1. SLOTH
July 1998
The Great Hall was alit with warmth, joy and buzzing conversations. Hogwarts was nothing like the broken shell of a school it had been merely sixty days previously, as the sun had risen above a still smoking castle in ruins. Victory had been theirs somehow, against all odds. Voldemort's sickness that had been spreading all over the country had been obliterated. There was still a blissful drunkenness lingering over them collectively since that, as if the world was brighter and bigger than before, full of endless possibilities yet to be explored.
"Can you believe we've actually graduated?" Draco asked as he led her out through the heavy ornate doors onto the dark Transfiguration courtyard.
"You make it sound like everything's all hunky dory," Pansy snorted, and took a sip of her champagne. "There was a battle not two months ago and your family's trials are coming up."
A shadow of fear was visible through Draco's would-be confident expression. "Nothing wrong with keeping our spirits up."
"Ugh, look at those Thestrals!" exclaimed Pansy as the school herd of them landed on the cobblestones of the courtyard. "They're so disgusting, aren't they?"
Draco looked up and followed with his eyes one of the skeleton-like tails that was swishing about in the air. They could all see them now, after the battle. "Yes," he said gloomily.
"So, is your father proud of you?" Pansy asked, taking another sip and studying him cautiously. The subject of his father was sensitive these days.
Draco snorted, his eyes still on the Thestrals. "For finishing school? I doubt it. His main concerns are keeping us out of Azkaban presently. Oh, and social hierarchy of course." He added the last part with an eyeroll.
It was true, Pansy thought, Lucius had always walked confidently along the corridors of power and he probably wasn't about to stop, despite having found himself on the wrong side of a lost war for the second time. But they'd have to pry his social standing out of his hands.
"Your father cares about you."
"He'll do whatever it takes to make sure we don't get tossed in prison, or fall from grace. It's hardly affection."
Pansy shrugged. "It's as good as."
"He's not happy with you though."
Pansy turned to him, raising one eyebrow. "You've been talking about me?"
"'A perfect Pureblood witch, infinitely superior' – his words not mine," Draco said with a crooked smile. "'But needs to learn to control her mouth'. Again not my words. Personally I quite liked that you publicly tried to get my nemesis offed."
"Oh, don't," she said, hiding her face in her hands. "So embarrassing. Obviously I panicked. I wasn't about to die for some prick I'm not even friends with. How was I to know he was destined to finish the Dark Lord off?"
"Solid logic, my love."
"Thinking before speaking was never my strength."
"It's one of the things I love about you."
"Oh yeah? My big fat mouth that always gets me in trouble. I'm not very popular anymore. At least not outside Slytherin. Not like you. You're basically an honorary Gryffindor now," she said sarcastically. "After fighting on their side."
She didn't add that she knew there had been no altruism from Draco on this point – if he had hoped Potter would win it was only for selfish reasons, so that him and his family could be free of the Dark Lord.
"That's debatable. I did kind of try to capture Potter for the Dark Lord."
"Only because Crabbe was insane!"
"Let's not talk about him," Draco said quietly. Pansy swallowed. Sometimes she still forgot that their former classmate had died. However mixed their feelings about Crabbe had been towards the end, he'd still been a longtime presence in their lives and nobody deserved to burn alive.
Draco put his arm around her shoulders. "We're actually done with this place. Isn't it mad."
Pansy looked up at the glimmering tower above. Her home for seven years although she'd never been particularly fond of it until now that she had to leave. Mad, indeed.
"Yeah," she breathed. "What comes next?" Something akin to adulthood, undoubtedly. Was she ready for it?
The answer to her question hit her like the Hogwarts Express when they got back inside the graduation party in the Hall. Large, loud, full of life. Overwhelming.
"Pans," Draco said, suddenly getting down on one knee, and holding up a small velvet box. He opened it slowly, and suddenly a large diamond was sparkling there, staring at her. "Will you marry me?"
A surge of something came over her and she wasn't sure whether it was butterflies or just nausea. He was looking up at her lovingly. She knew he adored her in that moment, by the way he was looking at her. Not that she'd ever doubted it. But for some reason she felt like she couldn't breathe.
All of their friends were there, surrounding them by the Slytherin table, and so without thinking she just plastered a big smile on her face and exclaimed "Yes!" because that's what you do when someone proposes.
Draco looked like he'd just caught the Snitch right in front of Potter's nose, or he'd just won the House cup. Bizarrely, Pansy thought that that was how she was meant to look too. Did she look happy enough?
A huge flash of light suddenly almost blinded her. Daphne Greengrass had just taken a photo of them. Through the shock she noticed everyone was cheering. Pansy smiled because she knew she was meant to, and showed everyone the ring after he smugly put it on her finger.
It was only when she excused herself to go to the loo an hour later that she looked into the mirror and her smile faltered. A wave of panic rose inside her, or was it just overwhelming happiness?
