Un-Bring-Upables and the Meanings Underneath, Told in Five (Colin, Pansy)
Title: Un-Bring-Upables and the Meanings Underneath, Told in Five
Author: Ian Anon (physixxx)
Category: Gen, slash implied
Characters: Colin, Pansy (Drolin mentioned; Drarry implied)
Summary: Pansy finds the strength to ask Colin for help.
Warning: I doubt it's angsty, per se. But's its rather morose. I guess 'smut-free' is a warning, yes?
Challenge(s): #32 slythindor100
Prompt: "You've been the only thing that's right,
In all I've done...
Word Count: 2763
A/N: I love Colin. Sorry, I do. And, after reading fic after fic where he's creepy, I decided to throw a little meta in there, explaining why he's a brilliant character. Pay attention to Pansy's words; she's channeling me.
1.
Colin likes the far corner of the library, the one where no one -- namely Madam Pince -- can see him. Stacks of magic tomes blocks wandering eyes from watching him, and the semi-secluded area is far enough away from the bustling entrance, where most of the noise -- and thus Madam Pince -- reside. Plus, Hermione Granger sits none too far from where he usually did, so, should he need some help, she is within reach. It's the perfect situation, really, for someone who frequents the library more and more with each passing day.
Across from his table, some feet away, light from the warm, spring sun shines through a window. Sometimes, Colin stares blankly at the beams of sunlight accentuated by the rise and fall of minute dust particles that, if you squint really hard, seems to waltz about the air. Colin often berates himself for being so easily distracted by it.
Hunched over his tomes, Colin is startled by the sudden shadow cast over him. No longer the twitchy student he once was, he hardly moves as his eyes shoot up. Standing in front of him, her manicured fingers stroking the back of the chair, is the one Slytherin Colin never thought would ever be seen with him: Pansy Parkinson (who, it does well to point out, manages to look everywhere at everything around her except Colin).
Finally, Colin clears his throat. "Yes?"
Pansy has the nerve to look surprised. "Oh, hullo, Creevey. I didn't see you there."
Likely story.
Without an invitation, Pansy pulls out the chair on the other side of the desk and takes her seat. "I hate Charms, you know?"
Colin didn't know, of course. "What?"
"Charms. I hate it. Never been good at it. Especially temporal-based charms, which, of course, is part of my NEWTS." Coldly, she glances around her, visibly relaxing a fraction when she realises there's no one around.
"Why'd you take Advanced Charms, then?" Colin asks, his scowl replaced with an expression far more inquisitional.
"My mum," Pansy answers.
"Oh. Fair enough."
"It's just... by the time we get to NEWTS-levels, it's a lot of theory -- magical theory. And, I simply don't see the point of it."
Colin straightens slightly at this, feeling the need to defend the subject. "Well, it's more so you could figure out how things work, innit? I mean, then you could make your own. Charms, I mean. All of the more powerful wizards know how to do this, including Dumbledore and..."
He stops abruptly, eyes widening as he remembers who he is talking to. Quickly, he returns his attention to his book and starts writing almost frantically on the parchment in his lap.
Seconds pass, but for Colin it seems an eternity, one big, uncomfortable eternity. Finally, Pansy breaks the silence.
"I hear you're fair at Charms."
He stops writing, but doesn't look up. "I'm more than 'fair'."
"Certainly," Pansy says in a tone more befitting a mother trying to placate her attention-starved child. Colin fully expected a pat on the leg followed by a 'that's nice, dear'. It only inflamed him more. If Pansy notices this, she certainly gives no outward sign.
"Do you come here often, then?"
"Pansy Parkinson, are you hitting on me?"
With a roll of her eyes (Colin finds it hard to believe that those are her real eyes as much as she rolls them, surely one would have fallen out by now), Pansy retorts, "Oh, tosh. Me? Hit on a Creevey? Please. I have enough Potter-obsessed men in my life without adding to the stable. Far too many, in fact."
Colin's cheeks redden at the implication of her riposte. "I'm not 'obsessed'..." he mumbles.
"Oh, that's right. I forget: Gryffindors don't 'obsess'... they 'fall in love'." Even through her girlish giggle, the words are biting. Colin isn't 'in love' with Harry, he just... thinks he's funny, and smart, and brave, and fit, and beautiful, and...
Colin shakes the thoughts from his mind. Pansy titters again, victoriously, bringing a hand to her mouth.
"Fine," Colin says, slamming his book closed. "Meet me here tomorrow night at eight o'clock. If you're late, I'm leaving." With that, Colin stands, stuffs his book and parchment into his bookbag, and stomps off.
2.
"You're very much like Him, you know?" Pansy asks, breaking the silence of the library. Leaning back in her chair, she sucks on the end of her quill as her Charms book lays on her lap. The timbre in her voice suggests that she's annoyed that the very thought had struck her, as if it were an annoying nephew showing off for attention. The sunlight coming in from the window behind her almost makes her look angelic, giving her a brilliant aura that helps shadow her face and obscure the details of her expression. Colin doesn't know if she's making fun of him or giving him a compliment; he defaults to the former.
