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She splashed the cold water on her face, for the tenth time. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she watched as droplets slid down her cheeks. And without realizing it, Pansy Parkinson let out another depressing sigh. Things were not going according to plan. At all. Make no mistake, vengeance was in her blood. It sang to her, the way it had done to countless generations of Slytherins. It permeated her skin and coursed through her veins. It drove her ambitions and chased reason out the door. But that was not the problem. The problem was Draco Malfoy.
She wasn't supposed to fall in love with him, again. He was just supposed to stupidly fall for her plan and just regret leaving her. But no. Instead he made it that much more difficult for her. Now she had to firmly clarify, to herself of all people, the goal of said machinations. She wondered, not for the first time, if there was a way to just rip out her heart so that she could continue with her scheme.
For the past two days, he was constantly beside her. He made sure she was always next to him, be it during meals or lounging around in the common room. He insisted they walk together to all their classes. And at all times when people glimpsed their togetherness, for lack of a better word, there followed inquisitive stares and hushed whispers among those who thought it worth gossiping about. His actions made it seem as if nothing ever happened between them, that it was just Pansy and Draco, going about as they've always done. But that just wasn't true. Because Pansy could feel the pain that still lingered, especially when she caught glimpses of Violet sneering and pouting among the throng of students that littered the hallways. Once in while, she even seemed to have a smug look, as if declaring to Pansy "I got to have a turn with him".
"I want him to suffer what he made me suffer," she said to the girl who was staring back at her in the mirror.
Of course, she had been repeating that mantra over and over since she walked in to the bathroom. It still did not give her the steadfast determination she currently sought. At least she made sure to lock the door. Couldn't risk being caught in such a weak and vulnerable state, now could she?
She lightly slapped her face with her hands to bring some color, or what little of it she had, back into her face. "You can do this," she assured herself. "Just think about him and Violet." Yes. That was quite the motivator. Draco, holding Violet the way he held her, kissing Violet the way he used to kiss her. Such thoughts numbed and doused whatever small burning desire had been re-kindled for him, because it meant that whatever she and Draco had, it was nothing special. He easily found that he could do it with another girl.
She straightened out her sweater and ran a hand through her hair, finally feeling the strength she desperately needed to continue the course she'd undertaken. "Well, the show must go on."
Stepping out into the corridor, she cautiously looked to her left and right. She was on the lookout for Draco, trying to avoid him at the moment, lest she cave in to her desires and abandon her well-laid plans. But he was no where in sight and she exhaled a breath she did not even know she was holding. She started down the hallway, before running into, literally, Blaise, who had just rounded the corner.
"Hey, stranger," he rasped, his deep and husky voice. He took advantage of their collision and wrapped his arms around her. She laughed in response.
"Hey, yourself," she retorted. "Where are you headed?" She struggled to loosen from his grip, but only half-heartedly. All girls love attention and Pansy was no different.
He finally broke his hold, only to throw an arm over her shoulder. "We were just about to go for a walk," he stated simply.
"Oh, yes, that's right," said Pansy, playing along. Hell, it's not like she had anything planned. Aside from avoiding Draco. Anyways, it was just what she needed to lighten her dreary mood: fresh air to clear her troubled mind.
"So, Pansy," started Blaise, the minute they were outside. "Would it be pointless of me to ask if it's too late to send your parents an offer?"
Pansy stopped mid-stride. She looked up at Blaise, hoping to find a mischievous expression on his face. Alas, she was greeted with a sober look that spoke nothing of banter.
"I, uh,. . ." She really did have a knack for being speechless. She could just picture her great-aunt Peony lecturing her on the importance of always saying the right words, with her mum in the background nodding in agreement. It made her shiver. Or maybe it was the dreadful chill of the early evening that did that; she couldn't tell.
For a brief moment, she entertained the notion of being Mrs. Blaise Zabini. In her mind, it seemed like a fair choice, but her heart was screaming at the wrongness of it all. No, it was just off. He didn't fit somehow.
He looked at her, waiting for a reply. Pansy cleared her throat. She had a plan for awkward conversations like this: play it off as some kind of joke, and make light of the situation. Ha, take that, great-aunt Peony!
She forced a fake laugh. "Zabini, it's out of character for you to jest so." She was already giving herself mental congratulations for diffusing the situation.
