Authors Note: Fun stuff, eh? Lol. Draco/Pansy you just have to love it, you really do. This one's sort of love/hate type of thing. But I do like it. Boys are tactless so Draco calling Pansy ugly is just, in my 'professional' opinion boy/girl friendship stuff. ;). You know how those pesky guy friends are!
Disclaimer: Just JK's.
;)
*
He didn't like her much now.
She, 'she' being Pansy Parkinson was being ridiculous. She expected HIM to apologize to HER.
So he had called her ugly. Big stinkin' deal, like that didn't happen all the time. But they were older now, and things always meant more when you were older.
"Draco!" She screeched. "You're being unfair."
"The world is an unfair place, love," he had said his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Yeah well it will be more unfair with this!" She yelled as she slammed the dormitory door in his pale face.
He had raised his eyebrows, sighed, and went back down the stairs.
She fumed. Then she kicked a door, which ended up practically killing her toe, which she nursed back to health. She still has the scar, too. After this she insisted on giving herself a pretty french manicure and then throwing herself on her bed, angry.
No, not hurt. Angry. Mad. Furious. Fuming. Irate. And even though she didn't want him totally kissing up to her, that, that was out of hand and oh it was totally WRONG.
And Pansy, being the person that she is, is very comfortable with anger. And with no other emotion. So she was angry. At him.
And she wanted him to die.
Draco Malfoy was supposed to be a charmer, he was supposed to call her beautiful and stunning and gorgeous. Just to get her to snog him, but still. It was the point of the matter, really. Now her best friend for 'ages' was acting like a complete prat. Which was normal, really. And she didn't feel like going through the effort of finding a whole new friend so she had to stay with him. Or be alone. Which was far more frightening.
Part of her expected him to come upstairs and apologize, although that really wouldn't help the matter. And part of her knew that he would never ever bring himself to that level.
"Uh, Pansy?" Millicent Bulstrode said as she saw the girl looking furious as she crushed up an old note.
"What do you want Mill?" And her voice was like a sharp dagger.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, sure," she said with a sharp look at the bigger girl.
Millicent soon left the room; obviously nervous about what an angry Pansy was capable of. A lot.
Beauty was the one thing she had going for her.
She couldn't write for beans, her handwriting was appalling, her father was a pureblood and rich, but that didn't mean anything to Draco. She wasn't intelligent or poised and she wasn't a sweetheart.
But she was stunning.
With ruby eyes with yellow swirls in the middle, and delicate feet that fit into any glass slipper. Petite with ebony hair hanging in loose braids.
She was stunning.
And it was her thing; her forte and she must stick to it.
"Ugh!" She yelled, to no one in particular. "Ugh!"
Mad.
Still.
Five hours later.
At 1 AM she finally got to sleep after yelling her little heart out. It was this unexplainable feeling of anger in the bottom of her tiny heart, the feeling of being betrayed.
Betrayed.
But she went to sleep, coughing and sputtering and yelling all the way. Her voice was hoarse come next morning. When she woke up she saw a fair-haired boy on the floor he was covered in a patchwork blanket. And she stepped on him, "accidentally" of course.
He quickly sat up and she screamed bloody murder.
"Get out!" She yelled. "Get out you tyrant. This is the girls dormitory, have you no class?"
He glanced at her, tucked his hands in his pocket, and glared. "Funny...you calling me a tyrant and all."
"Just leave! Bloody leave! I'll tell Snape. And you KNOW how he is about these boy girl issues," her voice is harsh. Like sugar being poured over rocks.
"You wouldn't," he says contemptuously, "you don't have it in you."
"You'd be surprised," she says.
"Probably not."
"Leave, okay?" She says, her voice more pleading than anything. "I'll gouge your eyes out in a sec. Really I will. Do not doubt me Draco Malfoy."
"Bébé," he says, with a slight roll of his diamond eyes. "Stop."
"Oh, so now I'm 'baby' and now I have to 'stop'?" She asks, translating his French in a nasty tone. "Yeah bloody right."
"I don't, I wouldn't--"
"Oh you did," she said, her voice hollow. "And I don't think I shall ever forgive you for the rest of my years."
And of course it comes out as bitter.
"You don't have to," he spits.
"I should though, shouldn't I?" She says, her voice softer.
"You shouldn't do anything you don't want to do," he says as he sits back on the plush carpet.
And she probably wouldn't anyway. She sits back on her bed and adjusts the nightgown.
"Sometimes, you must," she says cryptically and smiles slightly. "But I'm just ugly, so what would I know?
Resentment.
"Not much," he chuckles dryly and looks at her expression, "kidding, Cee. Kidding."
"If I am ugly than what use am I?" She says seriously.
"If you were ugly you'd be of no use," he says, "but you aren't awful to look at."
"Well thanks," she replies caustically. "Just leave, Nolan. Just bloody leave."
"I don't have to," he says coolly, "and I won't."
Her anger remains inside of her--of course it does. She still feels the same anger she did when she was five and told she was no Princess.
