The air rang with Draco's quiet words.
"Why is it that you make me kind, when I only make you cruel?"
The flames settled in the fireplace, losing their emerald tempestuousness and receding to a humble, thoughtful orange. Pansy picked up Goyle's wand from where it had been displaced in the corner of the room. She held the crude bit of wood between her palms and contemplated breaking it over her knee or thrusting it into the fire as she had done it's owner.
Am I cruel?
It had never been something she had feared before. If anything, it was something she had accepted about herself, justifying it as a necessity in an unfair, heartless world. She was cruel to protect herself and her loved ones, and in that way she had hoped it eradicated itself. A selfless cruelty. But perhaps that was not the case.
It was true she did not guard her tongue around Draco. Criticisms of others spilled from her lips. And it was also true that there was an element of politics in this party she had thrown. It was good to give Draco company, and it was good to see her friends… but it was also necessary to reconsolidate their power. If Draco and she were going to be a strong couple and have a strong family, they needed their old allies back. They needed a group of Slytherins to base a network in. Out there, people were drinking and laughing and healing old wounds… Pansy could not quite see whether this action was more selfish or selfless. Surely there was no cruelty in it?
As for Goyle. Yes, that was heartless. But again that was to protect herself and others. She would not let the young ones look upon the face of their torturer.
Draco was half right. Not in that he made her cruel, but that he permitted her cruelty, even when he did not agree with it. Quite in the way she did him. Draco had few close friends. There had been a genuine… if not affection, bond between he, Crabbe and Goyle. She would happily sacrifice that friendship to spare the others. Crabbe was the monster, but it was Goyle who should have been the one to stop him. Pansy had tried, and Draco… had abandoned them.
How terrible they were together. How truly wrong he was to think that she made him kind.
Pansy glanced at her reflection, a stone ghost in the mirror. She looked beautiful and cold and fearsome. For once, she hated it.
The wand felt like a callous in her hand. She would not break it or burn it. It would be dangerously foolish. Carefully, she placed it on the side where Draco could retrieve it later.
Instead of returning to the room where the guests were progressively making themselves evermore infused with alcohol, she roamed the manor. It was likely many of the visitors would stay longer than a night, perhaps a week. Families at Christmas were not always pleasant things to return to, so she made sure the countless spare rooms had beds set up, each with a crystal chalice of water and hangover draft which she had handmade the day before.
She had spent many summers and a handful of winters at Malfoy manor. Each visit a happy and an unhappy one, each filled with a want so grand it filled her entirely. She had desired Draco and this life style and feeling she was needed.
This unending want had made her weep bitter tears for it's sheer impossibility. Draco's moods were too changing and she too wanting to ever live up to being the Lady of Malfoy Manor.
Now she had it all in her grasp. Yet the Pansy who was so sure in herself and her desire for this place was gone. She felt like she was a charcoal drawing of the girl she once was, blurred through time.
Gradually she came across Draco's room (she could not yet think of it as her own) and her feet and fingers found themselves at Charlie's present. The novel was weighty in her hands and had that calming, woody, gorgeous smell of old books; an amalgamation of leather, candle-smoke and safety.
The Dragon Princess on the cover, who looked so much like she did, stared impassively back. Her face was expressionless, but not unhappy. The woman looked so sure of who she was, just as Pansy felt when her arms were aching after working with the dragons, or from a day scouring over books in the library, or laughing with the wranglers in the mountains.
She missed them; those mad dragon people, paradoxical Gryffindors and eccentric academics. A foolish part wished they were here. Accepting this life with Draco meant bidding adieu to them. It did not quite seem like a fair exchange, for either of them.
For once she decided to take her mother's advice. Staring at herself in the silver mirror she changed her troubled features into what looked like a sickening grin. Again, she practiced, again and again, until the smile seemed almost sincere.
There. The lie was arranged perfectly on her face. She was ready.
There was a polite knock at the door – which instantly indicated it was not Draco, who would never demean himself to knock in his own house.
Pansy turned her perfectly schooled face toward the sound. Theo leant there, elegant in a grey suit, which accentuated his height and striking tan skin. All the Nott family possessed the same soil-brown eyes, golden skin and hair that was just a few shades darker.
"Miss Parkinson."
"Mr Nott."