She knew should feel on top of the world yet there was a nagging feeling that she wasn't as blissful as she should be. But she loved Draco, didn't she?
She always had after all.
June 1987
Pansy felt as if the world was falling out of her grasp, out of her control, and she saw the scene as if from an outside perspective, as she slowly, but all at once, fell bum-first onto the mud of the Malfoy manor Quidditch pitch.
Instantly, her face screwed up in horror as she felt the hard impact and looked down to see her ruined pink dress. She looked up to see Crabbe and Goyle high fiving and laughing loudly, with the magnificent old building towering over them in the distance.
Draco instantly turned on them. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing, you buffoons?" he snarled at them.
"We pushed the little baby in the mud," sniggered Crabbe maliciously.
"Shut your mouth Crabbe," said Draco, sending his friend an icy stern look. "I order you to be nice to her."
Crabbe whinged, "Why have I gotta be nice to her? She's a stupid girl."
"Because I say so!" Draco snapped. Crabbe and Goyle rolled their eyes and continued arguing over who should go first on Draco's toy broomstick.
Pansy's bottom lip was still shaking as Draco reached out a hand to help her out of the mud.
"Stop crying you little baby," said Draco, but there was no hint of malice there as he pulled her up.
"My dress is ruined," Pansy said and had to fight back the tears.
"Don't worry, Pancake," he said. "When we're old and married like my mother and father, I'll buy you so many pink dresses you won't even be able to count them all. Father says there's a whole vault full of gold with my name on it."
Pansy couldn't help the genuine laugh that came out, and she squeezed his hand.
"Mummy, am I actually going to marry Draco?" she blurted out when her mother had picked her up from their playdate a couple hours later.
Perpetua Parkinson let out a shocked gasp. "Pardon?!"
"Draco said we're going to be married one day," said Pansy, blushing slightly.
"Absolute tosh!" exclaimed her mother. "You're children. You're friends. This isn't the eighteenth century, my darling. Now, Draco is a smashing young lad, but make no mistake, parents don't choose whom their children marry!"
Pansy pondered this. "You mean it's all up to me?"
"Yes, although, give yourself a few years," Perpetua chuckled. "First you must focus on making friends and getting good marks at Hogwarts."
"I can't wait to start school," Pansy agreed. But she couldn't help circling back to the topic Draco had brought up, it was after all the first time this subject had crossed her mind. "Who should I marry then mummy?"
"Oh, bish-bosh, Pansy!" said Perpetua, but when her daughter didn't falter, she added thoughtfully, "You should marry someone who treats you well, is stable and possesses all the right values."
"But shouldn't I love them?"
"Well," her mother began slowly. "There should be love, of course. But too much love… can cause problems."
She had no idea what her mother meant by this, but of course she didn't listen. Predictable Pansy.
September 1991
It hadn't always been perfect though. Into the snake pit they went after they were unsurprisingly sorted into the same house. On the very first night as the Slytherin prefects Gemma Farley and Terrence Higgs were leading them deeper into the dungeons and through a hole in the wall into the murky Slytherin common room, Draco decided to mess with her. It was undoubtedly one of his favourite pastimes after all.
"You know the Giant Squid sometimes swims by the windows," he muttered to Pansy as they emerged in the submerged room scattered with ancient bookshelves and hard-looking armchairs.
"How do you know that?" Her eyes were narrowed.
"Father told me. He also told me if you make eye-contact with it, it'll crush the window and attack you. So you better watch out Pans!"
"Draco that's not true!" She hit his arm and he held up his hands to defend himself. "You're just trying to scare me!"
"You are scared," he sneered. "Scared little baby!"
Crabbe and Goyle, loyal albeit brainless as ever, joined in laughing and taunting her.
"Pansy look! The giant squid is coming to get you!" He jumped at her, tickling her. "And Snape too!"
"Shut your mouth!"
"Silence back there," Higgs interrupted, and droned on about the House rules.
Draco jabbed Pansy in the side and muttered, "I dare you to ask the Bloody Baron why he's so ugly. And why he died!"
"Shut up Draco."
"Why not? Are you scared?" He turned to Crabbe and Goyle, malicious mirth on his face. "Told you she was a little baby."
She wiped off his smirk by promptly turning to him and giving him a hard shove to the chest so he actually fell on his bum. Her triumph was short-lived, however. Shocked, he looked up at her, and then his face turned sour.
"I'll make you wish you'd never done that, Pansy."
"Miss Parkinson!" said Gemma Farley. "We don't condone physical violence in Slytherin. You would've heard that if you'd listened to the rules!"
Draco sent her a smirk before turning to the Prefect, plastering a pained look on his pale face. "Oww, my leg..."
"Ten points from Slytherin, Miss Parkinson."
"But he started it! And he's not even hurt!"
"Girls shouldn't be violent, you know," Gemma said with a stern look at her.
She didn't see why she couldn't, if boys could. Pansy seethed all the way to her dormitory, vowing to never let him be one step ahead again.
