five times kissed (dransy)
I.
There’s a chandelier in the foyer of Malfoy Manor. It’s massive, glittering, beautiful and Pansy’s absolutely mesmerized.
“─is this ickle Pansy?” Madam Malfoy coos.
A phantom breeze brushes the chandelier and it sings. She’s never seen anything like it; is it French? German?
“─six years old now, like Draco─” her father’s saying and Pansy wishes he’d shut it so she can hear the twinkling glass better.
“─Durmstrang, but it’s absolutely barbaric─”
The portrait of a man in a white powdered wig stares curiously at her. She looks back at him, briefly, and he winks as if he knows her.
“─think it’ll provide better opportunities. Did you know the Nott boy─”
A grey gaze captures hers. Young Malfoy’s eyes look like the morning fog that surround the Parkinson estate, perfectly mimicking that of the Amazon.
“Introduce yourself, Draco.” Master Malfoy commands.
She gazes up at the chandelier again. Draco takes her hand and bows his head to kiss it.
II.
The Express isn’t nearly as lonely with someone to ride with. They’re still so small, freshly eleven─ except for Theo, who thinks his eight month birthday headstart gives him superiority among their little group─ and gossiping about everything they’ve heard about Hogwarts.
“─a ghost in the loos? That’s preposterous, Millie─” Blaise scoffs. Millie and her Sphynx shoot him pointed looks.
The Honeydukes Express trolley had just passed as Pansy was in the loo. She squeezes past everyone’s legs to reclaim her spot in the corner, by the window, next to Draco.
“─sorted Hufflepuff they’d blast me off the family tree─” Greg shudders, talking around a mouthful of flavored beans. Pansy finds it incredible how a Pureblood hasn’t learned any manners.
“─hear Harry Potter is in our year? What if he─”
Warm fingers tap the back of her hand. Pansy turns from the window, from the beautiful Scottish scenery, to Draco, who’s got a blue acid pop in hand, holding it out for her.
“They’re your favorite, yeah?” he’s saying as she takes it.
He’s noticed then, hasn’t he? Pansy kisses him on the cheek.
III.
Something twists in her gut, bitter and ugly, and causes her jaw to clench as she watches Hermione Granger spinning across the dancefloor.
“─looks absolutely beautiful, doesn’t she─” Tracey Davis says, holding both her and Graham Romsey’s cups. Pansy hasn’t a clue where he’s run off to, but the drinks have gone flat.
“─blue is the color of the holiday season─” Daphne gushes, showing off her glittering navy gown.
Theo hums in response. His gaze hardly lingers on Granger at all; instead, his hand rests on the small of Daphne’s back, guiding her to the dancefloor for another go.
“─Skeeter says Granger will make the front page─” a passing student boasts.
Pansy leans against the wall with Tracey, neck craning above the crowd searching for their dates. She spots Draco at the refreshments table, alongside Blaise and Vincent, as he leans towards them and says something. Their heads all turn towards the dancefloor. They’re looking at Granger.
“─can do better than that, surely─” Millie reassures, notices how Draco’s gaze lingers a bit too long, takes after Pansy when she marches towards the loos.
Pansy’s never felt so stupid in a thousand galleon dress; what was she thinking with this frilly pink mess? That she was going for a part in the goblin opera? Wizarding Carnaval?
“Are you okay?” Millie asks from outside the stall. Pansy’s face is hot, eyes prickling with tears.
She wonders why she was going to kiss him at all tonight.
IV.
Pansy remembers riding the Express at the beginning of term, Draco’s head in her lap, hands wildly gesticulating as he spoke of the grand plans the Dark Lord had for him. He’s since gotten thinner, considerably so, and quieter. She barely recognizes him anymore.
“─bloody cheated, you tosser! I saw you─” Vincent yells at Greg, the burnt shreds of Exploding Snap cards floating down around him.
She and Draco are sat in the same way as the beginning of term. He’s laid out across the couch with his head in her lap, eyes glassy, staring at nothing really, while her fingers card through his hair.
