Revelations part II

This whole chapter is from pansy's point of view. Any sections from the past are in flashback and from her perspective.

Pansys pov

He was watching me with distain. The distain that I deserve until I can finally join Draco….where that may actually be. I wondered if he could see how I had changed. Changed so much from the pig idiot I was in our youth, when I was young, and I thought Draco loved me. That was the question that prevailed as I looked into his eyes. Did Draco actually love me, and should I tell this enemy of our past how he came to do all of those shitty things that he did?

He carried on watching me though, with those dam calm and green eyes. I always thought green was the most calming colour in all truth…..o god….hes watching me still.

'Pansy….you don't have long until this grieving idiot with a hero complex loses his patience'.

I cried all over again then. I think it was the laughter that did it really. The laughter was real and loud and present…..but it didn't really reach all the way to his eyes. So we sat……and I spoke…and my heart seemed to leave me through my lips…

20 years previously

He had brought me a bunch of roses. I had told him a few months ago that I had a little bit of an attachment to those flowers. My father used to bring me a single rose every morning before he would go to work. Before I knew what his actual work was.

We had grown attached because of what we had in common. What we had both felt at the hands of our fathers. Granted, what he had experienced was completely different to me. My father had a liking for harsh words, brutal insults thrown at people across the family dining table. Lucius had a liking for harsh fists, brutal curses. Funnily enough though…some were also through over the dining table.

The roses came, and I gave my best effort at a grin. It was becoming harder and harder to lie to each other now. We both knew what was expected of us, but in our own little bubbles we could pretend otherwise. He was to marry a pureblood aristocrat handpicked by the Dark Lord himself. She was to give him heirs upon heirs, and to serve the Dark Lord in arguably exactly the same way. I was destined to a servant rather than a member of the elite. I was to be a 'watcher', destined to stand on the sidelines and essentially be an extra in my own life. I was to have a son, to earn money for the cause, and then to never expose our secrets. I was expendable, Draco was vital.

He wanted me to be his. He wanted to run away, to never see anyone, and to have his children with me and not a stranger. He wanted blond children with my sky blue eyes. He craved girls who loved poetry and would sit with me night upon night discussing Poe and Keats. He wanted to chose, and he thought that I could give him that.

I knew this from our very first kiss in our common room hidden under an invisibility cloak. I knew I was doomed, and I knew the moment I felt that blond hair running between my fingers.

16 years previously

He was on the floor. His hair was red, his eyes were rolling, and his hands were in front of him. He could not get up any more than he wanted to. He was silently screaming, yet bowing at the same time.

He had been crucioed to within an inch of his life. He did not utter a sound though, at least, not any sounds that they wanted to hear coming from him. They wanted to know who his new wife was, but he refused to tell them. They wanted to find her, give her a dark mark, and force her into what they deemed as 'service'. This essentially meant that she would be a glorified whore for the Dark Lord, and Draco was meant to be honoured that his wife would be chosen for such a position. They wanted her name, her blood line details, her ability to reproduce right down to her height and attractiveness.

They wanted me, they were going to get me, and all that stood in their way was my bleeding husband lying on the floor. I wanted to kiss the blood away from his cheeks, I wanted to stroke his broken rips, I wanted to tell him our child was grateful and kicking me to say so, I wanted him.

But I watch, and I cheer along with these idiots who heckle his pride and foolishness. I stand, and watch, and want nothing more to run. Run from this, run from then and grab his hand and take him with me.

He stood up then, and his back was still as straight as a rod. He grimaced, he leered, and he began to speak.

'My wife good gentlemen….is in this room. For of course, who else would be perfect enough for a Malfoy other than himself….'

The crucios returned….and I retreated…

14 years previously

I was pushing, my god I was pushing. She just wasn't going to come out. Evidently thought where she was would do very bloody nicely. Can't blame her really. Womb or war, which one? Draco was there, and I admit I could not help but think he really was bloody gorgeous.

We had run a year ago to the day. We had realised this when the due date was announced, and thought how sodding funny fate thought she really was.

I pushed, and pushed, and then I heard her. That cry, that scream, and oh my god she was mine and she was perfect. She had Dracos hair and my eyes….it was how we had pictured our little picture to always be. The nurse handed her to me in her little pink blanket, and all I could see at first was her little thumb keeping her quiet. She had the most beautiful face that I had ever seen, and she was all ours. We had run, we had got what we wanted, and she was in my arms all real and touchable.