After she and Daphne, who were always joined at the hip, called dibs on the two best beds in the dormitory, they unpacked their trunks into the small wardrobes they were each provided.
"What do you think of the boys then?" Daphne asked the mousy Tracey Davis, who was the only girl they didn't know before tonight. Undoubtedly a half-blood, but Pansy hadn't asked yet.
"Oh, I dunno," said Tracey, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Theodore seems sweet, and Blaise seemed very aloof."
"Theodore is very nice," agreed Daphne. "Bit weird though."
"Zabini's mum is a social climber," Pansy added in quickly. "That family has no prestige."
"Crabbe and Goyle are stupid," said Queenie Wilkes. "Don't waste your time talking to them. They only do what Malfoy tells them anyway."
"Malfoy seems like a bit of a plonker," said Tracey Davis, before realising she'd made a faux pas. The other four girls turned to glare at her.
"Have you any idea how dangerous his father is?"
"What and because of that we have to listen to everything he says?"
Pansy felt the need to immediately dismiss these rumours. Sure, Lucius Malfoy gave the impression he wanted to crush you under his expensive dragonhide boots, but that silky voice had never said anything nasty to Pansy personally – so how bad could he be?
"He's not dangerous, he wasn't even a real Death Eater, he was just cursed," said Pansy. "But he is on the school board so he does have a lot of power, I suppose."
"Proper old money," Bulstrode threw in. Pansy wrinkled her nose at this. Only Bulstrode would say such a working class thing. She was so poor.
"Let's go check out the boys' dorm."
Blaise Zabini let them in reluctantly. The circular room was mirrored to their own, but full of boy things. Pansy wrinkled her nose again. "Eww, your room smells!"
"That's because Vince just farted," Goyle said and all the boys erupted in fits of laughter, while Pansy and Daphne shrieked their dismay.
"You want to see my Hand of Glory, Pans?" asked Draco, and Pansy assumed it was his version of an olive branch. She sauntered over to sit on his bed, albeit rolling her eyes.
"Why you always readin'?" Crabbe groaned at Theodore Nott who were propped up against his pillows with a large book in his lap.
"Just because you can't read doesn't mean the rest of us don't want to be prepared for our first lessons tomorrow," quipped Nott.
"Oi, I can bloody read!" Crabbe glared at him but the damage was done. Draco and Pansy fell on top of each other laughing, forgetting all about their previous feud.
September 1992
They'd known they were going to be in Slytherin before they could even spell the word. Draco, Theodore, Vince, Greg, Queenie, Daphne and Pansy had been friends since they were toddlers. The Pureblood high society, with Death Eater parents as a common denominator.
It was an elite club of carefully selected people. Or, an environment where change and open-mindedness was promptly discouraged. They had no reason to evolve. But they looked out for each other - and they didn't care about anyone else outside Slytherin, because the other houses didn't care about them.
Only Zabini, Bulstrode and Davis were the odd ones out. But they quickly became an addition to their close-knit group over their first year. Pansy threw multiple tantrums a week and Draco was always fist fighting Potter or Weasley. Then Dumbledore took their hard-earned glory away from them last minute in favour of Precious Potter. The snub only increased the inter house rivalries, and deepened the bond within Slytherin. Nobody was ever going to be on their side.
By the time they started their second year the group was unbreakable.
Draco got a place on the Quidditch team, because Slytherins do it better after all. And he was set on besting Potter. He told her all about it in the common room after dinner.
"Potter only made it on to the team because of that ugly scar on his face," Draco insisted passionately, as Pansy crossed a sentence off her scroll of parchment with her feather pen. "At least it ended with Weasley making himself spew up slugs. Can you believe it? It was so bloody funny I couldn't stop laughing. Oi, are you even listening to me? Pansy!"
"Slugs," she repeated mindlessly. "Very funny."
"It was if you'd been there," snapped Draco, visibly annoyed, and threw himself down onto the hard sofa. "And that sodding Mudblood said my father bribed Flint to let me onto the team by buying all those brooms. Which clearly isn't true! Flint couldn't wait to have me on the team," he said with a puffed-out chest. "Practically begged me to join. He knows how much natural talent I've got – says it's only a matter of time before I go professional, you know."
"Right."
"Plus, I've seen every match ever played in England since I was born – my father has always insisted on taking me. Potter can't exactly say the same, can he – he doesn't know anything about the strategic side of Quidditch, and once his luck runs out, he'll be kicked off their team, I'm sure."
It was always "Potter" this and "Potter" that, Pansy thought and snorted to herself. She couldn't care less about Draco's enmity with Gryffindor's Golden Boy, nor his Quidditch escapades.
But when Draco played his first match, Pansy couldn't help but to blush slightly as she watched him from the stands, her insides mingled with worry and pride as she followed the small white-blonde head soaring around the pitch. Hers. Although, he wasn't. Not in that way. There was just a sense of possessiveness there, which was surely normal.