“─not my fault you’ve got the reflexes of a blind owl─” Greg bites back, shuffling the deck, tongue poking out between his lips.
Draco stands, suddenly, taking Pansy’s hand and leading her from them. Towards his dorm. His empty dorm.
“─stop! I see you looking─” Vincent’s cut off by both a bang of another exploding card and the door between the corridor and Draco’s dorm shutting.
Pansy hears her heartbeat in her ears, warmth spreading from her chest towards every last inch of her skin, as the curtains of his bed shut around them. His fingers are cold against her skin.
“─have you─Merlin!─ done this before─” she’s babbling, trembling, body arching towards him, fingers carding through his hair.
His eyes, grey like the Amazon fog, catch hers from between her thighs. He slides up her body.
“Not with you.” Draco murmurs.
Pansy sees something in his gaze. Something familiar. She doesn’t get enough time to look before he kisses her.
V.
Pansy fumbles with the reais in her purse, handing over the correct amount for the best bleeding agua de coco in all of Copacabana. She only hesitates a second this time. She’s getting better at being a Muggle. Better than being a leper.
“─nossa, nunca vi alguém beber tanto─” a woman laughs behind her.
She thanks the bloke, watching as he slices at the top of a green coconut. She hardly winces at the blows anymore. He sticks a straw in the hole he’s created and she takes the drink off him.
“─mais se você comprou a blusa─” Pansy weaves her way through the crowd, sandals thwacking against the concrete down the stone wall, searching for a place to sit.
People watching has become her preferred activity. Her Portuguese is mediocre at best, so it’s a way to practice without stepping too far out of her comfort zone. She has nightmares of the muggles around her actually being aurors sent by the Ministry.
“─that her, over there─” her eyes snap up immediately at the familiar voice, one she hasn’t heard in two years, to find Daphne Greengrass in a floppy hat, pointing at her, surrounded by her mates. Their mates.
Pansy hadn’t broken any laws. Hadn’t officially joined the Death Eaters. Hadn’t hurt anybody, not really. But reacting out of emotion, out of pure fear, and offering up Potter like a pig for slaughter had destroyed the Parkinson name entirely. She didn’t have a choice but to leave.
“─my bleeding fucking heart─” Millie shrieks, breaking off from the group to meet Pansy in a bone-crushing embrace.
Tears prick at her eyes, her drink all but spills onto the sidewalk, and her chest heaves with the tears she hasn’t let herself cry since fleeing Britain. Daphne joins them next, then Blaise, then Theo, then Greg, and she feels Vincent’s absent in the pit of her stomach. Pansy hugs them all, wiping at her eyes, listening to them speak over each other excitedly.
“─disclose your location to anyone! Merlin, Pans, who do you think─” Daphne’s scolding, holding Pansy’s face in her hands before throwing her hand over her forehead in theatrics.
Pansy’s apologizing to her. She apologizes to all of them, trying to say she was scared, trying to explain she’d thought them better off without her, not daring to ask about Draco because her heart still burns whenever she thinks of him.
“─hasn’t been the same without you─” Greg picks her up by the waist, spinning her around, and she laughs.
“─come back to Britain, yeah? We won’t let anything─” Theo kisses her forehead.
Theo’s cheeks are fuller than they used to be. He looks happier than last time she saw him. If the son of a Death Eater can be happy, surely she can, right? Maybe things have changed.
“─tracking you; we should become fucking detectives, really─” Blaise gripes, but his tone doesn’t match the tender way he’s holding onto her shoulders, smoothing her hair, matching her gaze.
Someone clears their throat. Pansy looks over Blaise’s shoulder to find one Draco Malfoy in a fucking floral print shirt, hands nervously rubbing at his thighs, left forearm wrapped up in sellotape and is that─ did he─ what happened to─
His Amazon gaze captures hers. Her lungs twist around her heart, threatening to break out of her chest. Pansy doesn’t realize she’s crying, too focused on how he hands her a blue acid pop instead, and says:
“Your favorite, yeah?”
Takes her hand, bows his head to kiss it.
