TITLE: Chasing the Firefly
AUTHOR: Krissy
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and co. belongs to J.K. Rowling.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is for Cassie, who loves Pansy/Ginny as much as me. Love you!
PAIRING(S): Pansy/Ginny, (Draco/Harry), implied Pansy/Draco and Ginny/Harry
RATING: PG-13, at the highest
ARCHIVE: ONLY: snitchfiction, the slytherin princess
She saw red. She wanted to stomp her foot and throw a tantrum. She wanted to tell him, "But, Draco, you're supposed to dance with me tonight," but she didn't and just uttered a goodbye, which went unheard as he was already making his way over to Potter, Weasley, and the Mudblood. Sometimes she wondered if he was in love with one of them or all three, as he spent more time trying to ruin their plans than spending time with her. He claimed to love her. Ha. Some devotion.
"It's probably Potter," she mused, watching the start of yet another verbal attack. She couldn't blame him, really. Harry Potter was nice eye candy. So was Weasley, but she'd be damned to even think that. No Slytherin in their right mind would ever like the Weasel. Poor, pathetic thing. No money and the style to prove it. And she knew it wouldn't, no *couldn't,* be the Mudblood. If it was, oh, Draco'd get an earful from HER.
"It is Harry," a small voice offered, "I caught them making out once in the broom closet."
She had a snarl prepared to greet the speaker, but when she turned, the expression faded from sight. Instead, she frowned, demanding, "What do YOU want?!"
The red haired girl shrugged, "Nothing. I just overheard what you said, and thought I'd tell you."
"Look, Jenny, Ginger, whatever your name is, you are a Weasley. Go away and leave me at peace."
She just looked at her and Pansy looked away, flushing. "My name is Ginny," she informed her. "And I don't want to go away," Ginny gestured towards the punch and cookies on the table next to the Slytherin, "You're standing next to the food."
"Oh," Pansy did have the decency to look slightly ashamed, and moved to the side, letting the younger girl pass. She took that moment to observe the Gryffindor's attire. It looked like the dress robe had seen better days, oh, a decade ago. She bit her lip and frowned. She'd been taught to sneer at the Weasley family since she was little. Whenever the two families were at a social event together, when she was younger, she'd cling to her mother's side, just watching them. Fred and George, those awful twins (thank Merlin they'd left Hogwarts), would always cause some sort of mischief. Whether it be trading identities, or offering one of their special made candies, they'd always have something up their sleeve.
'Now dear,' her mother had said, 'go mingle with the others, but stay away from the Weasleys. They're awful people. No good will come from knowing *those* muggle lovers.'
So she had. She'd held Draco's hand while he 'protected' her, assuring her he'd keep her away from the Weasley prats. They'd only been eight at the time but she knew they'd fall in love one day. It was just expected of them and how things would be. She had once noticed Ginny clinging to her own mother's side. She was a year younger than her and Draco, but was very cute in her own way. She had this; well she wouldn't identify it until she was older, thing that just spoke volumes of how innocent she was. Like nothing evil had ever touched her. Her aura maybe? Pansy didn't know. She'd refused to take Divination and didn't bother knowing the facts. It was a silly thing anyway.
And, Pansy knew, she never had. Maybe that was why she had suggested Ginny to Draco their second year. Lucius had entrusted him to choose a first year to slip the diary to. He had wanted to give it to Colin, but Pansy knew better. Creevey would have given it to Harry within a second, but she had told him Ginny. She was overlooked, no matter how hard she tried, and no one would have believed her until it was too late. So why not? Lucius had loved the idea and praised both of them, even acknowledging Pansy's part in the idea (then, Pansy thought sadly, Draco had thought the world of her. How things changed.).
"Pansy?"
Pansy turned and looked at her, not saying anything. Ginny opened her mouth and shut it, unsure of what to say. Pansy snorted as she watched. She looked so childish, just wringing her hands on the edge of her robes.
"Continue to do that and you'll rip the threads," she idly commented. Ginny's hands dropped to her side and she brushed past the blonde towards the table. Her brown eyes searched the brightly decorated candies and cookies, but flicked back towards the Slytherin every few seconds.
"What?" Pansy snapped, obviously annoyed. The girl didn't say anything, which increased her annoyance, almost ten fold. Pansy suppressed a sigh. She shouldn't have come to this. It was just a bad idea. Draco had paraded her around the room, and then took a beeline towards Potter and his cronies. Ginny, at the time, had been draped around Harry's waist, his own trophy for all to see. "Why do you let him use you?"