She remained slightly watchful. Theo had always been a quiet one in the common room and was not someone that she knew terribly well except for what she had heard through Millicent. He was a keen Ballycastle Bats supporter, suffered from migraines, had a surprise fondness for muggle indie pop (which he shared with Millicent)… and his father was one of the bloodiest killers in Voldemort's reign.
"… Would you forgive me if I ask if whether you were alright?" he asked, perceptively.
"Obviously not, Nott," Pansy replied, feigning to fix her hair, and using the crutch of old jokes.
"Well, I'll get straight to the point then... Thank you."
"For the party? Oh, it's nothing. It's more to entertain Draco than anything else. You know what a pathetic recluse he's been of late. Such self-indulgent misery. "
Her words were so harsh. They shouldn't be. Draco wanted to marry her, but she could not quite hide her current disgust at him. It was not even disgust with him. It was herself. What was happening to her?
"Well, he's in true Draco form at the moment-"
"Desperate to be liked and being a repugnant show off?"
Theo laughed. "That's it. Forgive me for saying, but Draco's desire to be so unanimously liked has always amused me when he has an utter inability to be likeable."
Despite herself, Pansy cackled. "You not such a fan of the poor, delinquent rich boy?"
"That's the point. I am. I'm very fond of him. Not to the extent where I'd want him to be my best friend, but he'd be a very tolerable dinner party companion. And you know… There's that shared Slytherin history we all have. I suppose I partly find him annoying because on the surface we're relatively similar – rich, pureblood boys with morally repugnant families.
"Which brings me," Theo sighed. "Back to my thank you. It's not for the party – it's for the legal advice. It looks like my father's sentence won't be as long as it was looking like six months ago. I'm very grateful, Pansy. My father is not a man I am best fond of, but… I'm glad he won't die in prison. I suppose that makes me rather terrible?"
"Not at all," Pansy said softly.
"The death threats don't agree," he replied with a sad smile. "Have you received any? We were just discussing it downstairs. Even some of the innocent have got a couple. Everyone's got a rather grand amount of bravado about it. It's been almost unanimously agreed that it's quite the embarrassment if you haven't received one – don't tell Millie about it though. She worries enough about everyone already."
False cheer dropped from Pansy's face like a stone down a well. "Has Millicent received one?"
"Yes, but I destroyed it before she saw– sorry, I probably shouldn't be off-loading this onto you. There's not many people downstairs I can tell this to."
Pansy gave him a Mona Lisa smile. She was glad he felt comfortable to tell her these things, but a tiny part of her rankled. Always, always, people thought it fine to hide their secrets in her. It was better this way than any other, yet often they were horrible secrets. Things she would have to fix or personal ordeals she would have preferred not to know. Sometimes she felt like a diary people hid their horrors in.
Truthfully, she replied; "I'm glad you feel comfortable to tell me."
"Then I hope you won't hate me for asking this…" His face coloured. "I hate it when people ask me this. My family does it constantly. Even when people are silent, I can see it I their looks. 'Why,' " he gulped, a closed fist the only indication of his consuming anger, " 'are you with Millie?'."
"What an idiotic question. She's one of the funniest, kindest-" burst Pansy.
"I know, I know… It's why I hate myself for asking – but why Draco?" His gaze was so piercing that it ran through her and strangely made her aware that he had avoided looking directly at her up until then.
"What do you mean?" She said in words that truly meant how dare you. Everything shut down inside.
"Blaise told us what had just happened with Goyle, not to mention the years of-"
"Hello!" sang Millicent brightly, making it abjectly aware that she had heard a good portion of the conversation. "How are we all?"
"Fine. I think." Pansy replied, glaring. It was her default expression, but this time had an extra edge to it.
"Hello, love," said Theo, eyes softening. He took breath. "In the spirit of honesty, I should probably admit that I was asking Pansy why on earth she was running herself through the mill to be with Draco. Again. Probably not the wisest of moves. I may have signed my own death warrant."
"Possibly," she replied with a brittle smile.
Millicent leaned in and stole a kiss from him, ignoring the ice in the room. "Isn't it obvious? They love each other. Like that muggle book we all illicitly read – they're Heathcliff and Catherine. Though I don't know which is which. Possibly they're both?"
