Authors Note: DO forgive me; I have no clue what I'm doing! =D But I feel
like writing, thus this little uh 'piece.' As far as characterization
goes, I dunno, I think when someone gets punched in the face they're
'humbled' to say the least, and I would say a bit 'vulnerable' as well,
Draco isn't up to witty repartee or anything. Pansy's a tough one.
Just a short, sweet Draco/Pansy deal, more friendship than anything though. Draco's seventeen and Pansy's sixteen.
Disclaimer: Characters, objects, and places that you recognize are JK Rowling's, of course.
~*~
It was just something you -did-.
And you did it, even if you didn't feel like it. Even if you were scared and afraid, even if you were crying and shouting.
You just did it.
Her Mother always said that you "summon up strength from odd places, places you didn't even know were there." But Pansy never believed that, not really anyway. She'd always insisted that strength just-
Was.
It just was and you can't summon something that's been there all along.
But that's enough of that.
She had always taken a special liking to him, one that couldn't quite be explained. And on the night that she saw him on the green bench outside his manor, this welling of pain came over her. She immediately ran to him, throwing her scarlet cloak over his shoulders, 'he looked cold.'
"I'm fine, Cee," he said, "fine. Just go 'way, your parents will worry."
"No," she said firmly, "I won't go."
"You don't have to play noble," was the simple response, "I don't appreciate it and I know that you're a Slytherin at 'heart' or can you even call it that?"
"Of course I'm a Slytherin," she replied proudly, "and don't you forget it."
He chuckled to himself and then went into brief silence. The first two buttons of his red polo shirt were unbuttoned and his dark black slacks were rolled up to his ankles. The scarlet cloak hung loosely to his shoulders.
"I won't," he said, "and I didn't."
She glanced over at his black eye and instantly knew what had happened. His Father had hit him in a spurt of rage; Draco had probably made some 'smart-aleck' comment that made his Father tick.
"I'm sorry," she said throwing her curly ebony locks over her shoulder.
"You shouldn't be," he said simply.
"No," she agreed, "I shouldn't be. But I am, because that's the way I am."
He chuckled softly to himself as he pressed ice on the black eye, "You aren't like that, Pansy. You aren't caring or kind or compassionate or-" he paused "-Heaven forbid, motherly. You aren't like that."
"Is that what you want? You don't want some-" she rolled her eyes "- little darling, do you?"
"Well, if I had to choose between the epitome of evil-" he shot her a look "-or some 'darling' who cooked me supper, well, then-"
"You're SO sexist," she chastised.
"You're SO used to it. With your Father treating your Mother as though she's some-"
"Don't even say it." She straightened out her concrete colored skirt and added, "lemme see your eye."
"I'm fine," he said, "don't worry. My eye's fine, it's just a bit purple, like an off-colored 'Bertie Bott's every color bean' or something."
"Really," she said, gently removing the bag of ice from his eye. He winced as she gently trailed the bruise with a French-manicured finger. "It looks awful."
"Does it? Since when did you become some sort of fashion or cosmetic consultant?"
"I'm not the one with the black eye," she said wanly, and then instantly felt sorry.
"No," he said, "I would certainly hope not." "I didn't it mean it like that, I just meant-"
"Don't worry about it."
"I am."
"You shouldn't," he said.
"What'd you say this time?" She asked kindly taking her hand away from the black eye.
"Oh something mocking Voldemort or maybe it was the fact that I stole his 'secret store' of Ogden's Fire Whiskey or something like that," he said, his voice not showing the least bit or remorse.
"Oh," she said, "really. Ogden's is pretty good," she said.
"You drink that stuff?"
"Sometimes," she said, "when I'm sad."
"My, my, my," he said in a caustic tone, "my little Cee gets sad?"
"Yes," she said coldly. "Would you like some?"
"Some what?" He asked suggestively.
She laughed coolly. "Ogden's you nutter."
"Mmmhmm. I'd like some. Pity I can't get into the Manor."
She pulled a bottle of red liquid out from behind her back, "I figured." She said.
Pansy handed the bottle over to Draco as he pulled off the cap and took a long swig. "It still got the kick," he said.
"It's supposed to," she said.
"Want some?" He asked as he passed the bottle over to his friend who was also sitting on the ancient bench.
"Sure," she said taking a swig. "Still got the kick."
"It's supposed to," he mimicked her.
"How's the eye?" She asked.
"Fine."
"No, really how's the eye?"
"Oh I'm so miserable," he moaned, "I loathe this and I loathe him and my heart hurts."
She knew he was being sarcastic so she merely kissed him on the cheek and stood up from the bench. "Be okay, alright?"
"Alright," he said.