"It is, isn't it? That's why I was serious in my inquiry."
"Oh." Damn.
Still, he waited. Why were all of her plans doomed to fail, she wondered.
"Zabini, we're friends," she began.
"I know. That's why I'm asking. It occurred to me that marriage would be more bearable if I was with a woman I could actually tolerate on a daily basis." Yes, what self-respecting Slytherin didn't want to get married? How else to keep the blood pure, after all.
She smirked. "Oh? So you 'tolerate' me, do you? Such flattery!" She tried to shove him, as if insulted.
"Witty girl, you know what I meant. Most of those other girls are either trollops or hideous." Other girls, of course, only referred to the ones in their house.
"Some of those trollops are my drones," said Pansy, but not in an indignant manner. Their reputation preceded them and she wasn't about to rectify any wrong assumptions or generalizations. They brought in upon themselves.
"You have horrible taste, then, in the company you keep."
"Huh. That explains why I'm meandering around out here with you," she said.
His head dipped into a small bow, acknowledging her victory in their little verbal spar, the corner of his mouth turned up into a quasi-smile. They walked on the small garden path in continued silence for a few moments.
"I understand if you've already replied to Malfoy's."
The statement shocked Pansy. "You know about his offer?"
"Pansy, our entire house knows. He made a debacle of it in the common rooms, or has it slipped your mind?"
She scoffed. "I wouldn't accept that offer, even if it was the only one I'd received," she fumed with conviction.
"Is that right? Because clearly, he thinks otherwise. He still acts as if you bear the stamp of his name all over you. I haven't wished to be in his presence the past few days, in light of his recent attitude towards me. It's quite childish and below me to acknowledge his tantrums."
"Never you mind about him," she huffed. "I can't tell you if I'll say yes to anyone else's or not, but I also can't stop you from sending your own."
He nodded in response.
"Although, I can't, won't, promise anything. Understand?"
"I wasn't expecting any kind of Hufflepuff treatment, if that's what you mean."
"Rightly so. Besides, I'm willing to venture that there are other fine, established young women that are on your list," she teased.
"Ah, well. It stands to reason that a secondary option should always be considered. We're not all as desirable as Malfoy over there."
She was about to plead with him to stop mentioning that name when the last bit of his comment registered in her head. She quickly turned in the direction he was facing and was horrified to see Draco in the distance. He was walking towards them with determination, surely having already spotted her with Blaise.
"Zabini, I'm going to require a favor," she said with urgency. "And you're not allowed to refuse."
"You want me to disappear?" he guessed.
"With a quickness. I'd rather not have you involved in what I believe will be an argument. I think I can handle this one on my own."
"Just as long as you know I normally wouldn't run away from a confrontation, not even with Malfoy," he said in a steady voice.
"Noted. Now go," she hissed. She didn't even turn to watch Blaise walk away. She kept her eyes on her former love and she couldn't help but snicker. Salazar, he was so easy to read. His long, stiff strides and clenched fists portrayed the anger and jealousy that his face did not. No, his face was the epitome of calm. As Pansy patiently waited for his imminent arrival, she decided she would let him have the first words.
He stopped abruptly in front of her, not too far from her reach but not close either.
"That was Zabini." He crossed his arms and cast her an accusing glare.
"Well, I'm glad we have that all cleared up! And here I thought it was Wolf."
"You are an infuriating woman! Are you trying to make me mad?"
She was about to answer him with another smart remark, but chose silence instead. She studied his appearance. Something was just not right. Ah, there it was. She stepped closer to him and reached for his collar.
"Darling, lower your voice or Hagrid might decide to investigate," she scolded as she fixed his errant tie. Surprisingly, he held still and allowed her to do so. "Better. Now, what are you mad about exactly?"
"Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief. She raised an eyebrow.
"You're mad because I was out here with a guy, whom we've established was Blaise."
"I don't find your sarcasm amusing in the least," he said in a low voice.
She really needed to bring this argument to a close. She could not have him mad at her. That went in the complete opposite direction of what her plans required. She opted for the truth. After seven years of being in Slytherin, she decided she was tired of weaving elaborate lies and was exhausted of the half-truths. She didn't want to tell any more of them, well, any more than was necessary.