"I'll hex you to death," she says with a nod.
"No you won't," he says, taking out his wand. "I'm telling you, Cee. You're a child, you're fourteen you can't do deathly spells."
"You'll see," she gritted out.
He laughs at her boldness.
"Come on now, Cee," he persuades, "don't be like that."
And she smiles at the boyish expression on his face but does not give in.
"I'll be how I please."
"Oh please," he says, trying to spare himself from the drama.
She looks furiously at him and throws the covers over her. A pout on her slightly red face. "You don't really care about me," she says.
"Of course I don't," he says, "I've spent four years in absolute awful-ness with you and I don't care about you or even sort of like you. I've put up with you, I've run after you, I've broke Blaise's nose for you, and I probably don't care about you. And I probably never will," his voice is sarcastic and she frowns.
"It's not okay for you to call me ugly," she says with a short nod.
"It doesn't have to be okay."
Once again she points solemnly to the door, "go to breakfast. Have cold oatmeal fights with Millicent or Blaise or even some random Gryffindor. Go to lessons. Potion's first, remember? Walk with Millicent or whatever. And go the secret way you and I used to always go too, why don't you? Then, when you're there peck Millicent on the cheek and call her a 'doll' then smile to yourself, okay? Then go die."
And she knew she was being overly dramatic but frankly did not care.
"But you aren't Millicent," he said dully.
"Oh she's good enough," says she bitterly.
"No, no, I don't think so."
Silence.
"Are you hurt or am I just imagining something?" He says, after moments of cold silence.
"Hurt? Yeah. I'm real hurt," laden with sarcasm, again.
"I--" he says "--I think you are. When you're angry," he says, "you always make me stay with you while you yell really loud in my face. And now, now you just want me to go 'way."
"Oh yeah," she says, "and you know me so well too."
He hugs his knees, "yeah, I do."
"If you're hurt you can just tell me," he says, still condescending. "Like that time when Blaise tripped you. I had to literally hex the truth out of you. But it didn't have to be that way. You could've just...told me."
"I'm angry," she says succinctly.
"Okay," he says, disbelieving. "Just remember, Bébé, I'm quite perceptive."
"Will do," she says coldly. "Go."
So finally he begins to open the door just a crack and she jumps out of bed.
"No!" She yells. "No, no, I don't want you to go--" and she doesn't like saying this, but... "--I'd miss you too much."
He smiles and wraps his arms around her and whispers in her ear: "You're stunning, Cee."
"You worthless kiss-up," she says with a small smile.
"You're pathetic, you know that?" He asks.
"Probably," she smiles.
And they share a moment.
And sometimes...sometimes friendship was real good
~*~
La Fin
Disclaimer: Just JK's.
;)
*
He didn't like her much now.
She, 'she' being Pansy Parkinson was being ridiculous. She expected HIM to apologize to HER.
So he had called her ugly. Big stinkin' deal, like that didn't happen all the time. But they were older now, and things always meant more when you were older.
"Draco!" She screeched. "You're being unfair."
"The world is an unfair place, love," he had said his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Yeah well it will be more unfair with this!" She yelled as she slammed the dormitory door in his pale face.
He had raised his eyebrows, sighed, and went back down the stairs.
She fumed. Then she kicked a door, which ended up practically killing her toe, which she nursed back to health. She still has the scar, too. After this she insisted on giving herself a pretty french manicure and then throwing herself on her bed, angry.
No, not hurt. Angry. Mad. Furious. Fuming. Irate. And even though she didn't want him totally kissing up to her, that, that was out of hand and oh it was totally WRONG.
And Pansy, being the person that she is, is very comfortable with anger. And with no other emotion. So she was angry. At him.
And she wanted him to die.
Draco Malfoy was supposed to be a charmer, he was supposed to call her beautiful and stunning and gorgeous. Just to get her to snog him, but still. It was the point of the matter, really. Now her best friend for 'ages' was acting like a complete prat. Which was normal, really. And she didn't feel like going through the effort of finding a whole new friend so she had to stay with him. Or be alone. Which was far more frightening.
Part of her expected him to come upstairs and apologize, although that really wouldn't help the matter. And part of her knew that he would never ever bring himself to that level.
"Uh, Pansy?" Millicent Bulstrode said as she saw the girl looking furious as she crushed up an old note.
"What do you want Mill?" And her voice was like a sharp dagger.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, sure," she said with a sharp look at the bigger girl.
Millicent soon left the room; obviously nervous about what an angry Pansy was capable of. A lot.
Beauty was the one thing she had going for her.
She couldn't write for beans, her handwriting was appalling, her father was a pureblood and rich, but that didn't mean anything to Draco. She wasn't intelligent or poised and she wasn't a sweetheart.
But she was stunning.
With ruby eyes with yellow swirls in the middle, and delicate feet that fit into any glass slipper. Petite with ebony hair hanging in loose braids.
She was stunning.
And it was her thing; her forte and she must stick to it.
"Ugh!" She yelled, to no one in particular. "Ugh!"