The question startled the red-head and Ginny's attention swiveled back to the pug-faced girl. "Er, pardon?"
"Potter," Pansy said the name with great distaste. "I saw how you came in here. Why pretend. He obviously doesn't care, and according to you, you *knew* that already."
"I'm a cover, besides," she smirked (actually smirked! Pansy gaped at her.) and responded with, "Why do you let Malfoy use *you*?"
"I love him," she said simply. She wasn't afraid of admitting this. Draco knew this, Millicent knew this, hell, Crabbe and Goyle knew it. She wasn't surprised if everyone else knew it, too. "Do you love Potter?"
"No," the answer was just as simple and made Pansy pause. She seemed so sure, but she remembered watching how the girl would be daydreaming for hours over the years. Sometimes she'd be in the library, doodling hearts with green ink. Obviously for Potter's emerald (how she loathed listening to his fangirls beam about his 'perfect, emerald eyes.' ) eyes, the glistening orbs.
"Why?" she demanded. "I don't understand. You seemed so smitten, so," she wrinkled her nose, "in love with him."
"Looks can be deceiving," she reminded her. "Who would have thought that you, so belittling and cruel, actually loved Malfoy?"
Pansy sneered, "I'm a Slytherin. We all act that way."
"Malfoy acts that way, and he really *does* hate you," Ginny replied. Pansy opened her mouth to reply, but Ginny cut her off. "You know it's true. Don't deny it. Malfoy talks, anyway, and tells Harry loads of stuff that he tells us."
I should mention that to Draco, Pansy thought snidely. Her eyes narrowed, "Why would Potter tell *you* things?"
"I'm his friend," Ginny told her. "We talk. Have you ever just *talked* to Malfoy? Do you even have any friends, Pansy?"
Pansy watched as the Gryffindor strolled away, rejoining her friends. And she wondered about her words. *Did* she have any friends?
"Slytherins don't need friends," she told herself. But why did she sound so unsure?
---
"I saw you talking to She-Weasel yesterday."
Pansy barely looked up from her text book, but nodded to Draco's question. "I did," she acknowledged, placing her Quill into the book as a bookmarker.
"Now why would you, a Slytherin, be talking to a Muggle-loving Weasel?"
"She asked for my dress designer," Pansy deadpanned, her face serious.
Draco eyed her for a second before bursting into laughter. "That's a good one, Pansy!" his face turned sneeringly again, "She'd never be able to afford your designer. Even if she saved for the rest of her life!"
Pansy shrugged. "Remind her then. I'm sure she needs to be brought down a peg or two. After all, she thinks Potter loves her. Like Potter would love anything like her. He only likes sniveling idiots, it seems."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
Pansy raised an eyebrow. Hmm, maybe Ginny was right, she thought and held back a snort of laughter. Oh, even if she thought she loved him, this was too good. "Well, he seems to have caught Colin Creepy's eye, and you know how much the kid hero-worshipped him a few years ago. If you don't lick his feet, he obviously hates you."
"Shut up, Parkinson, you don't know what you're talking about," he sneered.
"Oh, but I do, Malfoy. So, it's true."
"What's true?"
"You love Potter," she nearly chortled. "Oh, this is too good."
Draco's face paled and he angrily spat, "You have no idea what you're talking about! I don't love anything. I'd like to see him dead more than anyone."
"Oh, but there's a fine line between love and hate," she drawled. "Even someone as thick as you have to see it."
"All I can see is my fist in your face in five seconds," Draco hissed. "I have to go, because I'm tutoring someone for Snape, but we'll finish this discussion later."
"Oh, you can count on it," Pansy promised as she watched him stalk from the room. "Ah, he has it so bad."
"Who has it bad?" Millicent Bulstrode joined the blonde at the table. They were in the corner of the common room of the dungeon, and Pansy was surrounded by books. She hated this time of the year most. Studying really hard and taking tests. But, she reflected, it was all worth it in the end when she had two weeks off to do nothing.
"Malfoy," Pansy explained, "he's in love with Potter."
"Old news," the black haired girl giggled. "Crabbe and Goyle walked in on them last week and they were sworn to secrecy, after they told me, of course."