"Shame the filthy Mudblood didn't die," laughed Draco after hearing the news about Granger being petrified later that school year. "In fact, if either one of you lot is the heir..." He looked around suspiciously.
"It's obviously none of us!" snapped Pansy. Daphne was painting her nails a classic, loyal Slytherin green.
"I mean, it'd be likely to be me," smirked Draco. "I am of purest blood here..."
Theodore threw a cushion at him. "We're all Sacred Twenty-Eight you prat."
Crabbe shrugged callously, shoving a fistful of Bertie Bott's into his mouth. "Why doesn't Slytherin's heir just do us all a favour and get rid of all the Mudbloods in one go?"
"It's probably advisable to keep opinions like that to yourself," said Tracey, visibly cringing.
"Shut up, Davis," grunted Crabbe.
September 1993
"That new Professor looks like a homeless tramp."
"And that oaf Hagrid as a teacher? And just when I was beginning to think this school couldn't get any worse. My father will certainly hear about this."
"Good, maybe he can fix this, or I might take up my mother's offer of homeschooling, even though I can't stand the woman."
"As if you'd ever quit Hogwarts, you'd miss the gossiping too much."
"Shut up, Malfoy. Merlin, what is he wearing anyway? Do you think it's for dramatic effect or did he not have one single cloak that wasn't tattered and unwashed?"
"Back on Lupin, or are you still talking about Hagrid?"
"Could be applicable to both, to be fair."
"Malfoy, Parkinson, be quiet," hissed the Prefect Gemma Farley at them.
Their third year was just as unjust as the first two. As ever, Draco found ways to avenge them for being ignored by the rest of the school and treated unfairly by the teachers. He was so clever, always coming up with pranks, she thought affectionately.
Although, being third years came with upsides too, like finally being permitted to go to Hogsmeade, taunting each other about their Boggarts and laughing at Potter because he was so scared of the Dementors. Draco was always so theatrical, as he imitated Dementors, told animated stories about how he used to kick his old House-Elf, or tripped up first year Gryffindorks in the corridors.
But they were constantly reminded of how the rest of the school hated them.
"Lay off them, Malfoy!" exclaimed Dean Thomas, when Draco had stuck his leg out on his way to Potions, and Dennis Creevey fell over. He was sporting a bloody lip.
Draco laughed loudly and obnoxiously along with Crabbe and Goyle.
"Trying to be a hero, Thomas?" he taunted. "I reckon the role of reckless champion of losers is already filled in your house, or is Potter having a day off?"
"What's wrong with you," retorted Thomas angrily, "Picking on first years," he shook his head disapprovingly. "Why don't you leave them alone or pick on someone your own size."
"Shove off Thomas, if you know what's good for you," Draco muttered at their classmate.
"Shut up Malfoy," added Seamus Finnegan coldly. Crabbe flexed his muscles at the Gryffindor.
Draco's cold grey eyes narrowed as he turned to the other boy. "You shut up, you Blood-traitor."
Pansy smirked. Tracey Davis raised her eyebrows.
"Shut your mouth," said Dean murderously even though what Draco had said was, in Pansy's opinion, perfectly innocent, or at least truthful. "Your family's a bunch of slimy Death Eaters. They shouldn't let your kind in Hogwarts."
Draco's face screwed up in apparent loathing. "You're the kind they shouldn't let into Hogwarts, you Mudblood. The only thing worse than people like you are Squibs!"
He fake-laughed and Crabbe and Goyle quickly joined in. "And half breeds, like that oaf Hagrid! Haha!"
Draco always looked to Pansy after he'd made a joke, to seek her approval, to make sure she was laughing. She always was.
"We've got to stick up for ourselves, Pansy," said Draco with a hint of pride as he strode on towards Potions, Crabbe and Goyle in his wake. "Nobody else is going to."
She smiled contently and grabbed onto his arm. "You're right Draco," she agreed.
"Nobody looks out for us Slytherins," he went on, looking pleased with her support. "Especially not that old codger Dumbledore. He's just an old relic anyway. Hogwarts will be so much better once he kicks the bucket."
"I know, Draco," she smiled and nodded. "He's the softie that's made the rest of those Gryffindors such wimps."
"Exactly. Sit with me in Potions," he added in a lowered voice, so only she could hear. She giggled.
"I promised to sit with Daph and Trace."
A hint of disappointment shone through on Draco's face, which for some reason sent a comfortable tingle to her insides.
And when he sent her notes all lesson long (drawings of Potter falling off his broom and Hagrid tripping over his own pumpkins), she had to fight hard to suppress her giggles. As usual he looked proud that he made her laugh.
"Malfoy, stop sending Parkinson notes and pay attention," snapped Snape as he walked past their table. The Slytherin boys grinned dumbly, and Draco rolled his eyes. At least the stupid Gryffindors hadn't heard. That would've been embarrassing.