Hunch over his readings, he stops scribbling notes on his parchment to look quizzically at Pansy, his features screwed up in confusion. "Like You-Know-Who?"
Even through the shadows, Colin can tell she's rolling her eyes. "Yes, because I'm sure The Dark Lord simply adores puppies."
Colin ducks his head, pouting. "I don't just like puppies, you know?" he mutters under his breath.
Giving an exasperated sigh, she lays the book atop the table and leans into it. Colin swallows hard, nervous as Pansy's eyes roam over his body, lingering about his face as if memorizing every angle. She opens her mouth slightly, licking her bottom lip before biting a corner between her teeth.
"But really... you radiate, you know? Just like He does"
Colin didn't know.
"Yes, just like Him," Pansy adds. She looks down at her book again, licking her fingertips before flipping to the next page. "Except his burns and people are either drawn to it -- like a bug would be -- or repelled by it. They either flock to it or turn away from it."
Colin doesn't move, barely breathes. He hasn't a clue what Pansy's on about and suddenly, he wishes he never agreed to tutor her. Really? A Slytherin asking for help from a Gryffindor? There must be some dastardly plot afoot, Colin muses. Certainly she was simply there to taunt and torture the lad.
After a beat, Pansy looks into his eyes once more. There's nothing discernible in her expression. No love, yet no contempt, either. It's as though she's merely stating a fact on the matter.
"You, on the other hand," she says, almost breathing the words. "Are more like a painting."
"A... a what?"
"A painting in an art gallery... with a little spotlight on it. They love you or hate you, but they have to look at you."
As if that answers Colin's unspoken question about this cryptic discussion, Pansy retreats back into her book, scribbling notes on her parchment.
Colin is almost afraid to ask, certainly afraid of the answer. "Do... do you hate me?"
Pansy gives a telling smile -- actually smiles -- and answers, "I hate Charms and Magical Theory, Colin."
Colin knows it's the end of this conversation and understands the meaning underneath her answer.
3.
"Tell me I'm beautiful," Pansy says.
She sits under a tree, gazing longingly at The Great Lake. Her Charms book isn't even open; she's long-since dropped the facade that was this particular study session.
Colin sits, cross legged, with his text opened in his lap, jotting notes in his journal. They sit farther than arms-length apart, connected only by the breeze that rustles their hair. Pansy's seems far heavier and weighted down than Colin's, whose curls bounce around as though reaching for something unseen. His lips curl up into a smile, but he doesn't look at her.
"You hate it when I'm redundant," he replies. "So, why say it?"
Impressed, Pansy smacks her lips. "Why, Colin. I'll make a Slytherin of you, yet."
He blushes. He wants to tell her that, yes, in the sunlight, at this angle, wearing those clothes, sitting under that tree, she is quite fit. He wants to tell her that he would love to photograph her. He wants her to know that, were he straight (and not a Gryffindor) that it'd be Pansy he would obsess over and not Harry Potter.
"After all, a Slytherin is what you'll need to be if you want to get Him," she says, almost as an after-thought.
"Draco?"
Exasperation. "No, imbecile. The other Him."
"Oh."
"He likes things... dark and evil. He likes to believe that He -- and He, alone -- can rescue them, save them. He hopes, and somewhat futilely, that He is enough to make his leopard change its spots." Pansy pulls her knees to her chest, wraps her arms around them, and rests her head, staring pointedly at Colin.
Colin wants to scream at her, to defend the unrequited love he's chosen. Deep inside, however, he knows she's right.
"Did you know me and Draco used to... uhm..."
Pansy perks up, mouth agape and slapped silent.
"My third year. It was before... before Cedric..."
"That explains his behaviour," she says. "Why'd you stop?"
"After Harry said You-Know-Who was alive, I knew -- being who Draco was and what I was -- that I couldn't have from him what I wanted."
"Can anyone?" Pansy asks to no one, the words escaping her before she can stop them. She winces and looks away, refusing to meet Colin's eyes when he turns his attention on her.
Colin takes a deep breath before continuing, "Besides, I think he thought me Innocence Personified."
"Curruptible, then." Pansy understands, Colin mused. "But you're not, are you? At least, not in the way he thought." Pansy truly understands. She didn't quite ask a question; rather, made an observation.
"Not after our first night together," Colin answers with a feral grin.
They burst into fits of giggles, tickled by the meaning underneath.
4
They never discuss politics, blood issues are strictly forbidden. These are unwritten rules when you have two people from opposite sides of a fence who have a silent agreement to be amicable in some form or another, for some reason or another. It's surprising to Colin, then, when Pansy brings it up as they sit in their usual spot in the library.
"You're quite good at magic," she says, sitting so close he can smell subtle traces of her perfume. It seems such an intimate thing to Colin, really, that he can smell her. He's never been able to before, or, if he had, he simply took no notice of it. So, after a couple of months of tutoring, to be able to smell her now seems a trifle like... giving, like it's an intimate exchange. Yet, it's such a simple thing, when one thinks about it; mainly because, well... one rarely thinks about it.
"You and your brother. And not just Charms, either."
"Why do you sound so surprised?" Colin asks, leaning in to the question.
