Authors Note: I do love my Draco/Pansy friendship (or otherwise) fics so I've decided to write another one. I'm not sure if it's my strong suit but I adore them because they're awesome. This is a fairly odd fic with an angst-tinted style to it.
Pansy's fifteen and Draco's sixteen in this one.
For some History:
The name 'Cee' is Pansy. This comes from PANSEE, and how you pronounce it. So yes, 'Cee' it is.
The name 'Nolan' comes from the middle name I made up for the very lovely Draco Malfoy. Don't ask me why but 'Draco Nolan Malfoy' has a ring to it.
;)
Disclaimer: All of the characters (so on and so forth) belong to JK Rowling (whom I am extremely jealous of) That much raw talent *sigh*!
*
When you love someone or as Draco Malfoy would say, "care deeply" for someone you want to protect this very special (or not) person. From everything and anything that could get in this person's way. From horror and tragedy. From bad test grades to bad friends. You simply want to protect said person.
But what they didn't tell you was that...you can't protect some people. Some people have skulls as hard as solid rocks and hearts heavy as pounds of sugar and flour. And some people do not want to be protected. And Pansy Rose Parkinson was just like that. Exactly.
And they also didn't tell you--that some people don't like to have a reputation of protecting people. They'd much rather let you go on believing that they hated that person's bloody guts. And that they'd like to see said person dead.
But they don't. And even the ignorant know it.
For protecting people is the heroes' job. The heroes spare the vulnerable and collect the poverty stricken. And the heroes rise to the occasion. And they love the people, far more than 'care deeply'. Love. Pure love. Love that doesn't have anything to do with power, riches, or reputation.
The evil beings are not allowed to protect people. For the evil spare no one. And in the end, when the killing must be done and the fighting must begin you show no mercy. And you hold no one in your arms. You do not yell to your buddies 'watch out for this little thing!' And you most certainly do not yell: 'I've got her back.' Because it can't work that way. It's impossible and ridiculous and almost appalling.
But he was different and yet the same. Oh he had little mercy and an even smaller heart but he had something even better...he had conviction. Strong, loud, booming conviction that allowed him to speak his mind and do what he pleased. Conviction is not understated it is loud and it is not subtle. And he had it.
He cared deeply for her. And it would take a lot of him to just admit this simple fact. A lot. And he can't even remember a time that he ever told her so. She didn't need to hear it, not really. She knew, from the deepest darkest corner of her heart. If you could even call what she had a heart. She knew and neither words nor actions could rip it away. It was simple knowledge that came not with petty words but with firm action.
She was an odd person. One of the most brutally honest people he'd ever met (next to himself, of course.) She simply said what she pleased, for her sake and for no one else's. They often had long, candid conversations that consisted of long words and even longer meanings. That girl was a fighter and not even the most self-righteous Gryffindor could deny that from her. It was her title. Much like how a Princess claims to her name. The girl had ebony hair, always in a messy bun with small curls framing her face. Long dark eyelashes and stunning scarlet eyes. But she was not beautiful, by his standards. They often thought her rather shallow and insensitive. She often was.
And there he stood. Out on the Quidditch Pitch alone as the wind whipped his frosting coloured hair. He didn't mind being alone, for he was strong. Too strong, at times. And she always told him so too. But really, really she didn't have much room to talk. He mused of where she was and who she was with, and who was manipulating her at that very moment. And it wasn't a happy thought. The truth was: She was probably with Blaise, and he was far too frightened of Draco to try anything. They were probably in the Slytherin common room lounging on the jade green couch. And he probably wasn't even trying to manipulate her, if anything; it was the other way around.
But you could never be so sure.
And she tried not to think of him, either. As she ate the sloppy oatmeal that poured from the wooden bowl. She tried not to wonder where he was, and what he was doing, and whom he was snogging. And even though Blaise was an able bodied young man who was both interesting and intelligent...he wasn't Draco. And he wasn't really supposed to be either. There was this knack that came with Draco that did not come with Blaise or any other man for that matter. Or any other person.
But sooner or later, you could be almost ninety nine percent sure that later that night they would be together. Maybe relaxing on his small bed with silk sheets that was located in the messy dormitory. Maybe near the warm hearth that made her eyes sparkle and his eyes glimmer. And they'd probably be talking. Of nothing special and nothing amazing, but they would be talking. And he'd probably say many things, along many lines. Some of these things being: "Oh Cee, just go away, won't you?" Or "You're a hideous cow." And she probably ought to just go away, and she probably is a hideous cow. But she also got her turn to pay revenge to him. Her sharp tongue issued many words, producing a cacophony. "Who's new this week, Nolan?" She'd ask in a seemingly concerned voice. "Sucked up enough to Snape yet? It' s so much work, isn't it Nolan?" And it probably was a lot of work, and he probably had another girlfriend. And she probably wasn't a Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw either.
But you could be so sure, come morning that when they went their separate paths and said their succinct words that he would move Heaven and Earth for her. And that she would go to bat for him, once more of course.
And once more.
And again.
