-Holidays Suck-
(Flashback to the night before: Christmas Eve)
Snow was gently falling all around on this crisp Christmas Eve night, and Pansy Parkinson was slowly making her way up a wide stone path to a large and posh house, a house that was big, grand and old with lots of family history and even more family secrets.
The house had many windows, all of which were a warm shade of gold as many figures of family and friends passed back and forth, exposing the fun that was being had inside.
Pansy watched this view from an ever closing distance, and the closer she got, the faster her heart started to pound.
She didn't want to be here, she didn't want to ruin another Christmas, ruin yet another holiday with false greetings, fake smiles and forged sympathy.
She didn't want any of that.
And that's why she had purposely arrived late for the holidays. Any extra moment spent at home would only bring on more suffering than she could possibly bear at the moment, and she was not in any mood for that.
As she approached the front door she could hear laughter and loud talk escaping from the house, all of it made her stomach turn in disgust.
As far as Pansy was concerned, holidays suck.
They were such a façade, such a make-believe wonderland of what life at the Parkinson home would look like if only the occupants would try to get along.
But getting along was an unheard concept to her family.
Slowly she climbed the front steps… one… two… three… and then she stopped, with her nose an inch away from the tall oak door.
She closed her eyes to try to stop her head from spinning. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her heart down.
And there she stood, for five minutes, in the cold dark night on Christmas Eve… alone and quiet… listening hopefully to the happy sounds inside as she prayed in vain that maybe, just maybe this holiday would be different from the rest.
And without much thought, she lifted her hand and knocked firmly on the door.
And then she heard it,
The sound of shuffling feet and whispers behind the door, and then…
"Oh Pansy honey, it's so good to have you home!" cried Emile Parkinson in a high, unnatural tone as she grabbed her daughter into the hallway and hugged her a little too tightly.
"Hello mother," said Pansy, trying her best not to sound annoyed but pleasant.
Emile quickly let go of her daughter and from a distance stared her up and down as she shook her head.
"Pansy darling, you must run up stairs and change into something nice, dear. It is Christmas after all and we have friends and family waiting in the living room and they're are all dying to see you,"
"Sure mother," replied Pansy quickly as she kicked off her boots and ran as fast as she could down the hallway and up the stairs.
As Pansy bolted up the stairs to the second floor she thought she heard someone say from the kitchen area, "Was that Pansy who just ran in looking like a wet mop?"
Pansy tried best not to let the comment get to her, and it didn't, although when she had made it up the stairs and to her room she slammed her bedroom door quite loudly and unnecessarily.
"Stupid, bloody bitch!" muttered Pansy as she ripped off her black cloak and threw it onto her bed.
"She has the nerve to say that I look like a wet mop when her daughter looks like a donkey's ass!" whispered Pansy in anger as she tore off her school uniform in the darkness and stomped towards her closet.
Pansy began to rummage through her closet in the darkness as the noise from downstairs continued on. She pulled out dresses upon dresses, looking for just the right thing to wear.
She was pissed off, pissed off at all of them, everyone who was downstairs for she knew exactly why they had all shown up.
"I can't believe I'm going to go through with this," muttered Pansy to herself as she pulled a dark blue dress out of the closet and quickly stepped into it.
When she had finished zipping the back of the dress up, she walked across the room and sat down on top of a pile of clothes that had been thrown onto her vanity chair.
She grabbed a big brush off of the vanity and while looking at her reflection in the mirror, began to angrily comb through her head of half wet hair.
She combed fast and hard, pulling the whole length of her black shoulder length hair as she stared at her reflection in the mirror…
And then she paused.
How exhausted she looked… she hadn't noticed it before, but her once shiny blue eyes had now lost their sparkle… her face seemed to be hanging, and the frown that she wore looked as though it was set in stone…
Pansy shook her head and continued to comb her hair and then put down the brush and grabbed a tube of lipstick.
I may feel like shit, but I won't let them know it, she thought bitterly as she applied the dark purple gloss over her lips.
The lipstick clashed beautifully with the blackness of her hair and the navy of her dress and she quickly stood up, brushed herself off, and then marched out of the room.
Sure enough she hadn't even made it down the entire flight of stairs when she could hear voices in a close room saying,
"It's a poor thing that Draco Malfoy got himself in trouble with the law… he really would have made a good husband for Pansy, Henry."