"Well, because... well..." Pansy stammers, straightening in her seat. There's a faint grimace on her face as it dawns on her that she's brought up an Un-Bring-Upable.
"Because I'm a Muggleborn?"
She's surprised, and visibly so; not that Colin knew what she was referring to, he's far from dim. Rather, that there was hardly any resentment or derision in the tone.
"Why'd you ask me? To tutor you, I mean?"
Pansy ponders the question a moment longer than usual. "Well, you do reasonably well in classes, I hear. You can't be as daft as you seem, considering you were petrified your first year for most of the term, yet still managed to pass. Someone like Professor Flitwick would certainly give you leeway, but Professor Snape wouldn't care. You passed Potions. So you must be... intelligent. Of sorts."
"Of sorts..?!"
"I mean, there was the issue of the Muggle camera. I remember Marcus Flint making fun of some upper-level Ravenclaw because he couldn't figure out how to make his... erm... Runman, is it?"
"Walkman?"
"Yes, that's it. Walk. Man. Anyway, this sixth-year Ravenclaw couldn't figure out how to make his Walkman work, but here's this First-Year -- and Muggleborn to boot -- walking around with a perfectly functioning camera that he certainly did not buy at Diagon Alley because no shop sells them there. At least, not then."
Inwardly, Colin beams at the compliments and, if he had an extra arm, he'd certainly be patting himself on the back.
"Then there were the ‘Potter-Stinks’ badges. Draco didn't make those, you know? Selene Withers, a seventh-year, did. And there you were, with your first-year brother, almost breaking the Charm that took her weeks to perfect."
"We never could undo the Charm, though."
"No, but you got close."
"But that doesn't explain why me, though. Not really. I mean, Blaise Zabini is brilliant at Charms. Why not him?"
"Because Zabini has friends..."
If Pansy thought she was being subtle, she was sadly mistaken. Colin was fully aware of her comment's true meaning. That night, much to the chagrin of his brother, Colin went to bed without supper.
5
They stand far away from each other as they wait for the Hogwarts Express, Pansy with her friends (notably Zabini and Nott, and most notably not with Draco, who is nowhere to be found) and Colin with his brother. Inexplicably, he keeps glancing her way. He doesn't know what he expects her to do or say, maybe 'thank you' or a simple, affirming nod. He gets nothing until the train comes. Pansy hangs back as her cohorts board, pretending to dust off and straighten her flawless robes.
"Go on, Dennis. I'll be there in a moment."
Clueless, Dennis scampers off, trunks in tow. Colin walks slowly and steadily to Pansy. He clears his throat and Pansy has the nerve to look surprised.
"Oh! Hullo, Colin. I didn't see you there."
He can't help but smile despite the uncomfortable silence that hangs over these two who, by all accounts, should hate each other's guts. The only problem is, they don't.
Pansy rolls her eyes. "Oh, don't make me say It, Colin."
Colin kicks a pebble, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Heaven forbid."
"Slytherins aren't very good saying It. So you shouldn't expect me to; it’s rude. I passed Advanced Charms, told Professor Flitwick who tutored me... That should be enough."
And, for Colin, it is. Plenty enough.
He looks up to see Harry, not quite in the distance, walk sheepishly out of the loo that had been fenced off with a sign reading: 'Out of Order'. His hair is far more mussed than usual, his cheeks flushed red, and he's looking both sated and apprehensive at the same time.
"Wait for it," Pansy chides, watching the same scene.
Harry steps on the train, but not before giving one final glance towards the restroom, where Draco Malfoy has just walked out of, in the middle of tucking in his white, usually flawlessly-pressed, Oxford shirt in his trousers. He stops, looks at Harry; a ghost of a smile creeps on his face.
"I got an 'E' in Advanced Charms," Pansy says, turning to face Colin. "But you didn't get Harry. Doesn't seem quite fair, does it?"
"I may not expect you to say 'thank you', Pansy," Colin replies, surprised that he's not more hurt by the Big Reveal, which he already knew if he were more honest with himself. "But I do fully expect you to say 'I told you so'. So, go on then." He spreads his arms to the side and juts out his chin, ready for the blow.
Instead, Pansy simply walks closer and wraps her arms around him, kissing him on his cheek. Before pulling away, she whispered "I already have," so soft he almost didn't hear it.
They pull apart, staring at each other. Pansy finds herself refusing to bring up anything that might be an Un-Bring-Upable.
Finally, her old visage falls back on her face. Colin can see clearly the deconstruction of a friend and the rebirth of a rival. As she walks backwards to board the train, pulling her trunks with her, she calls out, "Admittedly, you've been the only thing that's right, in all I've done... at least this school year."
Colin tries to smile, but he can't.
Pansy gives him a final once-over. "I hope I never see you again, Colin Creevey," she says, her voice subdued and foreboding, yet soft. Without waiting for a response, Pansy Parkinson boards the train, leaving Hogwarts and Colin behind.
Colin is saddened, but not in a way one might expect, because he understands the Meaning Underneath.
In a world about to be torn apart by War; he, too, hopes that they never see each other again.