And for as long as there was Draco and Pansy there would be friendship. Even in the deepest darkest corners of their merciless hearts.
*
Pansy's fifteen and Draco's sixteen in this one.
For some History:
The name 'Cee' is Pansy. This comes from PANSEE, and how you pronounce it. So yes, 'Cee' it is.
The name 'Nolan' comes from the middle name I made up for the very lovely Draco Malfoy. Don't ask me why but 'Draco Nolan Malfoy' has a ring to it.
;)
Disclaimer: All of the characters (so on and so forth) belong to JK Rowling (whom I am extremely jealous of) That much raw talent *sigh*!
*
When you love someone or as Draco Malfoy would say, "care deeply" for someone you want to protect this very special (or not) person. From everything and anything that could get in this person's way. From horror and tragedy. From bad test grades to bad friends. You simply want to protect said person.
But what they didn't tell you was that...you can't protect some people. Some people have skulls as hard as solid rocks and hearts heavy as pounds of sugar and flour. And some people do not want to be protected. And Pansy Rose Parkinson was just like that. Exactly.
And they also didn't tell you--that some people don't like to have a reputation of protecting people. They'd much rather let you go on believing that they hated that person's bloody guts. And that they'd like to see said person dead.
But they don't. And even the ignorant know it.
For protecting people is the heroes' job. The heroes spare the vulnerable and collect the poverty stricken. And the heroes rise to the occasion. And they love the people, far more than 'care deeply'. Love. Pure love. Love that doesn't have anything to do with power, riches, or reputation.
The evil beings are not allowed to protect people. For the evil spare no one. And in the end, when the killing must be done and the fighting must begin you show no mercy. And you hold no one in your arms. You do not yell to your buddies 'watch out for this little thing!' And you most certainly do not yell: 'I've got her back.' Because it can't work that way. It's impossible and ridiculous and almost appalling.
But he was different and yet the same. Oh he had little mercy and an even smaller heart but he had something even better...he had conviction. Strong, loud, booming conviction that allowed him to speak his mind and do what he pleased. Conviction is not understated it is loud and it is not subtle. And he had it.
He cared deeply for her. And it would take a lot of him to just admit this simple fact. A lot. And he can't even remember a time that he ever told her so. She didn't need to hear it, not really. She knew, from the deepest darkest corner of her heart. If you could even call what she had a heart. She knew and neither words nor actions could rip it away. It was simple knowledge that came not with petty words but with firm action.
She was an odd person. One of the most brutally honest people he'd ever met (next to himself, of course.) She simply said what she pleased, for her sake and for no one else's. They often had long, candid conversations that consisted of long words and even longer meanings. That girl was a fighter and not even the most self-righteous Gryffindor could deny that from her. It was her title. Much like how a Princess claims to her name. The girl had ebony hair, always in a messy bun with small curls framing her face. Long dark eyelashes and stunning scarlet eyes. But she was not beautiful, by his standards. They often thought her rather shallow and insensitive. She often was.
And there he stood. Out on the Quidditch Pitch alone as the wind whipped his frosting coloured hair. He didn't mind being alone, for he was strong. Too strong, at times. And she always told him so too. But really, really she didn't have much room to talk. He mused of where she was and who she was with, and who was manipulating her at that very moment. And it wasn't a happy thought. The truth was: She was probably with Blaise, and he was far too frightened of Draco to try anything. They were probably in the Slytherin common room lounging on the jade green couch. And he probably wasn't even trying to manipulate her, if anything; it was the other way around.
But you could never be so sure.
And she tried not to think of him, either. As she ate the sloppy oatmeal that poured from the wooden bowl. She tried not to wonder where he was, and what he was doing, and whom he was snogging. And even though Blaise was an able bodied young man who was both interesting and intelligent...he wasn't Draco. And he wasn't really supposed to be either. There was this knack that came with Draco that did not come with Blaise or any other man for that matter. Or any other person.
But sooner or later, you could be almost ninety nine percent sure that later that night they would be together. Maybe relaxing on his small bed with silk sheets that was located in the messy dormitory. Maybe near the warm hearth that made her eyes sparkle and his eyes glimmer. And they'd probably be talking. Of nothing special and nothing amazing, but they would be talking. And he'd probably say many things, along many lines. Some of these things being: "Oh Cee, just go away, won't you?" Or "You're a hideous cow." And she probably ought to just go away, and she probably is a hideous cow. But she also got her turn to pay revenge to him. Her sharp tongue issued many words, producing a cacophony. "Who's new this week, Nolan?" She'd ask in a seemingly concerned voice. "Sucked up enough to Snape yet? It' s so much work, isn't it Nolan?" And it probably was a lot of work, and he probably had another girlfriend. And she probably wasn't a Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw either.
But you could be so sure, come morning that when they went their separate paths and said their succinct words that he would move Heaven and Earth for her. And that she would go to bat for him, once more of course.
And once more.
And again.
And for as long as there was Draco and Pansy there would be friendship. Even in the deepest darkest corners of their merciless hearts.
*