Pansy stopped on the last step and waited for her father's reply,
"Yes well I have spoken with Lucius and Narcissa and I offered my condolences to the two, but my dear Pansy… how she feels is any ones guess. Neither my wife nor I have spoken to her about it since it happened. Of course I'm sure she's awfully-"
But whatever Pansy awfully was she did not know, because she had quickly run across the hall and snuck into the kitchen, only to find herself in even more trouble.
"Oh my word!" cried Pansy's Aunt Fiona in false amazement and joy as she ran up to Pansy and pulled her into a tight hug, "Oh my dear Pansy, it's so good to see you."
Fiona pulled out of Pansy's limp hug and stood back and stared her niece up and down, "Well, at least you're looking well,"
"You mean well enough for a wet mop?" asked Pansy as she tried hard to keep her face straight and serious.
Pansy stared long and hard into Fiona's eyes, but before her aunt could retort back Emile had swooped in and was now leading Pansy into the dining room where her father was seated at the long table, along with the rest of the family.
When Pansy entered the room all talk ceased as her family stared at her with mixed expressions of pity and satisfaction, and then the inevitable came,
"Pansy it's so good to see that you're well,"
"Thank you, Uncle Hank."
"Oh Pansy, what a pity it is for you to have lost such a good mate. Better luck in the future!" toasted Great Aunt Emma with a look of pure pleasure.
Pansy looked down at her feet and tired hard not to cry.
She knew this was going to happen… all of these people, they weren't here for Christmas, no, they were all here to laugh at her misfortune, to enjoy her moment of weakness… to rub in the fact that she was not going to marry Draco Malfoy after all.
"Oh dear, don't let your auntie's words dishearten you," said Cousin Martha as Pansy raised her head,
"I mean sure, it would have been nice to marry into the Malfoy family, what with all of the money, power and success you could have gained. But now you'll just have to fight like the rest of us women, and learn to accept the fact that you're not any better then us."
Pansy's jaw dropped to the floor.
This wasn't fair. She had been expecting subtle rude comments, but not a full out attack.
Fiona's daughter Julia then spoke, "Yes that's right Pansy, you really need to bring your ego back down to earth. Your nose is so high up in the air I can see your brain."
"Now really Julia, I expect more from you." whispered Fiona quietly from behind Pansy, but Pansy turned round and saw the sneer that lingered there.
Pansy's heart began to race as the anger was rising quickly in her. But instead of yelling out all of the nasty things that were crossing her mind, she turned and ran out the door and up the stairs to her bedroom.
She reached the door, swung it open, slammed it shut and then threw herself on her bed.
And there she lay, crying hot tears of anger and pain as she felt her body flush with heat.
How dare those bastards treat me like that! Jealous, that's what they are! They just didn't want me to marry Draco because they didn't like the idea that I would be getting more out of a husband than any of their daughters would!
Pansy continued to cry and cry until her bedroom door was roughly opened and she looked up to see the outlining figure of her mother and father.
Pansy's tears stopped immediately, but she neither moved nor said a word.
"Well?" asked her father in his typical angry tone.
"Well what?" choked Pansy as she slowly sat up on her bed.
"Why did you leave the dining room in such a scene?" asked her mother, loud and clearly as though the question was apparent.
"What? Are you joking? Did you not hear what they said to me?" demanded Pansy.
"Pansy you're such a drama queen!" said her mother in an irritated tone. She turned and left the door way. Henry on the other hand stayed rooted to the spot.
Pansy stared at him in silence and waited until he spoke,
"I understand that you're angry, but you need to keep your composure."
Pansy just sat quietly.
She wanted to talk back. She wanted to tell her father that he didn't have the slightest clue on how she was feeling. She wanted to contradict him, but she knew that if she did the situation would only get worse.
And to her relief, her father turned and left her alone in her dark room.
Pansy let go of a shaky breath, she had been seriously worried that her father may have slapped her, and when her heart slowed back down to a normal rhythm, she got off of her bed and walked out of her room.
The second floor was dark and deserted, but the light that was coming from the lower floor was enough to light Pansy's way.
She tip-toed to the edge of the stairs and sat herself down and then quietly listened to the talk coming from down stairs.
