Disclaimer: There's no way if I were JKR I'd be updating this often. I mean, the woman has a life!

Chapter 7: So Not 'The Morning After'


When I (finally) get back from the drugstore, I make my way into the living room, finding Pansy sprawled out on the couch. And it might just be the light or maybe it's the contrast between her newly black hair and pale skin, but her eyes look puffier than they did before I left.

I triumphantly hold out the white plastic bag that holds my purchase, "Hey you, I've returned with gifts!"

"Swell, Potter," she says as she grabs the bag from me and sets it down on the floor next to the couch, "Thanks."

"I guess I really don't know if I got the right thing," I say as move a little closer toward the couch.

She keeps her eyes fixed on the TV, saying, "I'm sure it'll be fine"

I search for something to say, deciding my incident at the store will do nicely, "The craziest thing happened while I was there though..."

She deadpans, "Had a showdown with old Voldie-Poo?"

"Uh, no," and I can't ignore it anymore, asking, "Are you okay?"

"I'm super."

Her eyes still haven't met mine.

"Jeeze, it's the weirdest thing," I begin sarcastically, "but I somehow don't believe you."

"Your problem, not mine," she dismisses with a wave of her hand.

"Talk to me about it?"

"Your problem? I would if I could, but I have no idea what it exactly is. You'd do well just to go pay a psychiatrist to figure it out, you know?"

"Pans," I sigh, "c'mon."

"No, I'm serious," she states, finally looking at me.

"Yeah?" I ask gravely, "Well, so am I. Talk to me."

She sits up on the couch, tucking her legs beneath herself, pointedly looking at the now empty space beside her.

I guess that's her way of inviting me to sit down. Which I do. Even though it's my couch and I don't need an invite to sit on it anyway.

She situates herself so she's facing me, and I follow suit, knowing this isn't going to be the sort of conversation where it's appropriate to simply turn my head and listen.

"Harry, do you know what's wrong with me?"

And I don't know why I take the hey-I'm-humorous approach, but I do, "Besides the fact you seemingly have no eyebrows?"

She offhandedly replies, "Yeah, besides that."

But I still think I'm funny, "Well, I guess your hair is abnormally black."

She rolls her eyes, "You're such a dumb ass. Never mind."

Then I realize I'm not funny and have to make up for lost sincere-time, "No, seriously, Pans, what's up?"

She starts, "I--I just..."

I wait for her to continue.

She opts to begin another way, "You know how you were pestering me about the magic thing?"

I answer slowly, "Yeah..."

"You know how you called me this afternoon?"

And I think Okay, so one and one here? Yeah, so not equaling two.

"Yeah. Look, Pans... I don't understand what one has to do with the--"

She interrupts, "Just let me--"

And then we're both silent for a moment or so.

But I'll be damned if I say anything else, because she's basically just told me to shut up. I'll just give her time, you know?

I can sort of tell by her eyes that she really wants to say whatever it is she's trying to say. It's just that she's having some issues with the whole actually-saying-it part, though.

After a few moments she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"I--never mind, it's not important."

And I really want to disagree with her, tell her, "No, obviously it IS important." But I know that won't get me anywhere. And I can't help but wonder at what could it possibly be. Another letter from Draco? Or is she still upset about the first one? I mean, I guess that'd be understandable to a degree, after all, it was only this morning she received it. But wasn't the whole hair-dying thing supposed to be some sort of catharsis from all of that? However, none of has anything to do with my calling her... or magic, for that matter.

But I ignore my thoughts, and simply opt for saying, "Okay."

She gives me a small smile, "Let's just hang out tonight, Potter. Okay?"

I bemusedly smile, "In contrast to what we've done every other night?"

"Exactly," she affirms.

"So what will this hanging out entail tonight?"

"Um," she ponders, "movies, popcorn, tons of other food, and girl talk!"

I cough, "Girl talk?"

"Yeah," she bounces a little on the couch, asking, "aren't you excited?"

"Wow," I widen my eyes, "way excited."

"And... if you're lucky," she raises her eyebrows, "I might schedule in an underwear-clad pillow fight."

"Shit," I say solemnly, "I'll hold my breath for that one."

"Please do, sweetie," she smiles pleasantly, "You'll look good in blue."

I frown, "Really? 'Cause I really never thought it was my color."

"Oh, believe me," she nods, "blue is totally you."

"You know," I say, dubiously, "I don't know if my turning blue really should be one of the events on our list tonight."

She rolls her eyes, and slouches back into the couch a bit, "Party pooper."

I shrug, "Pick a different activity and I'm yours."

She leans forward, "Swear?"

I nod, "Swear."