Mad.
Still.
Five hours later.
At 1 AM she finally got to sleep after yelling her little heart out. It was this unexplainable feeling of anger in the bottom of her tiny heart, the feeling of being betrayed.
Betrayed.
But she went to sleep, coughing and sputtering and yelling all the way. Her voice was hoarse come next morning. When she woke up she saw a fair-haired boy on the floor he was covered in a patchwork blanket. And she stepped on him, "accidentally" of course.
He quickly sat up and she screamed bloody murder.
"Get out!" She yelled. "Get out you tyrant. This is the girls dormitory, have you no class?"
He glanced at her, tucked his hands in his pocket, and glared. "Funny...you calling me a tyrant and all."
"Just leave! Bloody leave! I'll tell Snape. And you KNOW how he is about these boy girl issues," her voice is harsh. Like sugar being poured over rocks.
"You wouldn't," he says contemptuously, "you don't have it in you."
"You'd be surprised," she says.
"Probably not."
"Leave, okay?" She says, her voice more pleading than anything. "I'll gouge your eyes out in a sec. Really I will. Do not doubt me Draco Malfoy."
"Bébé," he says, with a slight roll of his diamond eyes. "Stop."
"Oh, so now I'm 'baby' and now I have to 'stop'?" She asks, translating his French in a nasty tone. "Yeah bloody right."
"I don't, I wouldn't--"
"Oh you did," she said, her voice hollow. "And I don't think I shall ever forgive you for the rest of my years."
And of course it comes out as bitter.
"You don't have to," he spits.
"I should though, shouldn't I?" She says, her voice softer.
"You shouldn't do anything you don't want to do," he says as he sits back on the plush carpet.
And she probably wouldn't anyway. She sits back on her bed and adjusts the nightgown.
"Sometimes, you must," she says cryptically and smiles slightly. "But I'm just ugly, so what would I know?
Resentment.
"Not much," he chuckles dryly and looks at her expression, "kidding, Cee. Kidding."
"If I am ugly than what use am I?" She says seriously.
"If you were ugly you'd be of no use," he says, "but you aren't awful to look at."
"Well thanks," she replies caustically. "Just leave, Nolan. Just bloody leave."
"I don't have to," he says coolly, "and I won't."
Her anger remains inside of her--of course it does. She still feels the same anger she did when she was five and told she was no Princess.
"I'll hex you to death," she says with a nod.
"No you won't," he says, taking out his wand. "I'm telling you, Cee. You're a child, you're fourteen you can't do deathly spells."
"You'll see," she gritted out.
He laughs at her boldness.
"Come on now, Cee," he persuades, "don't be like that."
And she smiles at the boyish expression on his face but does not give in.
"I'll be how I please."
"Oh please," he says, trying to spare himself from the drama.
She looks furiously at him and throws the covers over her. A pout on her slightly red face. "You don't really care about me," she says.
"Of course I don't," he says, "I've spent four years in absolute awful-ness with you and I don't care about you or even sort of like you. I've put up with you, I've run after you, I've broke Blaise's nose for you, and I probably don't care about you. And I probably never will," his voice is sarcastic and she frowns.
"It's not okay for you to call me ugly," she says with a short nod.
"It doesn't have to be okay."
Once again she points solemnly to the door, "go to breakfast. Have cold oatmeal fights with Millicent or Blaise or even some random Gryffindor. Go to lessons. Potion's first, remember? Walk with Millicent or whatever. And go the secret way you and I used to always go too, why don't you? Then, when you're there peck Millicent on the cheek and call her a 'doll' then smile to yourself, okay? Then go die."
And she knew she was being overly dramatic but frankly did not care.
"But you aren't Millicent," he said dully.
"Oh she's good enough," says she bitterly.
"No, no, I don't think so."
Silence.
"Are you hurt or am I just imagining something?" He says, after moments of cold silence.
"Hurt? Yeah. I'm real hurt," laden with sarcasm, again.
"I--" he says "--I think you are. When you're angry," he says, "you always make me stay with you while you yell really loud in my face. And now, now you just want me to go 'way."
"Oh yeah," she says, "and you know me so well too."
He hugs his knees, "yeah, I do."
"If you're hurt you can just tell me," he says, still condescending. "Like that time when Blaise tripped you. I had to literally hex the truth out of you. But it didn't have to be that way. You could've just...told me."
"I'm angry," she says succinctly.
"Okay," he says, disbelieving. "Just remember, Bébé, I'm quite perceptive."
"Will do," she says coldly. "Go."
So finally he begins to open the door just a crack and she jumps out of bed.
"No!" She yells. "No, no, I don't want you to go--" and she doesn't like saying this, but... "--I'd miss you too much."
He smiles and wraps his arms around her and whispers in her ear: "You're stunning, Cee."
"You worthless kiss-up," she says with a small smile.
"You're pathetic, you know that?" He asks.
"Probably," she smiles.
And they share a moment.
And sometimes...sometimes friendship was real good
~*~
La Fin