"Of course," Pansy grinned. Her grin twisted into a pout, "Why didn't you tell me?!"
"I don't gossip," Millicent protested, "I only agree if someone else finds out."
"Hmm," Pansy eyed her carefully, but she knew it was true. "Millicent," she said unexpectedly, "do you think of us as friends?"
Millicent blinked, "Yes, of course, Pansy."
"Close friends?" she persisted.
"Um," Millicent blinked again, "honestly?"
"Yes," Pansy said primly.
"Honestly, no," she admitted, "I wouldn't ever tell you one of my secrets, and I know you wouldn't tell me one. I don't think either of us *could* learn to trust one another."
Pansy nodded. It was true. If she had a choice, she'd rather die with her secrets, than to tell Millicent, or Queenie Greengrass, or Blaise Zabini, or even Draco! "Thank you for your honesty," Pansy told her. It seemed almost sad how they were reduced down to this. Although, Pansy reflected, they were probably closer than she would be with anyone.
---
Pansy studied the parchment with practiced indifference. Oh, how she hated receiving owls from home.
'Hope you aren't embarrassing the family name,' it always starts off, then with an added, 'We saw your recent marks, why aren't you doing better.' Usually it was followed by a 'Do better or you'll have Hell to pay,' or a 'No new clothing until you raise your marks.' Pansy always wondered why they thought she cared about her clothes that much. She sometimes wondered why they pretended to care so much about how high her marks were. She was second in Slytherin, only behind Draco. The Parkinsons weren't even that important in the long run. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could care less about her father, about her mother, about her.
Never a 'How are you doing? Is Quidditch going well? Harrassed any Mudbloods today?'
"I'm a big girl Harry, I'll be okay to get back alone! Go meet Malfoy. I'll send the owl to Snuffles, okay? Good! Bye!"
Pansy looked up curiously as Ginny Weasley came into the owlery, giggling and red-faced. She held three pieces of parchment and she was... radiating, that was the only way to describe it.
"Hello Pansy," Ginny grinned, face flushing brighter at the sight of the Slytherin. Pansy was slouching -- mother be damned! Who cared if she didn't use proper manners when alone? -- against the wall, fanning her face with the disregarded letter.
"Hello Weasel," she responded casually. "Off from a make out session with dear Potter?"
Ginny snorted, "Hardly. He wouldn't touch me unless I was the last person on earth, and then, probably from boredom!"
"At least he has taste."
Ginny's eyes narrowed, "Its Malfoy. How is that taste?"
"You'd be surprised how good he is at snogging."
"Please, I feel ill," Ginny said, dramatically throwing her arm over her face. "Not after I just ate."
Pansy sniffed, "Fine. I'm sure Potter will let you in on the secrets someday. Don't worry."
"Ugh," she made a face, "I hope not. But tell me," Ginny eyed her calmly, "who would you tell about Draco to? Besides me, unfortunately."
"I have plenty of people I'd tell," Pansy told her. She didn't, really, but she wasn't one to brag, either. Unless it got her something from the deal. And bragging about Draco? Well, that wasn't really much. Unless you were a jealous first or second year Slytherin.
"Like who?" Ginny looked interested.
"Like I'd tell you," Pansy had to laugh at that. "You're just the scum of the wizarding world."
"I thought that was the Mudbloods." Ginny's eyes widened as soon as the words left her mouth, "I mean, er... the Death Eaters..."
Pansy's eyes were equally wide, "My, my, Weasel... You surprise me yet."
"It isn't really me," Ginny said, weakly. "Sometimes... It's, well... Tom."
"Tom?" Pansy's brow furrowed, "Tom Riddle? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"Yeah," Ginny's expression went almost blank, "He... did something to me. I can sometimes still feel his words, preaching..."
"He wanted you to join him, but you wouldn't, so he brought you to the chamber," Pansy mused.
"Basically, yeah," Ginny nodded. "It's complicated, and I can't remember a lot of it. But I can feel him, and his taunts, and it's all just so messed up, even now."
"No wonder," Pansy breathed, "you haven't told anyone, have you."
Ginny fumbled with the letters in her hands, "No, I haven't. No one would have understood..." her breath caught in her throat, "...I didn't want to say no, but I had to." A tear trickled angrily down her cheek. "I can't change things, then or now, so I try not to think about it. But every once in a while..."