She tilts her head to the side slightly, asking, "Pinky swear?"

I slowly state, "Pinky. Swear."

"Promise?"

"Pans, I promise. What do you want? A ring?"

I realize too late, of course, what I've just said.

But she just smiles and says, "Nah, I'm good on rings. I believe you. About the promising, I mean."

In the end we don't end up doing the whole girl-talk thing anyway. Which was a relief because I really have no desire to talk about the things I know girls talk about when they're alone with each other.

There, however, is tons of food. We decide early on in the night that it is definitely a Chinese sort of night. We, of course, opt for a dozen or so extra fortune cookies, and have blast reading them aloud to one another:

o o o

I crack my first one open, discarding the actual cookie onto a paper plate for later consumption.

"Now is the time to make circles with mints, do not haste any longer."

I scrunch up my face and turn to Harry, who is wearing a similar sort of expression.

He shrugs, "I dunno, Pansy. I always was crap at Divination."

I laugh, "Do you think Trelawney wrote this?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, it has nothing to do with death or me..."

I smile, "Oh, that's right. Well, you've survived this far, haven't you?"

He rolls his eyes, "We'd best consult another cookie before I answer that one for you."

He cracks his cookie open and pulls out the slip of paper:

"It is time for you to apologize for your current hair cut and get a new one."

He looks up at me smiling, "Oh, Pans, I think this one belonged to you..."

I mock-frown at him and take a whack at his arm, "Whatever, Potter. You know you deserve the world an apology for that hair of yours. I mean, just comb it every once in awhile!"

He rolls his eyes, "Jeeze, that's an excellent thought. Why didn't I think of that before?"

I squint at him, "Sarcasm doesn't suit you, you know."

He squints evenly back at me, stating, "I know. That's why I like it."

And I just shrug, selecting out another cookie.

And that's how we spend our night, eating stale cookies with truly weird fortunes in them, while watching a movie repeatedly on pay per view.

o o o

I really haven't been sleeping well at night. Ever since Pansy sort of moved in, I mean.

So when I find myself suddenly awake in the middle of the night, it isn't anything out of the ordinary.

I squint at my digital clock: 4:29 in the morning. I sigh, deciding to simply roll back over and wait to fall back asleep when I hear something.

Initially I think it's the TV, but after listening for a few moments, I realize it's Pansy talking. I can't make anything out, but it's definitely her.

I reach for my glasses, pushing them up the bridge of my nose as I climb out of bed and head for my bedroom door. I close the distance between my door and hers within a few seconds. I slowly open the door to her room, pausing to listen to what she is saying. It's absolutely nothing coherent. I move further into the room and see her thrashing around in the bed, mumbling to herself. I guess that she's having some sort of a bad dream. Maybe having Chinese wasn't the best idea after all.

o o o

I'm in Malfoy Manor, sitting at the elaborate dining table in the equally elaborate dining room. I stare out the window that faces the series of gardens. I notice the gardens seem to have long since fallen into disrepair. A moment later, Draco joins me at the table.

I glance down to my dinner plate and absently count the forks sitting just to the left. I never did see the point in having so much damn silverware for each place setting.

"The road is long, Snap," Draco says suddenly.

I look to him and find his gray eyes are fixed intently on mine.

All I can manage is, "What?"

"Prophecies don't mean anything, you know? Neither do expectations. Even those you have for yourself."

The room suddenly changes and I find myself back at Hogwarts. I'm holding my wand (a single strand of hair from a Centaur inside a willow casing), casting an offhand spell at a bottle of spilled ink. The ink instantly disappears off the scratched up tabletop. It won't be until later, I know, that I find the ink spot on the hem of my skirt.

And Draco's there again. Vying for my attention, since I've decided to ignore him this week. The boy never did take well to being ignored.

"Pansy," he whines, "I'm sorry about the whole thing with Daphne, okay?"

Oh, so that's why I'm not talking to him this week. I'd forgotten. Not like it was anything new, anyway.

I continue to ignore him.

"Name it and it's yours. Just talk to me, okay?"

He's just so used to getting his way. And me? Well, I'm altogether too used to being stubborn.

I know when I later remind him of this moment, he'll deny begging me to speak to him. Whatever, though. This is just how we are.

Everything shifts again and I find myself lying in our bed. My and Draco's bed, I mean. I slowly drift into consciousness, trying to pinpoint why I feel so ... off.

I frown a bit and move to Draco's side, snuggling up against him. He pushes me away slightly, but it's not a conscious thing with him, at least I don't think so.

"Draco?" I ask as I lightly brush my fingers over his forearm.

He mumbles something, eventually opening one eye to peer at me, closing it just after it focuses on me.

