Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13 for wet dreams and naughty words.
Summary: Life can go any way it chooses. Five ways things could have been for Pansy.
AN: There might be some spoilers for HP and the Half-Blood Prince. You are warned.
Five Ways Things Could Have Been
1. True Love Doesn't Last
Pansy lies awake, the bed is lumpy, it is unpleasantly humid and her husband snores too loudly by her side, but that is not what keeps her awake. Her jaw throbs and her ankle is swollen. Her heart beats so hard and so quick, it makes a racket only she can hear. She is scared. She wonders how it came to this.
Pansy shifts off of the bed, wincing when she hears it creak, but when her husband fails to stir, she limps silently into the bathroom, eases the door shut and locks it with a faint click. For a moment, Pansy just leans against the door in the dark and squeezes her eyes shut. "I have no more tears to cry," she thinks, but salty liquid stings at her eyes and burns away the shrivel of hope she was clinging to. Things weren't suppose to turn out this way. So how did they?
Pansy flips on the light. It streams onto her, harsh and revealing. It's not going to be okay. She knows that when looks into the mirror. Once upon a time, a long, much too long time ago, she was--beautiful. Not anymore. Her hair hangs lank around her face--"You bloody whore, this is all your fault! Don't pretend you don't know what--" CRACK!--her cheeks are hollow and her eyes are too, she is a skeleton, only a wisp of what she once upon a time was.
Pansy turns the faucet, just a miniscule amount, she doesn't want her husband to wake up. She catches the dribble of water with one hand before it hits the hard surface of the sink. The other she wets and dabs at the blood crusted around her lips which cracks open new wounds, her nostrils flare at the tangy scent of blood. She glares at her mouth for more injuries, her mother's mouth. Only her mother would never have dried, abused lips like hers. She should have listened to the words of advice that came out of that mouth, "Marry the Malfoy boy, darling. You'll be happy there." Happy. It wasn't supposes to be like this. Pansy turns off the light and takes the weight off of her ankle by sitting on the toilet seat. She should have listened to her mother. "Draco's your friend, that lasts. Your infatuation will wane."
2. Love You With My Last Breath
Draco's pale gold hair knots around her fingers as her stroking comes to an abrupt halt. "What was that," he rasps.
"Nothing Draco," Pansy says. "It's nothing. Get some rest."
He turns his head to face her from the space between her crossed legs and Pansy sees the trickle of blood running from his temple. His eyes are unfocused and his mouth opens with the agony of every breath. Pansy turns his head to face her knee. He doesn't resist, but Pansy closes her eyes in case she looks down to search for the yawning cut upon his forehead.
"Get some rest," says Pansy.
Draco nods against her thigh and she feels it slick with his blood. She keeps her eyes closed.
"I don't want to hide," Draco says. "I want to go down fighting. I want--"
"Shut up."
"I
want--"
"DRACO SHUT UP!"
They are in the Shrieking Shack. It is dusty and the places creaks every time Pansy shifts from one buttock to the other, but it is safe. It is away from the thick of the battle where blood runs in rivers too red against the snow. Too many have fallen, she won't let Draco go down too.
"We're staying here. You're hurt. I won't let you abandon me," Pansy whispers.
Draco nods again. Pansy's hand grips his hair tight. "Stop nodding," she half-screams. "You're opening up your gash." Draco nods and reaches up with a bloody hand and rests it against the flat planes of her stomach.
"When this is all over.." Draco starts and doesn't finish. Pansy strokes his fine hair and shakes his head.
"Draco," she says. "When this is all over what? What?"
Pansy shakes his head harder, then soon hard enough to jar his spinal cord out of alignment. "Draco," she says. "Finish your sentence! Draco!" Pansy opens her eyes and turns his head to face her. His eyes are slitted, a serene smile crosses his face. She watches him for a moment then another and another, when she realizes suddenly that Draco isn't blinking. "Draco?" she says.
Her pure blood roars in her ears as the battle whispers closer. "Draco?"
3. Lover's Wait
Pansy sways in wait for Draco to come. Her stomach is swollen like the moon and her cherry brown hair curls softly at her shoulders. Pink chiffon flirts with her lily white thighs encouraged by a breeze brought in by an open window. Her eyelids droop as stares out in the direction of England in hopes of platinum blond winking at her from a distance.