"If I ever run around the rose garden shouting 'I AM DRACO,' send me immediately to St Mungo's."
"Who are we then?" Theo replied, hand naturally finding the curve of Millicent's back.
"No one tragic, I hope."
"See that's my point. There's nothing romantic about tragedy – no offense, Pans."
Millicent rolled her eyes, despairing. "You quite the traditionalist, Theo. They're perfect together."
"If you are, please forget I ever said anything, Pansy – you as well, Mrs-Nott-to-be. It's just, you seem very well at the moment –Romanian air obviously suits you- and Draco…" Theo's face clouded. "Ignore me. Only a fool would know Pansy Parkinson better than herself."
"Too true!" cheered Millicent. Noticing Pansy's unease, she added. "Shall we meet you downstairs?"
Once the pair had left, Pansy gave an involuntary shudder. Theo's perceptiveness was uncomfortable. She was not sure she would have echoed any of her thoughts to Millicent or Blaise. After so many years of wanting Draco, the thought that she may not… was almost an embarrassment. The fact that Theo could see it so easily through her sickly sweet smiles and carefully carefree conversation was unsettling. He did come from a family of liars after all. Perhaps falsehoods meant little to him now.
It wasn't that she did not want Draco. They were just different people now. When it was so easy to relax into each other's sins, there was no need for either to be better than they had the capability to be.
Charlie watched the clock tick.
After learning more of the less pleasant home life of his close friend, Charlie was taking pains to appreciate the Weasley home while he was here. In part this was easy – he did miss his Mother's caring nature and his Father's amiable conversation. It was the unusual silence of the house that spooked him, which made the absences gnaw. Every single other Weasley was planning to arrive at the Burrow on Christmas day, and not a moment sooner. Leaving him and the tick of the clock.
Or to be more precise, he and his Mother's worrying and Father's meandering muggle-talk and the tick of the clock. Three days had been lovely. Three days had been his limit.
He had done everything he could think of to keep busy. He'd even written letters, quite an un-Charlie activity. Five abandoned ones lay beneath his desk, all addressed to one person, all rejected for their frequency and aimless content. Chores had been done repeatedly, conversations had been had with his parents ad finitum (often the same conversation again and again). Even his Christmas presents had been twice wrapped. And yet… and yet…
Nothing had tried to kill him and it was driving him insane.
He felt like he'd been put out to pasture, limbs and mind softening. What he wouldn't give for a close encounter with a dragon or a harsh word from Pansy or – What?
What a terribly strange thing to miss. Though to be honest, thought Charlie staring at the clock as it struck 7pm (his parents doing the dishes between them, not letting their rarely seen son get up to help), even if Pansy was not quite the same as facing a dragon, at least she tested him mentally. All conversation with her felt like a literal battle of wits, as if he were walking on tight ropes or knives – but how he craved it!
For once, all the numerous comments about Charlie being slightly unusual suddenly made sense to him. Pushing that thought back, he flick through his memories of the past few months, reliving some of their conversations, some of her mad turns of phrase and weird ways. Trying to grasp some of that Pansy-ness, as if trying to evoke her in the present, to summon her here if he could.
"Charlie, what are you sniggering at?" Molly asked from the sink, the snickering interrupting her solo verse of Celestina Warbeck's Christmas classic I'm a Mistletoe Missing You. (The lyrics don't make much sense either and seem to tell the story of a sentient plant with boundary issues).
"Just thinking of sausages."
Molly and Arthur exchanged a glance. Wondering whether Charlie was concussed was an inadvertent pass time for them both.
Pansy was bothered by Theo's comments. Not so much by their content… but why now? Draco's behaviour had been questionable for years – since day one, in fact. Why was Theo worrying about her now?
Looking at the table cluttered with Firewhisky, Goblin wine, Fairy spirit and an innocuous bottle of Archers (muggle things were so in right now), Pansy decided to go for the water. She felt remarkably clear headed. The evening had been… sobering.
Everyone looked like they were having a good time. Well, they looked like a typical group of people at a party. Somebody in the corner was upset and being responsibly comforted by her friends. Baddock had passed out in the corner cradling his shoes and Marcus was in a fierce dance off with some old Slytherin goalie.
Draco…
Where was Draco?