"Hold me?" I softly inquire.

I catch his lips turn up just the tiniest bit as his arm moves, allowing me a space to move into. Once I've situated myself, his arm comes around me.

And I try to fall back asleep. Try to tell myself that everything is fine. But I just feel this unignorable emptiness.

Within a second that scene is gone too. And the random mix of memories and altogether unique sequences continue on and on.

o o o

I've tried at least a half dozen things to wake her up. I've turned on the lights, I've yelled at her, I've splashed water in her face, I've set my cell phone alarm to go off while next to her ear, but she's still fast asleep, mumbling and moving around in the bed.

And I'm starting to get really worried. I mean, some may say, "Oh, it's just a dream. Let her wake up on her own," I don't feel the same way. I mean, I've had my share of dreams that I wish someone had simply just woken me up from. I'm not saying she's got some sort of link with an evil wizard that allows her access to his innermost thoughts, but better safe than sorry, right?

I've all but given up on waking her when I sit down on the edge of the bed.

She's stopped moving for the time being, but her frowning face tells me she's still dreaming. I slowly move my head towards hers, whispering in her ear, "Hey, Pans, wake up, hm? Pansy, c'mon. Pannnsy."

And just like that her eyes snap open and she practically knocks her head into mine as she bolts upright.

"Fuck," she gasps, breathing deeply, her hair now strewn haphazardly across her face.

I move my hand to push her hair behind her ear as I ask, "You okay?"

She jumps a little bit again, finally looking at me to ask, "What are you doing in my room?"

"You were dreaming," I begin lamely.

She takes a deep breath and exhales before saying, "I sure was."

I realize my hand is still resting on the back of her neck, drawing it away quickly, asking, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shudders, "No. Definitely not."

I nod, "Okay then. I guess I'll, uh, just go--" and I move to get up off the bed.

"No! Don't!" she says quickly, grabbing hold of my hand.

"Don't?" I question, sitting back down on the bed.

She clears her throat and diverts her eyes from mine as she drops my hand. I notice she's still breathing heavily. And it's strange how vulnerable she seems in that moment. I know it must just be a trick of the lighting or something, but there it is. And let me tell you something, it pretty much scares the shit out of me. I mean, yeah, I witnessed her crying not even twenty four hours ago, but somehow that was different; she was just stressed out because she wasn't in control of everything around her, you know?

I decide not to ask for an explanation, instead just saying, "Okay. I'll stay."

She smiles gratefully (well, as grateful as she can ever look) at me as she slides back down in between the sheets.

I move around the bed and slip below the covers as well.

And WOW, is this ever awkward. Or maybe it's just me.

But, hell, it's practically five o'clock in the fucking morning and I'm tired, so I drift off within five minutes anyway.

o o o

I slowly drift awake, sleepily aware of my feeling unnaturally safe. And so warm, too. Not like stuffy warm, but like cozy warm, you know?

Though, I can't help but wonder what-the-hell-is-up-with-my-pillow? It's all squishy and sort of solid instead of being fluffy and ...fluffy? I briefly consider punching it, but think better of it, instead opening my eyes to investigate before resulting to physical violence against it.

And fuck, am I glad I opened my eyes before deciding to start pounding on anything.

Why, you might ask?

Oh, nothing really. Just that Potter so happens to be my pillow.

And for one horrifying moment I worry that I might have drooled all over his chest, lifting my head up off of his chest for an up-close inspection of his navy blue t-shirt, but I see it looks perfectly dry, so I guess I'm in the clear.

You know, except for the fact I'm sleeping with him. I mean, once you get past that, it's all sunshine and daisies and shit.

"But wait," I think as I lay my head back down on his chest, being entirely unable to do anything but that since his arm has a pretty firm grip around my torso, not allowing much room for shifting, "Sleeping in the same bed with him does not mean the same thing that fucking him does. Phew!"

Hey, give me a break. I'm a little bit irrational in the morning. Don't forget about the whole Bootes/fire/getting-Potter-pissed-at-me-for-making-fun-of-the-werewolf incident, because that's pretty decent proof I'm a bit insane in the morning. Or, you know, always. Whatever.

And so I just sort of lay there for awhile, making a conscious effort not to drool. But I guess it still must've been pretty early, because I fall back asleep without even wondering as to why the hell he is in my bed in the first place.

Which is probably way weirder than anything else that has happened all week.

o o o

I wake up thinking one thing, and one thing only: Shiiiit, does my arm hurt.

And so I try to move it, but there's, like, this dead weight holding it down.

And WHY does my chest feel wet? I move to shift my body a bit, but find that whatever is weighting down my arm is also anchored onto half of my body.