Seeing that great big beast slice open Draco's arm the next day, she realised it was the first time she'd ever worried about another person, and the first time she fully grasped that she in fact cared about him. She could feel his embarrassment and fury as if it was her own as she ran to the hospital wing with tears in her eyes.
"Are you ok Draco?" she exclaimed as she approached his sickbed. "Hagrid should be sacked straight away!"
His face was screwed up in apparent pain and he was clutching his bandaged arm.
"Oh Draco," she cried. "The great stupid oaf!"
"Don't worry, Pans, I'll see to it that my father gets his bloody bird executed. That will shut him up."
"Is it really painful?" she cooed. He nodded ostentatiously, pretending to wince when she reached out to touch his bandages.
"That bloody thing could've taken your arm off!"
He was lapping it up. She decided not to leave his bedside until she was absolutely sure he was ok. Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore and Blaise joined them an hour later to check that Draco was all right, more out of obligation than anything else.
Theodore's eyes narrowed at him when Pansy left to go get him a snack. "It doesn't hurt at all does it?"
Draco wiggled his eyebrows, his signature smirk back. "Not really. But I'm going to milk it for as long as I can."
"You're a dickhead, Malfoy."
"What!" he defended himself mischievously.
"Always scheming aren't you Malfoy."
He looked pleased with himself. "It's what makes the world go round."
Blaise rolled his eyes.
"Your Slytherin is showing."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Pansy came back with his cauldron cake and started feeding him little bits of it. "Oh Draco, is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"
Draco smirked and caught Theodore's eyes again, and they both had to hide their amusement, both probably thinking the same dirty thought.
"I can think of a few things," he smirked. Pansy hit him on the arm, and the boys burst into laughter.
But Draco's escapades weren't even close to over. She could always trust him to have another trick up his sleeve.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Draco exclaimed ostentatiously upon re-entering the common room, his kingdom, when he was let out of the hospital wing. Crabbe and Goyle laughed loyally, but Nott and Zabini rolled their eyes.
"Aww how sweet," said Pansy. "An ickle firstie actually studying. Ooh, I've got an idea," she smiled maliciously. "If you love doing homework so much, why don't you do mine."
She dumped the contents of her school bag onto the table, on top of the scattered parchments the first year student was already working on.
The boys laughed loudly, and Crabbe and Goyle scared off the group of younger students so they could occupy the sofas instead.
"Forget bullying first years, I've got a better idea," said Draco, his eyes twinkling menacingly. "Let's go, Pans."
Her eyebrows raised, she followed him to a dark alcove. He turned to her and they suddenly stood very close. She glanced at his lips.
"What's up?"
His eyes were glinting like golden snitches. "Do you want to help me take down Hagrid?"
She snorted. "What do you mean take him down?"
"I'm going to report him to the Ministry. I'm going to get my father to do it. He's going to pay for what he did to me."
Pansy smiled. Draco always got what he wanted.
July 1994
Pansy snorted loudly. Of course the Malfoys would have a collection of tents that together formed what looked like a palace made out of fabric, complete with a set of albino peacocks guarding it. It made every other tent look less than, which was always the point.
"Pleasure having you with us, young Pansy," said Narcissa, smiling uncharacteristically warmly at her. "Draco always talks about you at length."
"Oh really?" said Pansy, sneaking a taunting glance at Draco.
"I do not, mother," he said, his pale face turning pink.
"Why don't you show Pansy where she will be sleeping," said Narcissa as a House-Elf served her a cup of tea.
"Are you so excited for the match then?" Pansy asked him as Draco led her inside the humongous tent. It was even bigger and more magnificent inside, and magicked to look like the inside of the manor.
"Yeah," he said confidently, "I can't wait to see Krum wipe the pitch with those bloody Paddies. Here's your room," he opened the door to a guest bedroom. "It adjoins with mine, look."
He opened another door and in the next room she could see another bed with an emerald bedspread adorned with golden snitches. She smiled. She just knew they'd sneak into each other's rooms tonight and stay up all night joking around, maybe even fall asleep on the same bed. Above the covers, of course.
But alas, that idea had been disrupted by the Death Eaters causing carnage. The next time she saw Draco he didn't seem himself, his forehead wrinkled in apparent trouble.
"Father went out and showed those bloody Muggles what's what," he said, feigning mirth. "Crabbe and Goyle's dads were there too. Shame those stupid Muggles didn't fall and die. That would've been hilarious."
"Yeah," said Pansy non-committally. She didn't really understand the whole thing.
"My father told me I have a cousin," he said, pointedly not meeting her gaze. Pansy studied him for a moment. She could tell he was keen to talk about this, and that this was what was troubling him.
"Oh really?"
"A disgrace to the family."
"What do you mean?"
"Apparently she's a metamorphmagus. Sounds pretty cool."
