Owl to Draco Malfoy
Characters: Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy
Location: Respective locations
Date: 27th August, 1999, mid-morning
Status: Open
Summary: Not sure what to say, but not knowing is worse
Completion: Complete
She had tried to start this owl since Sunday. As much as she hated it, she kept coming back to Saturday night, and the way things had gone.
Draco Malfoy.
He hadn't even spoken to her. Was she supposed to have seen him, and chased over to him, embarrassing him and herself? She had thought he wanted to talk with her; now, she was more confused than before. He had offered to help her shop for furniture; did it still stand? Her mind couldn't turn it off. She knew she had been drinking; maybe she had made a fool of herself?
She cursed and threw herself onto the small couch she had in her large studio workshop. She hated this. She was famous. She was well known, and pursued by many. All of these people, wanting a piece of her, and the only person she wanted was playing vague and distant. She had started a dozen notes, and then incinerated them as soon as she had written them. Her house-elves were worried about her, sensitive to her mood which seemed to be slightly erratic. She threw her hands up in the air. She just had to get over it. She would politely decline his help. He hadn't explained; she didn't expect him to. She wasn't even sure if the offer still stood. She thought the only way she was going to find out was to ask him.
Dear Draco,
It was a shame we didn't get to spend more time with each other on Saturday. I can only guess that you are busier than you realized. The party was lovely. Seeing old house mates made me slightly nostalgic. I think we are gathering again, but the next time will be at my new flat. I am not sure when I will be sponsoring that event; I have to get it furnished first.
Draco,it was nice to catch sight of you, however briefly. Take care of yourself. Let me know if you still have time for me, for furniture shopping.
Your friend,
Pansy
She read it and re-read it again; it was boring and vague. She wanted to ask his what was wrong. She wanted to find out why he had not spoken to her, and then seemed to disappear from the evening. What had happened? But she wasn't sure how probing she be in her questioning. The yo-yoing effect of friendship made her stomach queasy and her head hurt. She thought she'd see what he said to this little note. If he didn't want to help, she was more than willing to let Millie lend her a hand.
She knew she wanted to send Millie something, to thank her for putting the evening together. But she had been exceedingly distracted by this first owl. Now that it was settled, she went over her note again, and added a more personal handwritten part,
P.S.
Are you okay? Please, Draco, don't shut me out again. I don't think I could weather that particular storm again. I am more fragile than I seem. Would you meet with me?
She looked at what she had just written, and shook her head, agitated and cross. She crossed it out, and just added some simple words, hoping they conveyed her meaning.
P.S.
Draco, I am here for you, if you should need me.
Pans
She looked at those words. Still a bit cold, but she wasn't sure about pouring her heart out the parchment. She couldn't believe he'd left, without even saying a word. The more she thought about that, the more she thought she was wrong to think he was still interested in her.
Her house-elves were looking at her, their big eyes full of concern for her mood, and she looked up, appreciating their attention, "Here," she said, handing them the note, "Use the owl and send this, would you? I know we need to finish up that first batch of dresses," and she rose, and moved to the table, wanting to progress and put her mind at peace.
Location: Respective locations
Date: 27th August, 1999, mid-morning
Status: Open
Summary: Not sure what to say, but not knowing is worse
Completion: Complete
She had tried to start this owl since Sunday. As much as she hated it, she kept coming back to Saturday night, and the way things had gone.
Draco Malfoy.
He hadn't even spoken to her. Was she supposed to have seen him, and chased over to him, embarrassing him and herself? She had thought he wanted to talk with her; now, she was more confused than before. He had offered to help her shop for furniture; did it still stand? Her mind couldn't turn it off. She knew she had been drinking; maybe she had made a fool of herself?
She cursed and threw herself onto the small couch she had in her large studio workshop. She hated this. She was famous. She was well known, and pursued by many. All of these people, wanting a piece of her, and the only person she wanted was playing vague and distant. She had started a dozen notes, and then incinerated them as soon as she had written them. Her house-elves were worried about her, sensitive to her mood which seemed to be slightly erratic. She threw her hands up in the air. She just had to get over it. She would politely decline his help. He hadn't explained; she didn't expect him to. She wasn't even sure if the offer still stood. She thought the only way she was going to find out was to ask him.
Dear Draco,
It was a shame we didn't get to spend more time with each other on Saturday. I can only guess that you are busier than you realized. The party was lovely. Seeing old house mates made me slightly nostalgic. I think we are gathering again, but the next time will be at my new flat. I am not sure when I will be sponsoring that event; I have to get it furnished first.
Draco,it was nice to catch sight of you, however briefly. Take care of yourself. Let me know if you still have time for me, for furniture shopping.
Your friend,
Pansy
She read it and re-read it again; it was boring and vague. She wanted to ask his what was wrong. She wanted to find out why he had not spoken to her, and then seemed to disappear from the evening. What had happened? But she wasn't sure how probing she be in her questioning. The yo-yoing effect of friendship made her stomach queasy and her head hurt. She thought she'd see what he said to this little note. If he didn't want to help, she was more than willing to let Millie lend her a hand.
She knew she wanted to send Millie something, to thank her for putting the evening together. But she had been exceedingly distracted by this first owl. Now that it was settled, she went over her note again, and added a more personal handwritten part,
P.S.
Are you okay? Please, Draco, don't shut me out again. I don't think I could weather that particular storm again. I am more fragile than I seem. Would you meet with me?
She looked at what she had just written, and shook her head, agitated and cross. She crossed it out, and just added some simple words, hoping they conveyed her meaning.
P.S.
Draco, I am here for you, if you should need me.
Pans
She looked at those words. Still a bit cold, but she wasn't sure about pouring her heart out the parchment. She couldn't believe he'd left, without even saying a word. The more she thought about that, the more she thought she was wrong to think he was still interested in her.
Her house-elves were looking at her, their big eyes full of concern for her mood, and she looked up, appreciating their attention, "Here," she said, handing them the note, "Use the owl and send this, would you? I know we need to finish up that first batch of dresses," and she rose, and moved to the table, wanting to progress and put her mind at peace.