"You could join me," Pansy said, so suddenly, she surprised herself. Ginny blinked at her, mouth opening and closing. "Look, Weasley, I'm not evil, I'm not bad, and I don't hate everyone. I don't believe in His beliefs, but I have my own. Standards everyone should live up to. We could...could... run away, away from here. I don't know. I just... I understand, okay?"
Ginny nodded, slowly. "I like that idea. Away from being Gryffindor, and Slytherin, and every standard there is. Nothing but being witches and not caring who knows."
"Well," Pansy smirked, "I'd like to stay away from muggles. Filthy things, they are. All that killing on purpose... No better than Lord Voldemort," Ginny gasped at his name (some habits were hard to break), "himself. You can tell he's a half blood, that's for sure."
Ginny smiled then. Directly at her and Pansy felt like she'd been ran over. She could hardly breathe. The smile was just so honest and beautiful and just for her. Her eyes were shimmering from the broken moonlight that shone from the open window, that only pronounced the odor of the owls more, and suddenly, Pansy felt alive and open to everything, from the sound of Ginny's breath, the flutter of owl wings, to the wafting odor, that she had just ignored before.
"Thank you," Ginny spoke softly.
Pansy hesitated, but moved closer to her, closing their gap, "Thank you for trusting me with that."
Ginny's breath covered her face, gazes losing their distance, "I could kiss you, you know."
It was an impulsive statement, one that was just there, and Pansy marveled at it.
"I know," she said, "and I you. But it can wait."
'Until you're ready' was left unsaid, because Pansy wasn't sure who it would be directed at.
A loud screech came from above, and a small brown owl came crashing down on Pansy. She clattered to the floor with it, shocked, and looked up at Ginny's giggles.
"Is this your owl that attacked me?!"
"Ron's owl, Pig," Ginny explained, and went to her knees, next to her, collecting the bird. "He, er, gets a tad excited."
Pansy watched with curious eyes, calming, as Ginny cooed at the bird, reprimanding it for 'attacking' Pansy. She looked so... Pansy bit her lip, looking away. Ginny on her knees, with her, alone...
Maybe someday it would be different. And this would actually mean something.
For now, though, she was content on making Ginny her friend. And maybe it would blossom into something else.
---
AUTHOR: Krissy
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and co. belongs to J.K. Rowling.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is for Cassie, who loves Pansy/Ginny as much as me. Love you!
PAIRING(S): Pansy/Ginny, (Draco/Harry), implied Pansy/Draco and Ginny/Harry
RATING: PG-13, at the highest
ARCHIVE: ONLY: snitchfiction, the slytherin princess
She saw red. She wanted to stomp her foot and throw a tantrum. She wanted to tell him, "But, Draco, you're supposed to dance with me tonight," but she didn't and just uttered a goodbye, which went unheard as he was already making his way over to Potter, Weasley, and the Mudblood. Sometimes she wondered if he was in love with one of them or all three, as he spent more time trying to ruin their plans than spending time with her. He claimed to love her. Ha. Some devotion.
"It's probably Potter," she mused, watching the start of yet another verbal attack. She couldn't blame him, really. Harry Potter was nice eye candy. So was Weasley, but she'd be damned to even think that. No Slytherin in their right mind would ever like the Weasel. Poor, pathetic thing. No money and the style to prove it. And she knew it wouldn't, no *couldn't,* be the Mudblood. If it was, oh, Draco'd get an earful from HER.
"It is Harry," a small voice offered, "I caught them making out once in the broom closet."
She had a snarl prepared to greet the speaker, but when she turned, the expression faded from sight. Instead, she frowned, demanding, "What do YOU want?!"
The red haired girl shrugged, "Nothing. I just overheard what you said, and thought I'd tell you."
"Look, Jenny, Ginger, whatever your name is, you are a Weasley. Go away and leave me at peace."
She just looked at her and Pansy looked away, flushing. "My name is Ginny," she informed her. "And I don't want to go away," Ginny gestured towards the punch and cookies on the table next to the Slytherin, "You're standing next to the food."
"Oh," Pansy did have the decency to look slightly ashamed, and moved to the side, letting the younger girl pass. She took that moment to observe the Gryffindor's attire. It looked like the dress robe had seen better days, oh, a decade ago. She bit her lip and frowned. She'd been taught to sneer at the Weasley family since she was little. Whenever the two families were at a social event together, when she was younger, she'd cling to her mother's side, just watching them. Fred and George, those awful twins (thank Merlin they'd left Hogwarts), would always cause some sort of mischief. Whether it be trading identities, or offering one of their special made candies, they'd always have something up their sleeve.
