Summary: After twenty-five years of marriage, Draco and Pansy have an important conversation that changes nothing.
"Pansy?"
I look up from my book and glance coolly at my husband of twenty-five years, taking in every detail of his countenance. He seems to be nervous, his hands are buried deep in his pockets, and… is he shuffling?
"Draco." I respond, my voice impassive after a lifetime's practice. He falters, and shakes his head. He turns to leave and I, though somewhat confused by his behavior, return to my book.
"Do you love me?"
I snap my head up to stare at him; I can feel the blood draining from my face. His eyes are pleading with me, holding an urgency that I have never seen before.
"Do I what?" I gasp out, and for the first time in forty-five years my voice trembles. Never has this question crossed our lips before.
"Do you love me?"
I'm scared. What is wrong with him? I answer him impassively.
"Draco, you are obviously stressed over the wedding on Sunday. Perhaps you should go and have a nap. Do you think you have indigestion?" I ramble as I lift my book up once more.
"Pansy!" He grabs my shoulder and kneels in front of me. "I am asking you a question!"
I stare at him unemotionally, and I can see his determination falter.
"Do you love me?"
I turn away. "You're a fool."
He chuckles quietly, running his hand through his thinning silver hair. "I know." He admits, looking embarrassed. "But I will press on nevertheless. Do you love me?"
He won't give up.
I test the unfamiliar words on my tongue. "Do I … love you? Draco, for the entire twenty-five years of our marriage I have cleaned, washed, cooked for you. I have borne your son, cared for your mother and never before has the word love passed out lips. Why talk about it now?"
I have hurt him, I can see that. Yet, for the first time since I have known him, I question why it pains me to see him hurt so.
But my husband is nothing if not strong.
He sits beside me and takes my hands. "Pansy, the first time I saw as anything other than a fellow Slytherin was on our wedding day." He laughs dryly. "I was scared." He admits.
My heart softens as I remember walking down the isle towards him. He had been so pale, standing, shaking, with Blaise beside him.
And his eyes never left my face…"I was shy, especially that night." I remind him, and he pressed his forehead to mine in a brief moment of intimacy.
"I was nervous." He chuckles fondly, and I fake a gasp.
"What? The great Draco Malfoy, who stood fearless in the Last Battle, admits he was nervous on our wedding night?"
"What can I say? It was your ethereal beauty." He teases.
I arch a brow. "I was nervous too."
He smiles fondly at the memory, but then a frown crossed his face. "My parents pulled me aside that morning, before the wedding. My Father told me that his marriage had been arranged, like ours. He told me that it had taken time, but he loved my Mother. He said that we, too, would learn to love each other." Draco's eyes bore into mine. "And now, twenty-five years later, I want to know. Do you love me yet, Pansy?"
I sit still for a few moments. I hardly know what I feel for him. What did I feel for my husband? How do I put it into words?
"I am your wife!" I struggle.
"I know! Believe me, that much I know Pansy! But, please Pansy, do you love me?"
Do I love him? I stare at Draco, and as though my eyes have been unveiled I see, for the first time what our relationship is and what he means to me.
"Daco, for twenty-five years I have lived with you. I have fought with you, starved with you, held you, cried with you. I have defended you, lied for you, told the truth for you. Every morning I warm you clothes while you shower, so you don't get cold. When you fall ill because you sneak away without waking me, I refuse to let anyone but myself care for you because I don't trust anyone else to do it. Every evening I bring you supper in your study at exactly 9:30, because I know it pleases you." I have to take a breath, the words won't stop.
"For twenty-five years I have woken up in the morning next to you, and I rejoice in it. Draco, if that is not love, then what is?"
For a moment he stares at me, then with understanding his face shines with joy and he plucks me off my seat and spins me round. I laugh with him and he pulls me close.
"Then, you love me?" He asks, hesitancy still detectable in his voice.
"I suppose I do." I tease him, and he pulls me in for a soft kiss.
"And I suppose I love you too." He replies, and for some reason unknown to me, my heart sings like never before.
I sit next to him at my son's wedding. He is holding my hand, our fingers laced together. I think about our precious conversation. Knowing that he loves me has not changed what I do, or how I act. I am still calm and composed to the world around me. But there is a difference, one that my son has noticed.
We had a talk with him this morning. We told him that, though it took time, we loved each other. Draco squeezed my hand softly as he said it. As we left, my son pulled me aside.
"You really love Dad?"
I nodded. "Yes, I really love your father."
My son frowned and folded his arms in exact replication of his father. "But he was never around-"
I broke him off by tapping a finger on his forehead. "Perhaps. But nevertheless I love him, warts and all."
My son stared at me, then nodded. "I am glad to know, you deserve to be loved. But, Mum, I all ready have a huge advantage over you and Dad. I love her."
I am glad for him and wish him all the happiness in the world. I only wish that I had known Draco's love all those years ago.
Understanding it now hasn't changed much. But still, after twenty-five years, it's nice to know.
A/N: Okay, so something fluffy. Why? Because all I seem to write is angst, and it's getting to me. This story is dedicated to 'Just Kate', who has written helpful reviews of every chapter of "Just keep on Drinking" and "We Brethren Are".
Thanks Kate!
Oh, and everything belongs to JKR, except the inspiration, the song "Do you love me?" from the musical "Fiddler on the Roof". Please help me to improve my writing by reviewing, and please check out my other tales of angst, angst and thrice angst!