"Ooh," said Pansy. "That would be so cool. I'd make my hair grow all the way down to here—" she held her hands just under her chest to demonstrate. "And get rid of my stupid nose."
He frowned at her, almost derisively. "Why would you want to change yourself, silly?"
She rolled her eyes. "You know those Gryffindors call me pug-nose."
"Who cares what those sodding Gryffindors think?" said Draco heatedly. "You're a lot better looking than any of their girls. All they've got is that bushy haired Mudblood who hasn't brushed her hair in about a year."
Pansy smiled warmly and felt her cheeks go slightly warm. She didn't think he'd ever complimented her before.
"Still, be pretty cool to know her. My cousin, that is," he added. "I don't have any other cousins."
"Maybe you could."
"Don't be stupid," he snapped. "Her family are Blood-traitors. My father said so."
Pansy thought, probably stupidly, that perhaps his father wasn't always right. But what did she know.
"Thanks for saying I'm not a pug-nose."
Draco turned to her, frowning angrily. "If anyone hurts you," he said ceremoniously, "They'll have me to deal with."
Pansy couldn't help but to giggle.
She realised as the weeks went on that no one could hurt her indeed because Draco had her back, and Crabbe and Goyle had his in turn. She was powerful that way. Too powerful, she thought smugly. So when Mandy Brocklehurst called her "pug face" a few weeks into the new term, Pansy ran, livid, to Draco and demanded, "Do something!"
Draco instantly turned to Crabbe and said, "You heard her."
"What do we do?" Crabbe asked. "Can't beat up a girl."
Pansy turned to Draco questioningly. Draco sneered slightly. "You can beat up her boyfriend."
Pansy threw her arms around Draco as if he'd done the most heroic thing in the world, while Crabbe and Goyle loyally got up to fulfil their duties.
December 1994
The Slytherins were sat in Potions, at the front as usual, the green tinged room warmer than normal, on an early December afternoon. Pansy was leaning her head on her hand, bored, not paying attention, thinking about what she was going to have for dinner. Suddenly she saw that Malfoy, over the mist of the bubbling cauldrons, was staring at her from across the table.
Her eyes widened slightly and she suddenly straightened up. He realised she'd seen him looking and he glanced away, then back to her.
She frowned and mouthed "What?" at him. He turned back to his potion.
An hour later the lesson was coming to an end, and she caught Draco looking at her like that again. Very curious, indeed.
"What are you looking at?" she asked rudely.
"Nothing," he said, adapting a would-be casual expression and tone. "Was just thinking, do you want to go to this ball or what?"
That certainly caught her attention. She straightened up. "You what?"
He rolled his eyes. "You fancy it? The Yule Ball?"
She smirked. "Maybe I've already been asked by someone else."
He was immediately offended by this. "Who?!"
"Potter asked me."
Instantly, a mixture of shock and disgust appeared on his face. Then he narrowed his eyes. "Don't even joke about that. That would be the worst thing you could ever to do me. Plus, he'd never look at you in a million years."
Insulted, she glared at him. "Are you saying I'm ugly?"
"No, you're just too Slytherin for him. But not for me." He added the last part with the hint of a smile.
Her face softened slightly. "Fine."
He glanced down at her chest, where her Potter Stinks badge was. They both wore them day and night. They'd made them together after all.
"It suits you," he mumbled.
She smirked. He smirked back.
"Fine," she said quietly. "Let's do it."
His smirk only widened, his eyes glistening.
It took Snape walking by to break them out of the moment, and suddenly she remembered she was in class in the dungeons. She had almost gotten lost in Draco's grey eyes.
When she finally broke eye contact to look down into her textbook, Draco slung his arm around her shoulder. She didn't move. But her insides were upside down.
They were sat next to each other, his arm around her. Pansy looked like anyone would be smug to be in her position. It made him proud.
Draco was smirking softly. He had his prize. His Slytherin princess.
There hadn't been another option for the Yule Ball. Pansy really was the epitome of a giddy schoolgirl at the ball, pink dress robes and all.
"Oi, Malfoy!" called Adrian Pucey tauntingly in the common room on the big night, "Who's your girlfriend?"
"Someone you'll never touch," Draco snarled instinctively. "Piss of Puce."
Pansy stared shocked at the exchange.
He then turned to her and said quickly, "Not that you're my… you know…"
Pansy smirked next to him and clutched his arm as they ascended the stairs from the dungeons. Not that she was his girlfriend or anything.
It was the first time he saw her in high heels. Pink little heels adorned with something sparkly – they were the girliest things he'd ever seen and even though he found them kind of silly, it was also wildly attractive.
"Tragic, isn't it?" he felt Pansy's hot breath on his ear as she leant in to snigger. "Weasley can't even put on a proper set of dress robes for an event like this. What is he wearing anyway? Looks like Longbottom's nan's old curtains."
Draco laughed loudly.
After they ate, danced and snuck some Firewhiskey into their Butterbeer from a flask Crabbe had kept hidden in his robes, Draco leant in to whisper in Pansy's ear. "Let's get a break from these twats and go outside."