Wow, is this ever so not comfortable.

I squeeze my eyes shut a little tighter before opening them. I am greeted with the sight of my guest bedroom. Which confuses the hell out of me at first. But then I remember that Pansy is staying in this room and for some reason that makes my being in the room more acceptable than it was before.

Coherency in the morning isn't exactly my thing.

"Okay," I think, "Harry, focus. If this is Pansy's room, then where is Pansy? But first! Find out why you can't move your body and why your t-shirt is damp."

And who would've known that all of those answers could've been answered all at once?

Pansy is sleeping on my chest, leg anchored over my right, and she's drooling.

I should definitely get a shit load of Hero Points for this one. I mean, honestly. Not that I'm keeping track or anything, though.

I know, however, there's no way I'll be able to extricate myself from her without waking her up. So I just lie there for awhile.

Merlin, this is all so cliché. Lucky thing all of this wasn't a result from doing anything sexual with her.

Wait? What am I saying? That I'm lucky that I got stuck with the cuddling end of the deal without the sex that usually takes place beforehand?

Maybe I do need to look into seeing a psychiatrist.

And suddenly she lifts her head up from my chest, lucidly asking, "Hey, you okay?"

I look into her concerned face, which is positioned about four inches away from mine, her black hair itching my face... and in that moment I know.

Know what, you might ask?

Oh, just that I'm falling for Pansy Parkinson, soon to be Pansy Parkinson-Malfoy.

Nothing weird or anything, you know.

Riiiight.

But I don't have a whole lot of time to dwell on it though because she's expecting an answer from me.

I clear my throat, willing myself to think about something else, and ask, "Yeah, why?"

Just like that. As if the situation we've found ourselves in is completely normal.

Well, I guess it could be normal for her. I wouldn't know.

I, on the other hand, usually avoided situations like these at all costs. I mean, unless they're on my terms.

But nothing dealing with Pansy is on my terms. Nothing.

She doesn't act as if she notices anything weird about any of this, though. Instead continuing on with the beginning of our conversation.

"Your heart is racing. It woke me up, you know."

I laugh shakily, "Well, if you hadn't been using me as a pillow you wouldn't have heard it at all."

She raises an eyebrow, "Well, if you hadn't had a death grip on me when I woke up earlier, I would've moved."

And I quickly realize she's right. My arm is still tightly wrapped around her. I quickly release my hold and she moves off of me, into a sitting position, propping herself up with a few pillows, still looking at me, waiting for an answer concerning my heart rate.

I quickly shift so I'm semi vertical too, licking my lips and wishing I had remembered to leave a glass of water for myself on the nightstand. And then I remember that I did. Only, you know, in my own room.

I glance at her before diverting my eyes, saying, "I guess I just got a little freaked out when I woke up, that's all."

I look back to her and notice she looks pretty amused.

"What?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing," she lightly replies.

And I can tell she's trying to look smug about something, but it's a hard look to pull off when your hair is have sort of smashed on one side of your head, yet insanely frizzy on the other side.

Well, also if the person you're trying to look down upon just so happens to be someone you were drooling on while sleeping not even ten minutes ago.

I frown at her, "Whatever. Do you know you drool in your sleep?"

And score! Potter: One. Parkinson: ...well, probably more than 5.

Maybe I won't keep track of the score after all.

Anyway, she looks positively horrified, which leads me to believe she does, in fact, know she drools.

And then I feel sort of bad for bringing it up at all. And feeling that way always translates into me wanting to do something to make the other person feel better.

So I lightly hit her shoulder and say, "Hey, don't even worry about it. I know someone who will be more than happy to make a stack of pancakes for us. How about it?"


abercrombie 18: Thanks for reviewing! I can't say I won't include it later... you never know. :)

Cybill: I know, I usually do not like Ron/Hermione either, but there's just something inside of me that makes me write it! So I try to make it less sickening than usual. hehe. Thanks for reviewing!

harrison potter: I tried to get lots of Harry/Pansy dialogue in this one for you. Not even one phone call from those "other" people. Thanks for reviewing!

harrypansy4ever!111: love to you too! Thanks for reviewing!

LaBelle Evans: hearts to Ron! Thanks so much for another lovely review!

EnlightenedKing: Yeah, it does sort of seem like Harry's whipped. I sort of approach that in a bit I've written for a later chapter. I don't know, he's just a nice guy, you know? And yeah, I'll try to get into all of that other stuff in good time. :) Thanks for reviewing!

Love Liberty Disco x: Thanks so much for reviewing! It means a lot to me!

princess-of-darness: Thanks for reviewing!

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(4/24/06)