"He was asking me about sending a possible offer," she told him. Hm, that probably will make him more mad, she thought. She should have gone with a lie! Curse her stupid Gryffindor moment.
And just as she predicted, he became livid.
Running one of his hands through his white-blond hair, he went on a tirade. "And you told him there was no need, right? You rejected the possibility? I should maim that stupid git for even talking to you. I've warned them all before to never even look at you for more than five seconds!" He was practically restraining himself from shouting.
Now would be a good time to lie, she told herself. Somehow, though, she just couldn't bring herself to do it.
"I've heard about that. I always wondered why no boy would look me in the eye, then. It made me a little insecure, did you know that?"
He crossed his arms against his chest. "Ridiculous. I wouldn't date an ugly girl."
"You dated Violet." The words were out of her mouth before she even knew it. Well fuck. It was true.
"I didn't date the girl," he protested.
"Yes, that's right. You just fooled around with her. That's much better." Now Pansy was starting to get angry. This 'conversation' was getting way out of hand. She made another mental note to herself: if you know you should lie, just do it!
"Is that what this Zabini thing is about? You're using him to punish me in some sick way?" he asked incredulously.
No, she thought. Not with Zabini. But everything else, yes. She suddenly felt ill.
"I. . ." She wanted to speak, hoping no frustrated tears would follow, but she didn't trust herself enough. After what she thought was an eternity, though really seconds, she tried again, this time taking a deep breath before doing so. "No." It came out strong and steady. Much better.
She looked up at him and realized that even distressed, he looked so devilishly handsome. She sighed and tore her eyes away from his face. "I can't marry Zabini. I told him we were just friends." There. It wasn't a lie. Half-truth, maybe. Omitting parts, most definitely.
"Good," was his only reply. But, stealing a glance at him, she saw in the depths of his gray eyes the relief that washed over him. She suddenly felt the need to not be there, to be away from him, as far away as possible before all her resolve crumbled. It was all caving in on her. Why couldn't he have loved her enough to have never left her? Then she would never, never have been in this damned position. She felt herself suffocating in his presence.
He noticed her paled face and shallow breathing. Instinctively, he reached out and cupped her face. "Pans, are you sick?" His thumb gently caressed the side of her face. "I can't believe that nitwit Zabini kept you out here in this weather," he grumbled, pulling off his own sweater and wrapping it around her shoulders.
She shook her head. "I'm not sick. I just feel . . .hungry, is all. Didn't really have time to grab some supper." Alright, those were lies.
" . . . And he made you skip a meal; he's got some nerve," Draco continued. She was so tempted to laugh after that last comment. And just like that, she could breathe again. He went from unbearable to endearing.
"Draco," she said, trying to get his attention. "Darling, you're rambling, I'm afraid."
"Hm? Oh. Well, I don't like how Zabini is constantly hounding you, like some kind of vulture."
She cast him an amused look before sticking her chin out. "In case you've completely overlooked it, or have suddenly gone blind, I'm quite a catch."
"Glad to see your ego is alive and well," he replied.
No thanks to you, she thought. She was going to say it out loud, but stopped at the last second. What was the point? It was not in her interest to push him away, not at the moment. She had by now decided the exact moment she was going to take her revenge and it required his complete devotion to her for the next few days.
"Let's go inside. I don't think I can stand this chill any longer," she told him.
He took her hand and gently pulled her closer to him. She made no efforts to stop him. They walked into the castle and up to their common room in complete silence, but not an uncomfortable one. She sat herself up on her favorite sofa, leaning her head back. She was mentally exhausted. A few seconds later, she opened her eyes. He had laid down and settled his head on her lap. It was a familiar habit. A lot of those were turning up these days she noticed. Pansy lifted her hand only to start running it through his hair. She had to admit, even if only to herself, how she missed the feel of it in her fingers. She studied his face, with his half-closed eyes succumbing to the relaxing spell of the motion. The old Pansy would have just screamed in delight at the honor of being in such close proximity to him, would have felt herself the luckiest girl in the world. But those days were long gone; shattered by the only boy she'd ever really loved.
She could feel the stares and stolen glances being cast upon them. Let them talk; let them speculate. She was counting on all of it to make his humiliation even more damning than what she had planned.
All she had left was her pride. Yet, her heart seemed to protest otherwise.