Pansy turned to him, eyes glistening. Draco winked at her. That was when it had started. But then again, maybe it had started way before that.
September 1998
"You got a… what?" Pansy was staring incredulously at her fiancée, who had just sprung this on her as they were getting dressed to head out of the manor. She was already holding a fist full of Floo powder.
Draco looked up at her, his eyebrows raised. "A job, Pans, I'm sure you've heard of them."
"A job?" she repeated, her nose wrinkled. "You?"
"You can close your mouth. It's not that strange, surely."
"Let me get this straight," she held up a hand to silence him, "You got a job?"
"Yes, Pansy," he sighed. "I have a pile of lawyer bills to pay, and now that my father is in Azkaban, it's not like there's anyone else in the family that can bring in any money."
"But… you're rich," she said, shaking her head. "You have money. Just pay the bills and get it over with. No need to get a job for that."
"Bloody hell, Pans!" Draco snapped. "I've just told you, haven't I? I've sold all our stocks and shares in the Daily Prophet and the Comet Group to liquidate some funds, against my father's will, as well as sold all his old dark arts relics to that creep Borgin, again against my father's wishes. I'm examining every option here. Do you have any idea how much my father's solicitor cost?"
"But he didn't even save him from going to prison," Pansy snorted.
"Doesn't mean he didn't do countless of hours of work and preparation and strategy before the trials," said Draco. "He also worked around the clock to make sure my mother and I didn't join my father in prison. And he needs to be paid now."
"Surely your father has money stashed away somewhere?"
"We did. We also made a sizable donation to St Mungo's after the battle, and the Muggleborn Help Committee. We're doing everything we can to redeem ourselves in society's eyes. I've got to play by their rules Pans. I'm lucky I'm not rotting in Azkaban with my lousy father at the moment."
"All the more reason for you to enjoy your freedom, and not tie yourself to some desk at the Ministry."
"We don't all have the luxury that you do. I can't just fuck off to university now. I've got to take up the reins when my father has been sent to prison. My family is in ruins. You get that don't you?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't have to be so bloody condescending. I'm just saying surely your father would want you to have a decent education. You should think about university. We're all doing it. I'm about to start the Wizarding college in London with Daph and Trace. Blaise is about to head to France for it. You couldn't tear Theodore away from his books if you tried. You and Goyle are the only ones not doing it. And the only reason he's not doing it because he couldn't get in if he tried."
"I don't have that option at the moment," Draco repeated. "I've got to bring in an income so my mother doesn't have to sell the manor and get rid of the House-Elves."
Pansy pursed her lips. "It's not like your mother needs five House-Elves, to be fair. And this house has like a million bedrooms. You could… you know… downsize."
Draco looked at her, insulted. "This manor has been in our family for centuries. I grew up here and I'm going to raise my family here. It's out of the question."
"I don't want to live here," she protested, "I didn't know you wanted to live here! I don't want us to live here. It's old… and full of bad memories."
"You've always known I would be taking over the manor eventually! And it's a magnificent building, it just needs a touch up after we had bloody You-Know-Who living in the drawing room for two years!"
Pansy pinched the bridge of her nose. "I… why don't we talk about this another time. We should get going to meet my parents."
Draco sighed, petulant as a child, but muttered, "Fine, but I'm not going to change my mind."
"What even is this job that you got at the Ministry then?"
"It's at the Wizengamot's administration services department."
"Doing what?"
"I'm doing admin duties for now but it can be a step up. I want to do something in the Department of Magical Sports eventually."
"So you'll be someone's glorified assistant basically?"
"I'll have my own office," said Draco coldly.
"I can't believe you're going to be working for those dickheads that sent your father to prison." She was shaking her head at him, a slight disgusted look on her face.
Draco let out a loud frustrated groan. "Have you ever thought that perhaps my father deserved to be sent to Azkaban?"
"Of course he did!" she protested, raising her voice too, "But it's like you've completely gone over to the other side!"
"There aren't any sides anymore!" he was yelling now. "The Dark Lord is gone, my father is in prison, I'm trying to make the most of the situation I've been put in! I'm lucky to have a second chance at this!"
She just stared at him, unsure of what was bothering her and why. He'd been saying one thing his whole life and now he was doing something completely different.
"What?" he asked when she didn't say anything.
She shook her head and looked away. "It's like you're suddenly going against everything you ever believed in."
"I don't have a choice," Draco muttered and fastened his travelling cloak. "It's a new world and I have to fit into it. You should try it."
She rolled her eyes and they stepped into the fireplace together.
A few weeks later, at Daphne's engagement party to Anthony Goldstein (a match strongly encouraged by her family in order to look good in the post-war world), Pansy was grabbing yet another glass of champagne off a House-Elf's tray as she tried to pay attention to the conversation the Slytherin girls were having about the décor, Daphne's dress, Anthony's goody two shoes Ravenclaw friends, and whatever else they were in the mood to criticise.
