Title:
The Last Few Moments (Before Dying)
Author: Miz
Thang
Characters/Pairing: Pansy Parkinson, PP/DM
Rating:
FRM
Word Count: 551
Warnings: Angst. Character
death.
Disclaimer:
I don't own anything but the little story's idea. Everything else
belongs to who it belongs to.
Summary: It's
almost amazing what a person realizes in the last few moments before
dying.
It's almost amazing what a person realizes in the last few moments before dying. Things they never thought about when they didn't know of the expiration date on their back. Things that never once occurred to them.
Pansy thinks, passingly, of school. But that isn't what matters. She spends the first second to think of six years of waiting in the shadows for her moment to outshine everyone. And then she thinks of the adventures she went on with Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott, the five of them a success for the Dark Lord. She thinks of the families she ruined and the look on Draco's face when she finally deems that she should tell him she loves him. She thinks of the night she really truly realized that she would one day be Mrs. Malfoy, and of the night when she decided she needn't be the next Bellatrix Lestrange; just be better than the current one.
She thinks about the war she'd had yet to partake on it. She remembers being eager, because she wanted to live, she wanted to fight; she wanted to continue to give Draco reasons to want her to bear his last name. She thinks about the day when Death Eaters and Potter's band of misfits crowded across the open land of Hogwarts to fight to the death of either Potter or Voldemort.
She thinks about watching him, pale hair glistening in the sun, as he hexed old classmates without a single thought, and remembers thinking that they'd grown up, in a way. No longer children. She thinks about the engagement ring on her finger, and of all the things she could've been doing besides facing off against Hermione Granger on the grass she used to lounge on with Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode.
She spends even longer, remembering the feel of Draco's lips on hers, for real that time, and thinks, in loving memory of the first night she ever spent in his bed (because life was too short – and whoever would've thought she'd not only find Draco Malfoy, who, despite any rumors to the alternative, she was never close to, worthwhile, but fall in love with him?)
She holds on tightly to her thoughts and her feelings as the green light nears her, never faltering, never wavering, likely to be more sure than any decision she made since she replied to Draco's letter and said Just tell me when. –P.
She reminds herself, repeatedly, mantra-like, reassuringly, as Draco screams her name across the field that she took chances. Many chances. Dangerous chances. She reminds herself that she'd done exactly what she'd set out to do that night. She lived. She lived and she had fun, and she was better than Bellatrix in ways the older woman would never know and she's found love. In one year. An accomplishment, she thinks.
She'd done all she could.
The last thing she sees just before the curse throws her off her feet and takes her life is Draco, a, now, man, in full rage at the death of the one person he loved more than doing what was right, killing anyone within range. And she feels proud, because it's all for her.
It's almost amazing what a person realizes in the last few moments before dying.
-end story. end series.-