'Now dear,' her mother had said, 'go mingle with the others, but stay away from the Weasleys. They're awful people. No good will come from knowing *those* muggle lovers.'
So she had. She'd held Draco's hand while he 'protected' her, assuring her he'd keep her away from the Weasley prats. They'd only been eight at the time but she knew they'd fall in love one day. It was just expected of them and how things would be. She had once noticed Ginny clinging to her own mother's side. She was a year younger than her and Draco, but was very cute in her own way. She had this; well she wouldn't identify it until she was older, thing that just spoke volumes of how innocent she was. Like nothing evil had ever touched her. Her aura maybe? Pansy didn't know. She'd refused to take Divination and didn't bother knowing the facts. It was a silly thing anyway.
And, Pansy knew, she never had. Maybe that was why she had suggested Ginny to Draco their second year. Lucius had entrusted him to choose a first year to slip the diary to. He had wanted to give it to Colin, but Pansy knew better. Creevey would have given it to Harry within a second, but she had told him Ginny. She was overlooked, no matter how hard she tried, and no one would have believed her until it was too late. So why not? Lucius had loved the idea and praised both of them, even acknowledging Pansy's part in the idea (then, Pansy thought sadly, Draco had thought the world of her. How things changed.).
"Pansy?"
Pansy turned and looked at her, not saying anything. Ginny opened her mouth and shut it, unsure of what to say. Pansy snorted as she watched. She looked so childish, just wringing her hands on the edge of her robes.
"Continue to do that and you'll rip the threads," she idly commented. Ginny's hands dropped to her side and she brushed past the blonde towards the table. Her brown eyes searched the brightly decorated candies and cookies, but flicked back towards the Slytherin every few seconds.
"What?" Pansy snapped, obviously annoyed. The girl didn't say anything, which increased her annoyance, almost ten fold. Pansy suppressed a sigh. She shouldn't have come to this. It was just a bad idea. Draco had paraded her around the room, and then took a beeline towards Potter and his cronies. Ginny, at the time, had been draped around Harry's waist, his own trophy for all to see. "Why do you let him use you?"
The question startled the red-head and Ginny's attention swiveled back to the pug-faced girl. "Er, pardon?"
"Potter," Pansy said the name with great distaste. "I saw how you came in here. Why pretend. He obviously doesn't care, and according to you, you *knew* that already."
"I'm a cover, besides," she smirked (actually smirked! Pansy gaped at her.) and responded with, "Why do you let Malfoy use *you*?"
"I love him," she said simply. She wasn't afraid of admitting this. Draco knew this, Millicent knew this, hell, Crabbe and Goyle knew it. She wasn't surprised if everyone else knew it, too. "Do you love Potter?"
"No," the answer was just as simple and made Pansy pause. She seemed so sure, but she remembered watching how the girl would be daydreaming for hours over the years. Sometimes she'd be in the library, doodling hearts with green ink. Obviously for Potter's emerald (how she loathed listening to his fangirls beam about his 'perfect, emerald eyes.' ) eyes, the glistening orbs.
"Why?" she demanded. "I don't understand. You seemed so smitten, so," she wrinkled her nose, "in love with him."
"Looks can be deceiving," she reminded her. "Who would have thought that you, so belittling and cruel, actually loved Malfoy?"
Pansy sneered, "I'm a Slytherin. We all act that way."
"Malfoy acts that way, and he really *does* hate you," Ginny replied. Pansy opened her mouth to reply, but Ginny cut her off. "You know it's true. Don't deny it. Malfoy talks, anyway, and tells Harry loads of stuff that he tells us."
I should mention that to Draco, Pansy thought snidely. Her eyes narrowed, "Why would Potter tell *you* things?"
"I'm his friend," Ginny told her. "We talk. Have you ever just *talked* to Malfoy? Do you even have any friends, Pansy?"
Pansy watched as the Gryffindor strolled away, rejoining her friends. And she wondered about her words. *Did* she have any friends?
"Slytherins don't need friends," she told herself. But why did she sound so unsure?
---
"I saw you talking to She-Weasel yesterday."
