Chapter Two: An Apology Not Accepted

Tap on my window, knock on my door

I want to make you feel beautiful

I know I tend to get so insecure

It doesn't matter anymore

-- She Will Be Loved, Maroon 5

"Of course I shouldn't feel horrible," Draco reasoned as he returned to his own home. "But if I shouldn't feel horrible, why do I feel horrible about not feeling horrible?" Draco asked him, pulling a chair out from under a table and sitting down. "Or maybe I am feeling horrible about it, but I just think I'm feeling horrible about not feeling horrible about it? Oh, sod off you stupid lug of a brain, there's no need for you now!"

Malfoy Manor was a large, dark, and cold place, somewhere that most normal wizards would not want to live. Of course, Draco was anything but a normal wizard, and he loved it there. It had been his childhood home, and all of his good memories were either there or at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hogwarts, the school of his education, was no more, burned to the ground in the final battle against Dumbledore's Army. It had been during Draco's 7th year, he remembered. It was only a year ago, but the memory was already getting fuzzy. Had he been by his father, and Voldemort's, side when he was struck down? Had he watched as his mother died? Had he killed anyone, stunned anyone, used an Unforgivable on anyone? He would never know the answers to all those questions, but speculation was a good occupation of the mind.

"Better than thinking about that cow Parkinson," Draco told himself firmly. There was to be no more thoughts of Pansy for a while yet, until his head was cleared. "I guess I should get some sleep then; that always seems to do the trick." With a nod and a smile, Draco walked towards, and up, the Malfoy Manor stairs to his room.

At that very moment, the object of Draco's thoughts was sitting on her bed, thinking about him as well, although he didn't know it. She was currently residing on her bed, tears racing down her cheeks at an alarming rate, and thoughts swirling twice as fast. And all of those thoughts were centered on one man: Draco Malfoy.

"Why does he have such a hold on me?" Pansy wondered aloud, tracing an invisible pattern on her bed sheets. "How does he always know just what to say to hurt me? He doesn't make anyone else cry, not to his face!" Pansy shook her head in disgust and flopped on her back on her bed. "I guess I'm just a regular crybaby."

With that completely non-startling revelation, Pansy fell asleep, dreams of Draco Malfoy seeping into her mind. Unbeknownst to her, Draco was having similar dreams to hers, dreams about himself.

He always had been quite a vain boy.

Draco Malfoy woke up the next morning with a shriveled face taking up his entire view. "Winkie?" Draco asked sleepily, speaking to the house elf he thought was standing over him. Fortunately for him, he was right, and there were no hurt feelings.

"Yes Master Draco, it is Winkie. Would you like for Winkie to make you some breakfast?" the loyal house elf asked. Finally, Draco's eyesight returned to its normal proportions, and he could see the room around him. It was light out, and it seemed to be somewhere around 8:00 am.

"No Winkie, I will be going somewhere for breakfast," Draco informed the house elf coldly, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Winkie nodded, bowed, and disappeared, probably to go clean some random part of the Malfoy Manor.

During the night, Draco had made a decision. It may have been stupid, but he felt bad for making Pansy Parkinson cry. In all the eight years he had known her, she had never once cried in front of him. This was something that he most admired, especially since he had always been particularly nasty to her. It had most likely been their betrothal, which was now null and void, but really, Draco had no reason to be so cruel to the poor girl.

With that in mind, Draco got ready quickly, taking a short hot shower and shrugging into his Quidditch robes. He would have to make his visit to Pansy's short, since he had Quidditch practice (again) at 10:30.

As soon as his Quidditch gear was packed, his clothes on, his hair fixed, and his look perfected, he waved his wand and he was gone.

Pansy was utterly shocked when she walked downstairs in naught but a bathrobe and found Draco Malfoy standing behind the kitchen sink. "Malfoy? What the fuck are you doing here?" she practically screeched. The look on Draco's face when he saw her was not one of surprise, but it quickly changed to that once he saw what she was wearing.

"Pansy?" he asked, his voice a high-pitched whine and cracking in all the wrong places. He sounded as if he was going through puberty for the second time. The quality of is almost made her start to laugh, but the situation at hand immediately sobered her. Draco Malfoy, the boy who she had loved practically since she had first laid eyes on him, was standing in the middle of her kitchen. And she, Pansy Parkinson, was wearing nothing but her worn old bathrobe.

"Are you surprised to see me, Malfoy? Who were you expecting, your most recent in a long line of slutty conquests?" Pansy asked nastily, grabbing hold of the edge of her bathrobe and pulling it tighter across her chest. "Still the same old self-conscious one, huh Pansy?" she asked herself, never letting go of her robe.

"No, actually I was expecting you, although not looking quite so, unclothed as you are," Draco sneered, regaining his composure quite quickly. That was another one of Draco's many good traits, traits which Pansy had a hard time overlooking.

