AN: I was thinking while I had a free period, and came up with this idea for a one shot. It's different, at least I think so. I feel almost bad for Pansy. I mean, look at all of the fan fictions in which she's a whore or Draco rejects her! I mean, in my other story she's a whore. So I thought I ought to make it up to her. Alright, I'm going mad. I feel like I've hurt the feelings of a fictional character. How terrible is that.
Disclaimer: I disclaim.
Sighing softly, she gazed into the mirror of the vanity, edged in delicate golden vines. Her dark brown, seeming almost black eyes glazed. Raven hair was done up, curls framing her delicate oval face, high cheek bones brushed lightly with a warm rouge. Pale hands wringing at one another as she waited. Forever waiting, for that was what she had been told to do.
Other women chatted around her, clad in tasteful blue gowns, the color of the sky on a clear summer day, just as the sun has finished rising. Voices sounding as if they murmured a prayer for her happy fate. One finger idly stroked a small rounded bottle of luminous pink perfume. He didn't love her.
Kohl eyes moved to stare unblinkingly at her finger. There nestled a small, but beautiful ring. Pale blue diamond rested between two pillows of white diamonds, held in place by silver. The ring that belonged to his mother and his grandmother curling around her finger. Shutting her eyes, a single salty tear left a trail in her glowing make-up, but the touch of one of her bride's maids quickly left her as if no tear had ever fallen, no imperfection had occurred.
He sat alone in the room he had asked be set aside for him. His two best friends would be his best men. Nothing else to do but go through with it now. Stormy grey eyes shifted to stare intently upon small frame upon the desk at which he sat. A woman was in that silver outline of cold flowers.
Smile was genuine, as if the red haired woman had not expected the camera to be there, but its presence was none the less flattering. Slightly pink tinged cheeks were streaked with flour, a small child in her arms, supported by her hip. Skirts upon her waist twisted, as if still in motion. Long slightly curled hair was tied back into a low tail, streaming like a slightly contained river, preparing to burst its dam down her back.
The caramel eyes of the child, their child, stared adoringly at his mother, hair the same as his father's, blonde hair silky to the touch. A smile always on his face and in his eyes, just like his mother. The picture remained frozen in tome, its occupants unmoving. But that was the way she had wanted it.
Slowly, she walked down the aisle, her father guiding her. Both of their families watched, joy painting each smile with golden sunlight. Finally, she reached the alter, strewn with roses. Two roses in her bouquet. One for his son and the other for his wife, so savagely taken from him. She knew. She had seen him staring in longing at that old photograph. She could no longer torture him. No more.
It was time. Her turn to speak. Ears filled with sounds unheard, a drone throughout her thoughts. He doesn't love me… Back to reality, her eyes truly opened for the first time.
"To have and to hold, from this day forth, for richer, or for poorer, in sickness and in health?"
The man with the black collar turned to her, awaiting an answer that would never come. Hands held within her husband-to-be's grasp turned cold.
"I do not. I cannot."
Who knew that so few words could create such an abyss? A silence so vast and deep that she thought she would drown in it. Blinking a few ill spent tears from her eyes, she moved. Heels clicking sharply as the spun sugar veil she wore disappeared from sight.
Confusion entered his mind. Then, realization and understanding relieved him of his clouded thoughts, as if some divine force had spoken to him. Finally, joy roamed throughout every fiber of his body. She was finally free. Eyes smiled for the first time since his Fire's death, the still shocked crowd staring at him. Eyes smiled, while the rest of his pale face remained motionless. Slowly, slowly he exited the stained class prison.
Walking in the thick fall light, drinking in the colors of the burning trees in, he mulled over these strange events. She had loved him. Yet still she had let him go. She had set him free. So pure of heart, so kind…
So much like his Ginny, his Fire, his Raven, his love. Draco turned in the golden wine of the setting sun, opening his heart to her and their child. Their beautiful, charming, bright eyed son. So much like his father when he was a small child. Even in their death, they loved him.
AN: Sorry for the lack of length. This was all written during one period today and it's rather bad at the moment. Please forgive me. Mostly, my one shots will usually be much longer than this. I apologize, but I still hope you liked it. Please R and R!
Much love,
EB