It has been six months that she has been made to wait. She was whisked away too quickly for protest by floo to Georgia to stay with her cousins when it was learned that she was to carry the Malfoy heir. Lucius was dead and when the war of the century ended so may Draco be, but Pansy wasn't told the last part. So she stays up and sways to a melancholy waltz in her head and clings to the belief that Draco will come to be with her and her baby, to be a family. Wars take a long time to fight, sometimes years, but Draco will come back, he isn't a common foot soldier after all.
Pansy waits, she will be waiting forever.
4. Dream a Little Dream of Me
"No one's here," Pansy says. "Draco you prude, no one's here."
She sits back into a green leather high-backed chair and scoots out of a triangle and string of silk, also green. She flings it at Draco's head and spreads her legs suddenly. "Come on," she demands. "Do it."
Draco smirks up at her, his brows slanting upwards. "You girls wear practically nonexistent underwear," he snorts.
"Emphasis on the 'practically'. Hurry up!"
"Patience woman! Be quiet or I won't do this at all."
Draco wets his lips and ducks suddenly between her legs. Then comes back up. "I'm just supposed to…" He demonstrates.
"Yes Draco," Pansy says. She pushes his head back down. "Oh, yes, yes, yes. Like. That. Ooooh."
Draco clutches at her thighs. "You taes sorra funny," he says.
"Like you taste so great," Pansy growls. "Oh fuck!"
Draco lifts his head. "Like you'd know. You won't do it for me," he whines.
"Don't lie and say it's just like a lollipop," Pansy says. Her cheeks are flushed. She pushes Draco's head down and threads her fingers in his hair. "Like that. Aah. Padma Patil says it tastes gross and makes your jaw ache."
"This is maging my jaw aag thu."
"Don't. Give. A. FUCK!"
Pansy sighs, squirms in pleasure and covers Draco's ears with her thighs. "Oh…" Her hips jut up and Draco's hands come up to secure her. She whimpers slightly and jerks around anyway pulling hard at Draco's hair. "Draaaaaaco!" she howls.
"PANSY!"
Pansy's eyes shoot open and stutter over to Millicent leaning over her. She pants slightly and twitches her mouth into a sheepish sort of grin. Millicent rolls her eyes and goes back to her own bed. "Put a silencing charm up the next time you have a wet dream Pans," she says.
Pansy sticks out her tongue at Millicent's retreating back and flops about noisily, trying to find a comfortable position to lay in. Soon her heavy eyelids start to droop and her breathing evens out. She falls asleep with her hand between her legs.
5. The Substitute
Draco hasn't come back for his seventh year. He was last seen scurrying off with Professor Snape--not Professor now, just Snape--and some other Death Eaters. Pansy's parents had wanted her to stay home, but she had insisted on finishing school. Summer was depressing, so empty without Draco to horse around with, school would probably be filled with people, enough people anyway, for Pansy to not feel so alone. She didn't believe in the cliché, "so alone in a crowd". That was lame and for people like Gryffindors, cliché down to their bone marrow.
It is almost December and she has started going with Zacharias Smith. He's blond and tall and pureblood enough. He reminds her of Draco, proud to the point of being haughty, blond. Not blond enough, but that can be fixed with a simple lightening charm. Pansy uses it on her skin after being out in the sun too long. Draco taught it too her sometime ago. Draco wasn't so haughty the last few months here. More tired, worried, afraid. He would never say what about.
Pansy jerks out of her thoughts. Charms is over and Pansy, along with her fellow classmates, spill out of the room in a hurry. Zacharias is waiting for her in the corridor, leaning against the wall with one foot brought up to knee height.
"Hello," he says.
Pansy smiles at him, then frowns.
"What?" he says, his brow furrowing in question.
"Your nose is upturned," she says.
"So is yours," he replies.
Pansy is silent.
Zacharias rakes a hand through his hair. "I'm not Draco, Pansy, and I won't be. You either wait for him or you don't. Don't try to make me him."
"I'm not."
Zacharias smiles and tilts his head back, his pale blue eyes still fixed on her. "Do you think that he'll come back?"
Pansy drops her book bag at her feet and looks up at him with dry eyes. She slips her hand into his and answers, "He was gone last year too." She pauses. "If he comes back, I'll go to him you know. I love him."
Zacharias' smile clings to his ribbon mouth. "We're not eternal, we're temporary. I'm just your comfort for now." He kisses her and watches as her eyes slide shut, her mouth wishing for Draco.
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