright and gleaming such as he had never seen before rested there.
'I'm pregnant Draco. We're going to be parents!' she squealed, happiness evident all over her face.
For a moment the world stopped. His mind caught up and then he breathed.
He jumped upwards and moved to hold her, clutching on to her robes and burying his face in her neck. His own tears joined hers and together they stayed there for a while. For over 10 years they'd been trying for a child and now it was here and he would hold onto her forever if he had to. He just didn't want this moment to end. The glint in her eyes had gone now, but in its place was a burning longing. They felt connected such as they hadn't in years.
Draco began doing things for her she'd always wanted. He redecorated their bedroom and kitchen and planted some flowers outside in their small but lovely garden. He had never been happier. When Astoria got the letter from him saying that they could never again speak of the love and life they'd almost had, she locked herself in her room for days; neither sleeping nor eating.
When they walked through town he'd buy Pansy anything she wanted, because soon money would be stretching much further and he wanted to pamper her while he could. And so he spent a fortune on jewellery to make her feel good and perfumes to make her smile. He was happy with Pansy, and though it was not like the love with Astoria, it was still happiness. They began rekindling their long forgotten romance, with kisses and cuddles and trips to the seaside before winter came upon them. When it did he was suddenly grateful for her black fur cloak, it protected her and their child from the cold. Perhaps he'd judged too soon. For many nights that winter they would snuggle together on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around them both and hot cups of cocoa warming their fingers.
As strange as it was, by acting like a man in love he found he came to love her after all.
One night a month before their baby would arrive, Pansy was preparing dinner. Draco read the Prophet while his feet rested after a hard day of work. He'd offered to help with dinner but she had been insistent that he relax.
He heard the glass breaking before he heard the scream. Running into the kitchen, he saw Pansy on her knees, her legs tucked in behind her as she clutched her stomach. The glass she'd been pouring the wine into was in pieces on the floor, the crimson wine staining her white dress. Her gathered her in his arms, and laid her gently on the sofa, whilst already preparing to apparate to Mungo's. Time flew past with no heed for the people who so desperately need it to slow down. Draco arrived in the emergency ward, shouting for help and grabbing the first healer to run to his side. He and the young woman popped into his living room, the healer running instantly to Pansy's side, while Draco ran to hold her in his arms.
'Leave her Sir, please, I need space.'
The quick incantation of healing spells filled the room, muffled in Draco's ears as panic and worry overcame him. The night was long, painful but mostly hollow. The healer sent a patronus for more help, since she couldn't apparate Pansy to the ward in this condition lest it endanger the baby.
Draco watched as the world flew past his eyes, people entering and leaving the house, spells being muttered like a chant. His wife's future a puzzle he wasn't sure he wanted to solve.
At four o'clock that morning the noise stopped, the healers seized their casting and the sound of birds began to echo throughout the silent room. A healer, he couldn't be sure which, rested a hand on Draco's shoulder. He didn't need the 'I'm sorry,' that followed to know what had happened.
When they had left Draco knew that he was alone, for no breathing of Pansy's was to be heard, nor any hint of a baby's weeping. Draco felt completely alone.
Life went on, and after many months of quiet solitude Draco felt he was ready to brave a walk outside. He wasn't sure where he wanted to go or why, he had no destination, no motivation, simply a desire to walk. It was hard to start with but as his feet found their way over steps and stone, each step getting a little easier, he felt the cold autumn wind breathe on his face.
Down the streets that were busier he heard the laughter of children and the chatting of women everywhere. The sounds were not comforting, nor did they sadden him, they were simply there; indifferent factors he would need to face for the rest of his life.
It was the swish of the fabric that caught his eye, the fur blowing softly in the breeze, the fingers that clutched at it. The black fur cloak passed him as he turned a corner and before he knew what he was doing he turned and began to chase it. All thought of discretion disregarded he grabbed his Pansy by the shoulders and hugged her like she'd never even left. It was only as the gentleman pushed firmly against his shoulder that he backed away, seeing the young blonde woman trembling, not quite sure what had just happened between herself and this stranger.
Draco's heart felt like a leaded weight now. He felt he'd come out empty and was now weighed down like when he'd carried bags upon bags of presents home for his wife. He softly whispered an apology and turned to walk home, alone again.
Strange as it is, even now after all this time his heart still beats faster at the sight of a woman in a fur black cloak.