Draco was watching us, his eyes as wide as the day we had first kissed. He went to reach for her, but then stopped. He scratched his arm, apparently just an itch. Why lie, I knew what it meant even then. Through the gas and air and baby….i knew what it all meant.

But then……it all went so hazy. It was as if, someone had taken something from my dreams, and watched them, and decided which parts I was allowed to see. It was as though I was being punished for knowing something. Then clarity….or at least….a form of clarity. She wasn't Draco's…she was foreign….she was…well…wrong. Her eyes though, I could tell. They weren't hers in anyway and there wrongness just glared at me like a beacon. I looked at Draco, and he leered at me for some reason. I knew, I knew what I had done. Oh god….Draco….Blaise…..o god…..save me……

5 years previously

She was running in the garden with her father. Ha, how that word made me laugh for years upon years. The whisky glass in my hand had turned into a common feature. My nerves made my fingers grip the glass automatically… my lips to except the nectar.

The rows had begun the week after she came home. She was lying in her crib, her fake brown eyes staring at me. They were wrong…and I knew it….but the reasons why were leaving me every second and it was useless holding onto them. She wasn't dracos….she was blaises….and we were both very aware of this fact. Her long black hair and dark skin were like his signature all over our marriage.

I had lost love for my daughter within the first month. Draco seemed to take over from there in all truth. Every time I saw her I felt wrong, dirty, and for some reason totally betrayed. However, the only thing I did know in my muddled drink fuelled head was that it was my entire fault and I was lucky to still have Draco.

He had returned to the Dark Lords side when Seren turned 8 months old. He had his mother watch her in the day, as though he did not trust me to even do this, and he would return for her bed time feed every time. He didn't tell me what he was doing whilst he was there. That type of communication had broke down months ago. Separate beds and rooms developed weeks later, and the only thing that held us together was the girl who was blaise with the wrong eyes. She would be leaving us in a few years for that sodding Scottish castle. Then what would happen?

7 weeks ago

I knew the day would be different. The birds seemed to be quieter. The sun seemed to be dimmer. It was as if every thing was waiting for something, waiting to hide when they had to.

Draco and Seren had been missing for weeks, and of course no one knew that I had noticed. Everyone thought I was just the useless drunkard stepmother to Draco's miracle heir…how ironic that she had nothing to do with him.

It was the paper that told me they were dead. That he had gone, and my hand curled in waiting for the glass. Seren went with him…seren was gone.

Grief was short and pointless. My mind was beginning to become fuzzy again, as though a hangover had happened with no drink to aid it. Things began to become different in the mirror. My hair began to age, and my skin followed just days later. My eyes though…..they were what scared me the most. They were changing blue….sky blue…

My brother took me to the doctor. My family were convinced I was showing strange signs of cirrhosis, but I wasn't so sure. He looked at my eyes, and jumped off his chair. My brother gave the doctor a paper bag and a slap on the back, and he began to explain.

Apparently…all of my symptoms were the ones for memory and appearance alterations. My memories would return….my face would become what it should have always been. But the pain….that was always going to be.

Present P.O.V

I looked up to Harry; he was still, serene, and breathing like a marathon runner. I was useless with this kind of situation; he needed a hug or something. I was only ever good with avoiding that something.

'he……he nearly killed your heart….to save you?'

I looked up at him, felt the tears leave me eyes for the first time in years. My eyes.

'he changed many things. He made me believe that I would cheat on the man I would die for, in order to protect our daughter. He kept her safe…..he guarded every weakness of the story. He changed my face to hide the ravages of our fights and wars. My eyes, so that Seren's were not mine or his but of Blaise. He hid my daughter under a mask, but doing so, made an even thicker one for me'.

I stood, I breathed in a long over due breath, and walked.

'Pansy…….I can't forget what Draco did. But I can try to forgive'

I smiled, and nodded….and planned my disappearance. Perhaps a notice of passing in a long forgotten section of the prophet. Perhaps silently going whilst sitting under the image of my daughter.

I apparated….and arrived at a cave. It was dark, dank……but right. He was still here, so I sat. I sat for hours upon hours waiting until I knew when the time was right. I looked at my watch….and there it was. 20 years to the day, to the day his lips brushed mine. I drank the vial, feeling my eyes gleam there bluest for the last time, and smiled for the most important time. I was going to my rose…..i was going to my star.

Hope you like….