"And Draco," she said throwing him the half finished bottle nonchalantly "don't get too drunk, especially not without me."
She winked.
And with his left black eye, he winked back.
~*~
La Fin.
Just a short, sweet Draco/Pansy deal, more friendship than anything though. Draco's seventeen and Pansy's sixteen.
Disclaimer: Characters, objects, and places that you recognize are JK Rowling's, of course.
~*~
It was just something you -did-.
And you did it, even if you didn't feel like it. Even if you were scared and afraid, even if you were crying and shouting.
You just did it.
Her Mother always said that you "summon up strength from odd places, places you didn't even know were there." But Pansy never believed that, not really anyway. She'd always insisted that strength just-
Was.
It just was and you can't summon something that's been there all along.
But that's enough of that.
She had always taken a special liking to him, one that couldn't quite be explained. And on the night that she saw him on the green bench outside his manor, this welling of pain came over her. She immediately ran to him, throwing her scarlet cloak over his shoulders, 'he looked cold.'
"I'm fine, Cee," he said, "fine. Just go 'way, your parents will worry."
"No," she said firmly, "I won't go."
"You don't have to play noble," was the simple response, "I don't appreciate it and I know that you're a Slytherin at 'heart' or can you even call it that?"
"Of course I'm a Slytherin," she replied proudly, "and don't you forget it."
He chuckled to himself and then went into brief silence. The first two buttons of his red polo shirt were unbuttoned and his dark black slacks were rolled up to his ankles. The scarlet cloak hung loosely to his shoulders.
"I won't," he said, "and I didn't."
She glanced over at his black eye and instantly knew what had happened. His Father had hit him in a spurt of rage; Draco had probably made some 'smart-aleck' comment that made his Father tick.
"I'm sorry," she said throwing her curly ebony locks over her shoulder.
"You shouldn't be," he said simply.
"No," she agreed, "I shouldn't be. But I am, because that's the way I am."
He chuckled softly to himself as he pressed ice on the black eye, "You aren't like that, Pansy. You aren't caring or kind or compassionate or-" he paused "-Heaven forbid, motherly. You aren't like that."
"Is that what you want? You don't want some-" she rolled her eyes "- little darling, do you?"
"Well, if I had to choose between the epitome of evil-" he shot her a look "-or some 'darling' who cooked me supper, well, then-"
"You're SO sexist," she chastised.
"You're SO used to it. With your Father treating your Mother as though she's some-"
"Don't even say it." She straightened out her concrete colored skirt and added, "lemme see your eye."
"I'm fine," he said, "don't worry. My eye's fine, it's just a bit purple, like an off-colored 'Bertie Bott's every color bean' or something."
"Really," she said, gently removing the bag of ice from his eye. He winced as she gently trailed the bruise with a French-manicured finger. "It looks awful."
"Does it? Since when did you become some sort of fashion or cosmetic consultant?"
"I'm not the one with the black eye," she said wanly, and then instantly felt sorry.
"No," he said, "I would certainly hope not." "I didn't it mean it like that, I just meant-"
"Don't worry about it."
"I am."
"You shouldn't," he said.
"What'd you say this time?" She asked kindly taking her hand away from the black eye.
"Oh something mocking Voldemort or maybe it was the fact that I stole his 'secret store' of Ogden's Fire Whiskey or something like that," he said, his voice not showing the least bit or remorse.
"Oh," she said, "really. Ogden's is pretty good," she said.
"You drink that stuff?"
"Sometimes," she said, "when I'm sad."
"My, my, my," he said in a caustic tone, "my little Cee gets sad?"
"Yes," she said coldly. "Would you like some?"
"Some what?" He asked suggestively.
She laughed coolly. "Ogden's you nutter."
"Mmmhmm. I'd like some. Pity I can't get into the Manor."
She pulled a bottle of red liquid out from behind her back, "I figured." She said.
Pansy handed the bottle over to Draco as he pulled off the cap and took a long swig. "It still got the kick," he said.
"It's supposed to," she said.
"Want some?" He asked as he passed the bottle over to his friend who was also sitting on the ancient bench.
"Sure," she said taking a swig. "Still got the kick."
"It's supposed to," he mimicked her.
"How's the eye?" She asked.
"Fine."
"No, really how's the eye?"
"Oh I'm so miserable," he moaned, "I loathe this and I loathe him and my heart hurts."
She knew he was being sarcastic so she merely kissed him on the cheek and stood up from the bench. "Be okay, alright?"
"Alright," he said.
"And Draco," she said throwing him the half finished bottle nonchalantly "don't get too drunk, especially not without me."
She winked.
And with his left black eye, he winked back.
~*~
La Fin.