He should be easy to spot; anemic-looking with skin a ridiculous shade of moonlight, like some formulaic romantic hero. A slight sick feeling took her as her eyes failed to see him.
Then- like a hook her gaze caught.
Draco was talking to Astoria Greengrass.
Draco was still talking to Astoria Greengrass, after she had instructed him to hours ago.
They were quite in plain sight, though separate from everyone else, gathered in an intimate conversation that created a wordless privacy from everyone else. Pansy had not recognized Draco. He looked different. Sneer gone. Smiling?
She had never seen that look on Draco's face. He was enraptured. Eager to please. Afraid. A wide eyed amazement.
Even Astoria was thawing. From where she stood, Pansy could recognize the typical movements of a Draco Impression, all as precise as they had been at school, his sharp jokes prodding laughs from Astoria. Gone was the boy who lingered here alone. Here was a Draco who was familiar and alien, happy and trying to impress.
He would never be like this with me, she thought. Even as he glanced over at her, a ghost of guilt and anger crossed his features and was gone. Promptly, he looked away, engaging and laughing even more than he had. There was no punishment like silent anger and private jokes. Astoria and he seemed to be doing very well at that – a hand was on the small of her back and a blush tinged Draco's cheeks as she leaned in to whisper a joke.
Despite Pansy's complex of feelings, it still felt like a punch to the gut. She had thought herself the only one who could save Draco from himself, the only one who would bear to be around him.
Astoria thought she hid her attraction from him well, her smiles composed and laughter fleeting… Pansy could clearly see she was entranced. Eyes glittered, smile unexpected.
And that was the end of that.
"I've always thought parties were strange things," Blaise said in her ear. Pansy stayed frozen and staring at the pair. They looked lovely, candlelight reflecting on their skin, a mirror or pureblood perfection utterly ignorant of the rest of the room. It was as if there was another light igniting them from within. Conversation flowed like song from their lips and looks were exchanged like chaste, careful kisses.
"Events that could take months to unfold in the real world, can take hours to solve over at a party over a glass of champagne. I, for one, just got lucky with someone I'd had my eye on since sixth year (so long ago it's practically an embarrassment now). Millicent and Theo have just had their first lovers tiff, all solved in twenty minutes so they're back to being disgustingly loved-up. And you, my devastating Pansy, look like you've made a decision."
"It's a good decision," Pansy replied. She lifted her fingers to her lips – there was a strange, sad smile on her face. Relief and melancholy aching through her bones. "I've never believed in true love, or love at first sigh-" Something choked in her throat.
"But you know Draco well enough to see it," Blaise said in a low voice, his eyes kind. "He loves you Pansy, in his own selfish way. The boy is loyal, I'll tell you that. He could be completely entranced by this slip of a thing but he'd never stray from you-"
"-Which is why I have to do it. This is going to sound strange, Blaise… it may even sound like I'm defending my honour. (The little of it I have anyway…) I think my decision had already been made. I was just scared he'd be alone. Rather foolishly I thought I was the only one strong and stupid enough to still care for him."
Her friend drew her to him, kissed her forehead and whispered with a laugh in his throat. "Your narcissism never fails to impress me."
Blaise, smart-suited and looking slightly broken himself, held her arms in his hands and looked at her. "It's in my opinion you were always the best of us-"
"Oh, shut up." Up until now she'd managed to keep the tears at bay. It was a good decision, not necessarily a happy one.
"No, listen to me. Dangerous and wise, Pansy Parkinson, is the hero the Slytherins deserved. No history books will write about what you did for us in seventh year and some of your closest friends may never know." Blaise gave a harsh look toward Malfoy. "The ones who matter know. And the ones who matter know you are far to good for that inbred."
"You," Pansy replied, flustering under a blush, "are drunk."
"I am always drunk," came the proud reply. "Does not mean I'm a liar. In vino veritas, after all."
"Are you alright?" Pansy asked, looking at the uneasy look in his eye. "Will you stay here?"
"I am much better than I've been in months, believe it or not. It's been good seeing this lot. It's been good seeing actual people. Though I'll be better once you've got this out the way. Yes, I'll stay." Perceptively, he added. " Even if you don't."
Pansy, overwhelmed, kissed him on the cheek.
"Don't tell Draco I've gone, not till I'm truly gone and it's too late."