Pansy barely looked up from her text book, but nodded to Draco's question. "I did," she acknowledged, placing her Quill into the book as a bookmarker.
"Now why would you, a Slytherin, be talking to a Muggle-loving Weasel?"
"She asked for my dress designer," Pansy deadpanned, her face serious.
Draco eyed her for a second before bursting into laughter. "That's a good one, Pansy!" his face turned sneeringly again, "She'd never be able to afford your designer. Even if she saved for the rest of her life!"
Pansy shrugged. "Remind her then. I'm sure she needs to be brought down a peg or two. After all, she thinks Potter loves her. Like Potter would love anything like her. He only likes sniveling idiots, it seems."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
Pansy raised an eyebrow. Hmm, maybe Ginny was right, she thought and held back a snort of laughter. Oh, even if she thought she loved him, this was too good. "Well, he seems to have caught Colin Creepy's eye, and you know how much the kid hero-worshipped him a few years ago. If you don't lick his feet, he obviously hates you."
"Shut up, Parkinson, you don't know what you're talking about," he sneered.
"Oh, but I do, Malfoy. So, it's true."
"What's true?"
"You love Potter," she nearly chortled. "Oh, this is too good."
Draco's face paled and he angrily spat, "You have no idea what you're talking about! I don't love anything. I'd like to see him dead more than anyone."
"Oh, but there's a fine line between love and hate," she drawled. "Even someone as thick as you have to see it."
"All I can see is my fist in your face in five seconds," Draco hissed. "I have to go, because I'm tutoring someone for Snape, but we'll finish this discussion later."
"Oh, you can count on it," Pansy promised as she watched him stalk from the room. "Ah, he has it so bad."
"Who has it bad?" Millicent Bulstrode joined the blonde at the table. They were in the corner of the common room of the dungeon, and Pansy was surrounded by books. She hated this time of the year most. Studying really hard and taking tests. But, she reflected, it was all worth it in the end when she had two weeks off to do nothing.
"Malfoy," Pansy explained, "he's in love with Potter."
"Old news," the black haired girl giggled. "Crabbe and Goyle walked in on them last week and they were sworn to secrecy, after they told me, of course."
"Of course," Pansy grinned. Her grin twisted into a pout, "Why didn't you tell me?!"
"I don't gossip," Millicent protested, "I only agree if someone else finds out."
"Hmm," Pansy eyed her carefully, but she knew it was true. "Millicent," she said unexpectedly, "do you think of us as friends?"
Millicent blinked, "Yes, of course, Pansy."
"Close friends?" she persisted.
"Um," Millicent blinked again, "honestly?"
"Yes," Pansy said primly.
"Honestly, no," she admitted, "I wouldn't ever tell you one of my secrets, and I know you wouldn't tell me one. I don't think either of us *could* learn to trust one another."
Pansy nodded. It was true. If she had a choice, she'd rather die with her secrets, than to tell Millicent, or Queenie Greengrass, or Blaise Zabini, or even Draco! "Thank you for your honesty," Pansy told her. It seemed almost sad how they were reduced down to this. Although, Pansy reflected, they were probably closer than she would be with anyone.
---
Pansy studied the parchment with practiced indifference. Oh, how she hated receiving owls from home.
'Hope you aren't embarrassing the family name,' it always starts off, then with an added, 'We saw your recent marks, why aren't you doing better.' Usually it was followed by a 'Do better or you'll have Hell to pay,' or a 'No new clothing until you raise your marks.' Pansy always wondered why they thought she cared about her clothes that much. She sometimes wondered why they pretended to care so much about how high her marks were. She was second in Slytherin, only behind Draco. The Parkinsons weren't even that important in the long run. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could care less about her father, about her mother, about her.
Never a 'How are you doing? Is Quidditch going well? Harrassed any Mudbloods today?'
"I'm a big girl Harry, I'll be okay to get back alone! Go meet Malfoy. I'll send the owl to Snuffles, okay? Good! Bye!"
Pansy looked up curiously as Ginny Weasley came into the owlery, giggling and red-faced. She held three pieces of parchment and she was... radiating, that was the only way to describe it.
"Hello Pansy," Ginny grinned, face flushing brighter at the sight of the Slytherin. Pansy was slouching -- mother be damned! Who cared if she didn't use proper manners when alone? -- against the wall, fanning her face with the disregarded letter.