It seemed that everyone had forgotten about her, for the conversation was now about unregistered animagi.
Pansy dropped her head in her hands and began to cry. There were fifty people down stairs. Fifty family members and close family friends, but not one of them was willing to offer her a kind word or ask her how she was really doing.
But Pansy Parkinson was not the only person who felt alone this Christmas Eve. At this very moment the house of Malfoy with its many rooms and hallways, stairways and secret passages was filled with one sound; the echo of dull, dry sobs coming from Narcissa Malfoy.
Narcissa was currently sitting on a couch in the family room, all alone and in dim flickering light coming from a single candle that was burning on the table next to her.
There was a picture in her hand, a picture of a small boy about the age of three laughing and giggling silently in the frame. Narcissa looked down at the portrait of her son and then felt an icy cold hand of guilt grab at her heart.
How could she have allowed them to take him away from her? What kind of a mother was she?
To lose your son, your one and only joy… it was certainly the most horrible thing that could happen to a woman…
Narcissa was overcome with sadness and depression, something which she had never felt the times before when Lucius had been sent to prison.
Lucius… oh how she loathed him.
The very mention or thought of his name made her want to scream at the top of her lungs.
How come he allowed it to happen? Hadn't he sworn to her that Draco would be sent free?
He had promised her, the day they received the phone call from Snape, he had promised to her that her son would not have to spend a single day in Azkaban, but he lied…
Oh boy did he lie.
Today was Christmas Eve, marking the 12th day that her precious son had spent sitting in Azkaban, rotting away under the heavy guard of the dementors; and it was this thought that drove Narcissa mad.
He should be here… opening presents and laughing and joking with me… but instead he's locked up… and I can't even visit him!
More crying… endless crying matched with endless pain…
And as Narcissa sat and cried on the couch, she didn't notice that her husband had just entered the living room.
Lucius Malfoy sneered when he saw his wife crying. How absolutely disgusting she looked, sulking on the couch, the way she had done for days now. She hadn't even had the decency to take a proper shower, let alone put on make-up or do her hair.
Lucius was growing increasingly appalled with his wife and was about to turn and leave the room when Narcissa raised her head from her hands and stared across the room at her husband.
Her tears stopped immediately.
She looked him up and down. He was dressed in a ravishing black suit with his blonde hair slicked back and his cane at his side as though ready to leave, the sight angered her,
"Where are you going?" she asked in a monotone voice.
"Out." was his reply.
"Out?" she asked in return, "Out to where?"
"Where ever I like," stated Lucius as he turned to leave through the door from which he came. But he had only taken two steps when he felt something hard hit the back of his head.
He spun around on his heels and saw a pillow lying on the floor at his feet. He looked up at his wife and drawled,
"What is it now, my sweet?"
"You're leaving?" questioned Narcissa in disbelief,
"It's Christmas Eve… our son is in prison… and you're all dressed up and ready to go and party? What the hell is the matter with you Lucius?" asked Narcissa in shock and rage.
"Fortunately I do not feel the need to let myself waste away just because my son is in prison. I on the other hand have more important things to do,"
Narcissa glared at her husband, "Your right Lucius, you do have more important things to do," she slowly rose from off of the couch and walked closer to her husband,
"You have the wonderful job of bringing our son home, and I want him home Lucius. No more of this foolish sweet talk about how you and your contacts are doing "the best you can". Your best is not enough!" she shouted.
She was infuriated at the fact that Lucius would much rather go out and attend a rich social party than try and figure out a way to bring their son home.
Lucius on the other hand was annoyed.
He had better things to do than to stand here and listen to his wife bicker and complain about things she had no concept of, and without another word, he turned around and headed out the door.
"Lucius!" shouted Narcissa after her husband, "Lucius Malfoy, don't you dare leave this house!"
When she heard no response, she quickly followed after him.
She chased him down the hallway and through the office. Past the dinning room, into the library and to the front entrance, but regrettably she wasn't quick enough.
By the time she reached the front door it was wide open, and she stood there in the doorway, watching the black figure of her husband disappear quickly in a think swirl of white, cloudy snowflakes.
And when she could no longer see his outline, she collapsed on the floor and cried… cried for hours and hours until Maggie the house maid came and found her and helped her up, and then slowly walked her off to her bedroom.