Character/Pairing: Pansy; Pansy/Hermione (hinted), Harry/Draco (mention)
Warnings: high amount of alcohol consumed, and a little wee of angst
Word Count: 738
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Publishing Plc. and Scholastic Inc., and Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This story is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Summary: Pansy isn't sure about what awaits her in her returning from a long trip.
A/N: Written for mini_fest, using prompts 28. A Christmas alone, from List #1, and 4. Snowfall and 36. Champagne, from List #2. Also written using prompt #23. Memories from 25moments prompt table.
The young woman danced around the room humming giddily at the sound of Christmas songs coming from next door. She had just filled a flute with fine French champagne, and as she reached the window and leant closer to the glass, she saw it was already empty. Outside, children seemed delighted at the falling snow, running around screaming and throwing snowballs at each other.
She made a face, the flute clapping against the windowpane. Her eyes rested on a group of giggling girls standing in the doorway of the house across the street. Now, that was a kind of enjoyment she could take in. She sighed, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear; she recalled the times she had been in the same position, alongside with Daphne, giggling while watching the boys throw snowballs in the gardens of Malfoy Manor.
Draco tried to get her to participate in the game a few times, but that was the only thing she always denied him. He gave in after a little insistence.
The woman sighed again, stepping away from the window. She walked over to the table to refill the flute. This was the third bottle she’d consumed that night, but she didn’t care. In her shoes, who would? She was back home, only there was no one to be back to.
She picked up the letter lying on the table and read those words for the tenth time.
I know you have returned to England. I was hoping you would get in touch to tell me about your stay in France, but I haven’t heard a word from you since your arrival.
I am writing to you because I got tired of waiting.
How are you doing? Don’t you love me anymore? How are you planning to spend the holidays? I was wondering if you wanted to spend it here, in our flat.
The war has been over for two years already, dear, there’s no need for you to continue avoiding Harry. I am sure he understands that you acted that way because you were stressed out and afraid for you own life. It was you who insisted that I should try to approach him after it all ended, that he was likely to give me a chance. Remember that?
I don’t know if you meant this kind of chance, but knowing you like I do, I am positive that it was exactly what you meant. Only you wouldn’t tell me back then, would you?
You knew that if you did, I’d probably have laughed in your face.
Anyway, you know I am to thank you over and over because of your counselling. It’s not supposed to reach anyone else’s ear, though.
Stop being so childish and come spend Christmas with us. What’s the point of staying home alone? I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.
P.S. Granger, I mean, Hermione, will be here also. Do you really think I didn’t notice you two cosying up after the war? I won’t say it wasn't surprising.
Pansy couldn’t help laughing.
“Oh Draco darling…” She shook her head, the laugh fading into a broad smile.
She read the letter one more time, wondering how Granger would be. What if she had got together with Weasley? But then why would Draco mention her in his letter, and why would he want Pansy to share the same room with the couple? No, the likelihood of it was very small. Draco wouldn’t do that to her.
Did the mention of Granger mean that she still thought about her? Did she constantly harass Draco with questions about her?
Pansy felt a warmth filling her chest, but it scared the hell out of her more than anything else. She didn’t want to rely on her feelings. She was a… Slytherin? Great! She was a Slytherin that had advised her best friend to follow his feelings for The-Boy-Who-Lived. That was a lame excuse; being Slytherin didn’t mean being heartless, no matter what the others thought.
However, she was afraid of hurting, afraid of one day, in the middle of a heated argument, throwing the ‘m’ word to the other girl and screwing everything up. She didn’t think she could bear losing her partner like this.
Drinking her champagne, she looked down at the letter once more, shaking her head.
“You said you wouldn’t take a ‘no’ for an answer, darling.”