"Hello Weasel," she responded casually. "Off from a make out session with dear Potter?"
Ginny snorted, "Hardly. He wouldn't touch me unless I was the last person on earth, and then, probably from boredom!"
"At least he has taste."
Ginny's eyes narrowed, "Its Malfoy. How is that taste?"
"You'd be surprised how good he is at snogging."
"Please, I feel ill," Ginny said, dramatically throwing her arm over her face. "Not after I just ate."
Pansy sniffed, "Fine. I'm sure Potter will let you in on the secrets someday. Don't worry."
"Ugh," she made a face, "I hope not. But tell me," Ginny eyed her calmly, "who would you tell about Draco to? Besides me, unfortunately."
"I have plenty of people I'd tell," Pansy told her. She didn't, really, but she wasn't one to brag, either. Unless it got her something from the deal. And bragging about Draco? Well, that wasn't really much. Unless you were a jealous first or second year Slytherin.
"Like who?" Ginny looked interested.
"Like I'd tell you," Pansy had to laugh at that. "You're just the scum of the wizarding world."
"I thought that was the Mudbloods." Ginny's eyes widened as soon as the words left her mouth, "I mean, er... the Death Eaters..."
Pansy's eyes were equally wide, "My, my, Weasel... You surprise me yet."
"It isn't really me," Ginny said, weakly. "Sometimes... It's, well... Tom."
"Tom?" Pansy's brow furrowed, "Tom Riddle? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"Yeah," Ginny's expression went almost blank, "He... did something to me. I can sometimes still feel his words, preaching..."
"He wanted you to join him, but you wouldn't, so he brought you to the chamber," Pansy mused.
"Basically, yeah," Ginny nodded. "It's complicated, and I can't remember a lot of it. But I can feel him, and his taunts, and it's all just so messed up, even now."
"No wonder," Pansy breathed, "you haven't told anyone, have you."
Ginny fumbled with the letters in her hands, "No, I haven't. No one would have understood..." her breath caught in her throat, "...I didn't want to say no, but I had to." A tear trickled angrily down her cheek. "I can't change things, then or now, so I try not to think about it. But every once in a while..."
"You could join me," Pansy said, so suddenly, she surprised herself. Ginny blinked at her, mouth opening and closing. "Look, Weasley, I'm not evil, I'm not bad, and I don't hate everyone. I don't believe in His beliefs, but I have my own. Standards everyone should live up to. We could...could... run away, away from here. I don't know. I just... I understand, okay?"
Ginny nodded, slowly. "I like that idea. Away from being Gryffindor, and Slytherin, and every standard there is. Nothing but being witches and not caring who knows."
"Well," Pansy smirked, "I'd like to stay away from muggles. Filthy things, they are. All that killing on purpose... No better than Lord Voldemort," Ginny gasped at his name (some habits were hard to break), "himself. You can tell he's a half blood, that's for sure."
Ginny smiled then. Directly at her and Pansy felt like she'd been ran over. She could hardly breathe. The smile was just so honest and beautiful and just for her. Her eyes were shimmering from the broken moonlight that shone from the open window, that only pronounced the odor of the owls more, and suddenly, Pansy felt alive and open to everything, from the sound of Ginny's breath, the flutter of owl wings, to the wafting odor, that she had just ignored before.
"Thank you," Ginny spoke softly.
Pansy hesitated, but moved closer to her, closing their gap, "Thank you for trusting me with that."
Ginny's breath covered her face, gazes losing their distance, "I could kiss you, you know."
It was an impulsive statement, one that was just there, and Pansy marveled at it.
"I know," she said, "and I you. But it can wait."
'Until you're ready' was left unsaid, because Pansy wasn't sure who it would be directed at.
A loud screech came from above, and a small brown owl came crashing down on Pansy. She clattered to the floor with it, shocked, and looked up at Ginny's giggles.
"Is this your owl that attacked me?!"
"Ron's owl, Pig," Ginny explained, and went to her knees, next to her, collecting the bird. "He, er, gets a tad excited."
Pansy watched with curious eyes, calming, as Ginny cooed at the bird, reprimanding it for 'attacking' Pansy. She looked so... Pansy bit her lip, looking away. Ginny on her knees, with her, alone...
Maybe someday it would be different. And this would actually mean something.
For now, though, she was content on making Ginny her friend. And maybe it would blossom into something else.
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