"Perhaps if you hadn't popped in at such an ungodly hour, I wouldn't be in this particular state of undress. At this time of day, half of the wizarding world is still asleep," Pansy informed him dryly, beginning her daily breakfast-making routine. With a flick of her wand and a muttered spell, a large plate of bacon, eggs, and sausage appeared on the table. "Would you be liking anything?" Pansy asked as she made her way over to sit down.

"Why yes Pansy, that would be quite lovely," he informed her just as dryly, taking the seat across from her. With another flick and the same muttered spell, a similar plate of food appeared in front of him. With a smirk, Draco picked up the fork that had also appeared and began to eat.

For a few minutes, Pansy was content to simply sit and watch him eat. He was quite pleasant looking when he was eating. "He's always pleasant looking you daft cow," she grumbled to herself. "Now start eating before he notices that something is wrong."

And so she did, start eating I mean. She shoveled the food into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten in days. She was anxious, self conscious, and altogether uncomfortable with the situation. That situation became even more uncomfortable when a head suddenly appeared in the fireplace on her wall. That head belonged to none other than Millicent Bulstrode. "Quick, hide!" Pansy hissed to Draco as she got up, straightened her robes once more, and walked over to the fire.

"G'morning Millicent," Pansy said, pulling a chair over and sitting down on it. Millicent smirked at her and nodded.

"Yes, it is a good morning, isn't it?" Something about the quality of Millicent's voice scared Pansy. "Well, let's just get it out there. I've gotten you, Daphne and I the tickets."

"What tickets?" Pansy asked, genuinely confused.

"Remember, you wanted tickets for one or another of the Quidditch matches coming up some time in the next month? Remember? You wanted to go and learn a little more about Quidditch so you could actually have conversations about something interesting with Daphne and I?" Millicent was rambling, but Pansy did finally remember. With all of the excitement of Draco being at her house, she had completely forgotten about that little request.

"Why yes, I do remember. I'm a bit foggy this morning, sorry for that. Anyway, what day's the match?" Pansy asked. A few minutes later, Millicent's ramblings were complete, and Pansy had a ticket, a date, and a time for the Quidditch match she would be attending. Shortly after, Millicent's head disappeared from the fire.

"That's my game," Draco said from behind her. Pansy nearly had a stroke she was so shocked. Somehow she had completely forgotten that he was there.

"What do you mean that's your game?" Pansy asked as she brought the chair back to its position, sat down, and began to eat again.

"Well, look at the ticket. That's my Quidditch team, isn't it?" Draco asked, pointing out the team names on her shiny new ticket. With a gasp, Pansy realized she was right. "Why that lousy, no good bitch!" Pansy thought, stricken with horror. How could she survive a Quidditch match watching Draco Malfoy play? She knew that it would be virtually impossible to keep her eyes off him, and she also knew that she would learn nothing from this particular match.

"Oh dearie me, I do believe that I will not be able to concentrate on this match at all, with someone as lovely as yourself watching me," Draco taunted, also returning to his seat at the table. Pansy sighed and shook her head; it was too early in the morning for her to think up a witty response to anything he said, and she was getting kind of tired of all this.

"Draco, could you just tell me what the bloody hell it was that you came here to talk to me about, so I can get on with my life?" she asked rudely. Draco was really, really grating on her nerves that morning.

"I just came to say sorry about what I said yesterday, is all." It seemed as though Draco was going to stop there, but when he saw the shocked expression on Pansy's face, he continued. "I didn't mean to make you cry, I never do. I only tease you so viciously because you've never cried over anything I've said."

"Not in front of you I haven't," Pansy whispered venomously, cutting into his little speech. At the stricken look on Draco's face, Pansy continued with that vein of discussion. "Honestly Malfoy, do you think that after all the times you've called me a worthless, fat cow that I had never cried? Did you never once think that perhaps I didn't cry in front of you because I was ashamed? Here you were, Draco Malfoy in all of your glory, teasing me about nothing, and I was reacting in a horribly sensitive way. I may be a girl, but that kind of behavior is simply disgraceful for a Parkinson." Pansy took a deep breath, slid back into her chair, and waited.

But the onslaught of insults that Pansy had expected never came. Instead, Draco, looking utterly mortified by what she had said to him. "None of that has ever crossed your mind?" she asked him, and now it was Pansy who was confused.

"No, not really. I guess...I guess I've never really thought much about anyone's feelings," Draco said softly, his voice taking on a new, softer quality that Pansy had never before experienced from him. Pansy had a feeling that she was the only person who had ever experienced it from him.

"Obviously not, you daft prat!" Pansy admonished, feeling decidedly annoyed about this whole thing. Draco had come to apologize for something, but his apology was not nearly enough. "Apology not accepted Draco, apology not accepted."