Title: Sensory Details
Fandom: Harry Potter
Timeframe: Postwar
HBP Compliant: Yes
Pairing: Draco/Pansy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He can feel her, and maybe that's all that matters.
------ Draco/Pansy ------
He doesn't listen to her anymore. Not really. He tunes out the words the moment she opens her mouth. He can hear her voice as it complains of the days hardships or tells cruel stories or criticizes something else he's done wrong. But he can't understand the words she saying because he refuses to listen. He can hear her voice and the way it still kind of hums when she gets flustered and sounds like church bells when she's excited and gets real cold when she's trying to keep herself from crying.
He doesn't look at her anymore. Not really. He doesn't look at the scars on her cheek or her blood-shot eyes. He doesn't notice the blood on her lips every time the stitching tears or the way the skin on her thumb never really grew back. He still sees her of course, because she's always there. He still sees her gray eyes, sparkling like they did when they were kids. He still sees her perfect red lips that always had a knowing smirk on them. He still sees her short, black hair that framed her face just perfectly. What he doesn't realize is her eyes are red and lifeless now, her lips are cut and bleeding, and her hair is shaved off on one side so the place were the Crucio hit could heal properly.
He doesn't smell her anymore. He doesn't even breathe when she first walks in the room, because he's afraid of the scent that would hit his nose. The scent of medical potions and tears and too much perfume. Why did girls even wear perfume? Did they really think it could cover up years of pain and blood, days of surgery, and hours of being force-fed medical potions? It couldn't, and because of that he refused to breathe when they kissed, when she was close enough to smell. He'd rather remember a time when she smelt like daisies and honey than now when blood was a welcome change from her normal smell.
He doesn't taste her anymore. Not when they kiss and not when they make love. He doesn't allow himself to register the potion-taste still in her mouth, no matter how many times she cleans her teeth, or the absence of honey and tea that used to pour from her mouth into his. He forces himself to think about everything other than how she tastes now, how she used to taste, and how she'll never taste like tea and honey again.
He still touches her though. He touches her like a lover, because she needs someone to assure her she's alive. He touches her like a father, because she needs to know someone still loves her unconditionally. He touches her like an enemy, because she needs to be reminded that she isn't as fragile and she's still a fighter no matter what. He touches her because they both need to be reminded that they still have someone to hold on to.