(no subject)
I've been playing with this idea for quite some time now, and I thought I'd write it. I've been writing this for the past couple of days, tweaking and editing. Originally, the character Hermione was talking to was Ginny. But there was a topic in their conversation that only Pansy would know. I'm not exactly sure if this fic works, but if it doesn't...well I might take it down. Three should be a second part, but I may or may not write the next part, which is in Draco's POV. So to those who will reads this, let me know your thoughts...even if you think it's ridiculous or it sucks. Was it too fast or like it was rushed? :)
Title:...I haven't thought of the title yet. Maybe because I suck at that. Hee...
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: PG
Words: 1,470
Summary: Pansy and Hermione talk about a certain male Slytherin
AN: Unbeta-ed, ok? So does anyone want to do that for me? *bats eyelashes* And I might rewrite this.
Hermione looked at him from afar, trying to remember when she stopped seeing him as the ferret. It had been five years after the defeat of Voldemort, and they were now celebrating and commemorating all those who participated in the war. But even after all these years Draco Malfoy was still a git. He stopped tormenting them a long time ago, but there was still an arrogant air about him. He was smart and witty, and had a sharp tongue that rivaled hers.
Maybe it was that one early morning that changed everything. Everyone at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix had been asleep, but Hermione tossed and turned in her bed. Finally admitting defeat she went down to the kitchen when she realized that it was a futile attempt. Autumn had been drawing to a close. Leaves had fallen and the crisp air seeped into the walls, making her shiver. She pulled her robes closer to her body and suddenly her nostrils detected a dark yet delicious scent. Tiptoeing quietly, she was surprised to see a blond man sitting by the table alone.
It started with barely polite greetings. Another hot chocolate was conjured for Hermione. She savored the rich bittersweet taste of the chocolate, filling her senses. They had their first conversation, where they didn’t have the urge to hex each other to next century. She hadn’t noticed that the skies were starting to turn bluish orange until Draco’s face conjured up a small smile. He pulled her to her feet, leading her up the stairs to the top floor of the building. They sat quietly together, basking in each other’s presence. The sun rose, casting a glow over the world, brightening even the deepest recesses.
“He’s in love with you, you know,” Pansy’s voice said from behind her.
She turned to face raven-haired beauty. “What?” she asked, confused. Pansy had been another surprise for the Order. Who would have thought that this Slytherin’s family was never a supporter of the Dark Lord. Surprisingly, they had gotten along well and had become good friends.
“Draco, he’s in love with you,” Pansy repeated.
Hermione’s eyes widened. “How do you know?” she asked, surprised.
A shoulder lifted. “I just know.”
“Perhaps you can tell me then maybe I’ll believe you,” Hermione said dryly.
She gave her a look. “Draco’s sarcasm has rubbed of on you. But to answer you question, it’s in the way he looks at you,” she told her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“What do you mean it’s in the way he looks at me? How does he look at me? And how do you know?” Hermione asked, words tumbling out her mouth faster than the fluttering wings of a snitch.
“He looks at you as if he can’t figure you out. I can see the longing in his eyes. He wants you, but he knows he can't have you,” she said, not knowing how else to make the stubbonr Gryffindor understand.
“That's the best explanation you could come up with?” Hermione questioned, crossing her arms over her chest, the first one, then the other.
Pansy rolled her eyes. “I know you’re smart and you’ve always relied on research, charts, graphs, and your books when something is unclear to you. There always has to be an explanation and a basis. It has been very useful in for the Order. But Granger, there are some things that you just can’t explain…like this thing between you and Draco.”
“What thing? There isn’t a thing between me and Draco.”
She raised an eyebrow. “There isn’t? Can tell me then why I always feel as though I’m in an oven every time you’re both in the same room? There seems to be this tension in the air so thick that I can hardly breath.”
“Everyone?” she asked. Hermione continued to watch him from the corner of her eyes.
