Perfection
by: epiphanies
One-short (My version of one-shot ficlets)
They're perfect. They're tiny and ruthless and beautiful. They're blonde and pale and soft and lovely. They both have eyes of pale steel.
Perfection.
They could be brother and sister or cousins or married or something. Best friends, lovers, whatever they may be, they're just absolutely fitting to one another. And I don't think that will ever change, either.
I should know. I mean, I'm not close to them or anything, but I'm around a lot. I'm in their school house, my parents know theirs, we went to day-care together. And they've never changed. They even look the same way they did ten years ago.
And they're never apart. Honestly, they wait outside the lavs for each other and whisper goodnights as they fall asleep, even though they're not in the same room. Or at least she does. And I once said "Pansy, I don't think he can hear you," and she said "Shut up, Millicent."
They were introduced as children and never have I met anybody I could come to adore as they adore each other. Even though I'm sure the words "adore" and "love" have never escaped their lips.
And they joke and he calls her a fat ugly cow, and she calls him "Mister Tortured Soul" and they laugh because they're joking. Except when they're not. But they still laugh.
They wrote letters to Umbridge for months after she left Hogwarts, begging her to come back, that they would help her overthrow Dumbledore. I heard them say that they supposed she was too afraid of the centaurs to return. I think that they were disappointed, but their feelings were obviously not hurt. Not like there were feelings to hurt.
Sometimes they lock themselves in Draco's dormitory and blast music with lyrics that would make their Death Eater parents cringe, and sometimes I walk into the dorm to find Pansy laying on her stomach, reading books with titles like "King Lear" and "Macbeth." I don't know what they are, but they're not assigned texts, and Pansy isn't the kind of girl who reads for fun, you know.
They always walk into Potions late, with that walk of theirs, the one with the graceful strides and straight backs that were just relaxed enough to make them look the epitome of cool. And the coolest thing about it was that they two had been up earlier than any of us and everyone knew that they'd just spent the past ten minutes snogging in Myrtles's Lav right around the corner to waste time so that, when they did get to class, the Gryffindors would get in trouble for calling Snape unfair.
And no matter how hard you try, you can't hang out with them. It's not as if they're unfriendly, at least to other Slytherins, but they are so close. Nobody is like them. Imitation is impossible. Fitting in is even more so. They're in their own little club, and nobody can invade. Even with initiation. They're best friends, lovers, bonded, family.
Perfection.