"Never thought I'd be in the same room as those cringey Patil twins again after leaving Hogs," said Millicent Bulstrode roughly. Pansy sneered.
"How's Draco then?" said Tracey, sipping her drink.
"You know I spend most of my time with you girls, I don't actually see Draco that much. He works a lot."
The girls wrinkled their noses.
"So common," said Queenie. "I never expected that of Malfoy."
"I can't believe you don't spend that much time together," said Tracey. "You're engaged for Merlin's sake."
"Doesn't mean we have to spend all our time together," said Pansy, rolling her eyes. "I have other things in my life."
"Yes, finally we're done with Hoggy, we can focus on other things," smirked Queenie.
"What, like going for drinks and shopping?" said Tracey.
Queenie laughed. "You'd think we'd be more into our uni studies but with everyone getting engaged left right and centre my social calendar is packed."
Pansy sighed, looking over at Daphne and Anthony on the other side of the Greengrass manor's grand reception room.
"Don't you think it's mad that we're getting married at this age?" she blurted out. Then she glanced at her friends. "I mean," she added quickly. "I'm obviously so happy for Daph. But shouldn't there be more… More, I don't know…"
The girls looked at her like she was a nutcase.
"But that's what Purebloods have always done," said Millicent.
"And if you've met the love of your life then why not?"
Pansy swallowed. "Yeah, I suppose… I just mean… We're so young and we're just out of Hogwarts…"
They all looked at her like she was unwell. Maybe she was the weird one. She frowned over at her best friend with her fiancée again and found herself oddly cold internally. There was a niggling feeling of something she wasn't sure what it was – boredom? Laziness? A mental state that gave rise to a passive sort of apathy.
She didn't feel excited about any of it.
She had a few more drinks to try and feel something, but found herself wondering in the midst of the buzzing room – was this when she was supposed to feel happy? Feel excited, cheerful, full of life? Then why did she feel so empty?
She made sure to seduce Draco when they got home, just to try and feel something. He was smug all next morning, reading his Morning Prophet by the breakfast table.
She turned to him and looked at him but he didn't see. And then she let out something she'd thought about for a long time, words that probably meant more than he realised.
"I'm bored," said Pansy, staring at him as she let her eggs that a House-Elf had served her go cold.
"I have to work," said Draco in a short tone from behind his paper. "Why don't you go shopping or something."
She glared at him, but he failed to notice that too.
Draco and the old Slytherin boys had set up a team together to play on weekends and evenings after work and he kept asking her to come and watch but she missed them one by one. She preferred to go for coffee at Madam Puddifoot's with her girlfriends, read her new textbooks for university, or go for happy hour at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley.
She knew she was neglecting Draco, but she felt no desire to change it. There was a carelessness about her that she wasn't sure where it had come from, or when it had started.
She wasn't sure why, when she had everything she ever dreamt of, she felt so little. Shouldn't she be ecstatic? Happy? Yet she felt numb. She didn't know what was wrong with her.
"Bletchley personally approached me at the Ministry," Draco was smirking over dinner in Hogsmeade. "He desperately needed me for the team. He remembers, of course, how talented I was at Hogwarts."
Pansy picked at her fillet steak and forced a smile. "Yes."
"He knew they needed me in order to win," Draco kept bragging. "I have such a natural ability on a broom after all. All the old lads were of course ecstatic to have me on the team. I can't believe you haven't come seen us play yet." The last part was added with a hint of resentment.
Pansy cleared her throat and looked up at him. "Yeah."
Her inattentive, unpassionate answer made Draco's face harden. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. She knew he hated when he didn't get attention or admiration.
"You're so self-centred," muttered Draco, avoiding looking at her.
Pansy narrowed her eyes. A mixture of anger and shame rose in her. "So are you. And you've always known that about both of us."
Draco rolled his eyes and swirled the Firewhiskey around in his glass. "You… used to be more fixated on me."
Pansy grimaced. "Do you hear yourself?"
"I haven't changed, Pansy," he said coldly. "You have."
"Oh, please," she snorted. "You're the one working for the Ministry."
"I don't even know why you have a problem with that."
"I…" she began angrily, but stopped herself. Why was she even angry? She didn't even know. She sighed, trying to soften herself. He didn't deserve her mood. "I don't have a problem with it."
But Draco didn't replicate her lowering her guard. "You're being a bitch," he muttered.
She looked up, hurt, and frowned at him. His eyes were cold.
"Don't call me that."
"You're being rude," he said.
She sighed and rubbed her hands on her face, drew her hands through her hair and let her head rest in her hands. She swallowed thickly, and heard Draco clear his throat. The mood was drenched, and there was no point pretending nothing was wrong.
The problem was, she wasn't sure exactly what that was. He was, presumably, even more clueless.
Note: please let me know what you think :)