“Yes. There’s Blaise, Dumbledore, Harry, and Weaslette just to name a few.” Pansy said. Was she aware that her expression mirrored his when she looked at him?
Hermione waved her hand. “It’s just your overactive imaginations, Parkinson. And I’m getting married to Ron. You know that,” she said softly, looking down at her finger, the diamond ring glittering in the soft lights of the ballroom.
It was no surprise when Ron asked her to marry him. It was like she knew all along that their relationship would lead to that. What could she do but say yes? She loved Ron. She truly did. He tolerated her bossy attitude, and he made her feel safe. That was enough, wasn’t it?
Draco could never give her she needed. With him everything was uncertain as the weather. He confused her. One minute he was teasing her and suddenly he would scowl and leave her staring at his back. And he made her feel…things she hadn’t ever felt before. Her heart would flutter and her face would flush every time he was near her. Her stomach twisted in knots when she would see him with another woman. With Ron, she was sure what the calmness that would wash over her when she was with him meant: security and contentment.
“I know you love Ron, but are you in love with him?” Pansy asked, waiting patiently.
Two seconds. Five. Seven.
“Yes.” She looked away and pushed a strand of unruly curls behind her ear, her hand shaking like a droplet of water on a leaf. Pansy had come too close to the truth. She knew she was right. Everyone was just waiting for them to get together. Mrs. Weasley threw her hands around her and cried upon learning that she and Ron were dating. They were the golden couple. But at the back of her mind, she knew it was wrong because she wasn’t in love with him. Everyday had she tried to convince herself that she was. “I’m happy with Ron, Pansy,” she said unconvincingly.
Pansy tilted her head, closely watching Hermione. She knew that this witch had always been stubborn. And this time though, she refused to “see” what was obviously there. “Is that enough for you? You just want to be content? Don’t you want to be deliriously and insanely happy?”
Hermione looked down, seemingly interested in her feet. “Of course I do. But I’m not lucky like that.”
“That’s a load of shit, Granger,” Pansy said, enunciating every word. “You know that.” She placed her hands on her hips, looking like a mother reprimanding her child.
Hermione shook her head sadly. “And what can he possibly see in me? I’m a mudblood to him remember?” she continued, the pitch of her voice increasing.
“He has never called you that for the past five years!” Pansy exclaimed.
A lump formed in her throat, making it hard for her to speak. This conversation was distressing her. She really wanted to believe Pansy, but she just couldn’t. If everything the Slytherin had said was true, how come he didn’t do anything about it? He had always been aggressive and did everything to get what he wanted. If she would apply simple logic, Pansy’s theory would be wrong.
Draco wants Hermione
Draco gets what he wants.
Therefore, Draco gets Hermione?
That was incorrect, wasn’t it? It didn’t make sense. It didn’t hold.
Merlin, this wasn’t how she expected her night to go. She had promised herself that she would enjoy herself. Unfortunately, she was unsuccessful. Dinner was a disaster. She wanted to hex the person who did the seating arrangement. Why did they have to place her beside Draco? All throughout the feast, her arm brushed against his, making her tingle all over. When she was dancing with Ron, she did nothing but look over his shoulder and look for a silvery blond head. Those times she spotted him dancing with another woman, holding her close to his body. After the three songs she excused herself from Ron, telling him she her feet hurt. She didn’t even care that he was now dancing with Luna.
“And what about those other women? I think he has dated the all of the witches here in Britain,” she spat bitterly, her face reddening. “Did he even love any one of them? Is he even capable of that?”
Pansy looked at Hermione’s, her intense gaze pinning her in place. “No he did not love any of them.”
At the Gryffindor’s raised eyebrows she explained slowly, “Let me tell you something about the Malfoy men. A Malfoy may have hundreds of lovers, but there will be only one woman for him.”
Confusion swirled in Hermione’s eyes.
“What I’m telling you, Hermione, is that Draco Malfoy will love only you… passionately and desperately for the rest of his life.”
TBC?