Rating:
PG
House:
Astronomy Tower
Ships:
Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Pansy Parkinson
Genres:
Romance Mystery
Era:
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Spoilers:
Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 01/19/2006
Updated: 01/19/2006
Words: 1,769
Chapters: 1
Hits: 990

Love Grows No Weaker

EmilyWood

Story Summary:
Twelve years after the final battle, Pansy meets a stranger at a masquerade who reminds her of someone from her past. ONE SHOT

Chapter 01

Posted:
01/19/2006
Hits:
990


Pansy made her way across the dance floor. It had been too long since she had been to such a formal event. Of course, no one would even look at her nowadays had this not been a masquerade. She was an old widow now. Well, not exactly old... she was only twenty-eight, but much too old to remarry. Everyone had known her late husband, Theodore Nott, and no one dared to make his spirit angry by allowing her to remarry.

But this was a masquerade. Pansy could be whatever she pleased. Tonight she was an Egyptian Princess in long golden robes of silk and a mask of purple and gold gems that glistened in the candlelight.

And tonight she could marry whatever wizard she pleased, perhaps a handsome bloke who lived on the countryside or a rich man within the Ministry. It didn't matter to Pansy. If she didn't get what she wished, she could always make her way as Mrs. Zabini had done, getting rid of every husband that was of no great importance to her.

Pansy smiled at the men who stared as she walked by. It amazed her how men could drool over a beautiful woman without knowing what she looked like beneath her mask. No one could see how beautiful Pansy really was because all they saw was Theodore Nott's wife.

Of course, it wouldn't have been that way if things had gone the way they were supposed to. Pansy had always dreamt of marrying Draco Malfoy; their parents had planned it. But when Draco became a Death Eater and was unable to fulfil his mission, he went into hiding. Some say he moved to the Americas and started a new life there, some say he died. All Pansy knew was that the day Draco left was the day her life changed. Her parents forced her to marry another. And that was how she came to marrying Theodore.

But that was before. He was long since dead. Killed in battle by a member of the Order, a Weasley, if she wasn't mistaken. Pansy was her own woman once again. Pansy Parkinson, no longer Nott.

As Pansy strolled around the ballroom, she noted the men who were staring, all of them in their costumes along with a sly grin that somehow said, 'I want her.'

But Pansy wasn't one to just give herself to any man. He had to have something special, that kind of spark.

Just when Pansy thought there was no man worthy enough for her, she was proved wrong. A man, about her age from what she could tell, was standing to the side of the dance floor. He was wearing black robes and a matching black mask that stretched across his eyes. Pansy couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt like she knew him from somewhere.

She strutted across the room, ignoring the gawking men. She marched straight toward him. But he, unlike the others, barely paid mind to the Egyptian princess.

'Would you care to dance?' she said eloquently.

'Is this a new custom?' he said in response. 'A woman asking a gentleman to dance?'

'My parents always encouraged me to be bold,' Pansy said curtly, 'and go after what I most desire.'

'Do you often get what you desire?'

'Yes,' Pansy said forcefully, her response just daring him to ask another question.

'You're trying to frighten me into agreeing to dance with you,' he pointed out. 'Do you think that will incline my decision?'

'Yes.'

'You seem very confident in your answer,' the man said plainly.

'I am a naturally confident person,' Pansy told him.

'Are you proud of yourself for that?'

'You ask a lot of questions, yet you still have not answered mine, Mr...?'

'William. Just William,' he said stiffly. 'And you are?'

'Pamela,' Pansy said, thinking quickly. 'Pamela Parker.'

'Very nice to meet you Mrs. Parker,' William said, shaking her hand.

'It's Miss Parker,' Pansy corrected him.

'Ah...' he said vaguely.

'Now, William, would you do me the honour of this dance?' Pansy said hastily.

William grinned. He took her hand and they headed out onto the dance floor. He took her right hand in his left and let his other rest upon her waist. The music started up and they began to glide across the floor, William leading her.

'You told me that you were very bold and confident, but I have noticed that I seem to be leading this dance,' William said.

'Yes,' Pansy said, 'but while I am confident and bold, I am more importantly a woman. A woman does not lead.' A woman is nothing more than a trophy for the man to show off to other men. Theodore had told her that when she wanted to get a job in the Ministry after he lost his.

'Why would you say that?' William asked. 'You have shown me already that women do, in fact, lead. You asked me to dance, I might remind you. You lead the entire dance.'

He stopped leading the dance. 'Lead us, Miss Parker,' William offered.

Pansy was unable to turn down an offer like that. She immediately began leading the dance, gracefully spinning and drifting in every which way.

'You were quite wrong,' he said arrogantly. 'Women obviously can lead.'

'I never said they couldn't lead,' Pansy said snootily. 'I said that they don't. I woman is meant to follow a man's lead, even if that involves painful consequences.'

'Where do you come up with these absurd ideas?' William asked, dipping her.

'My late husband,' Pansy said with a laugh.

William chuckled. 'If I married a woman who led a dance this well, I'd let her lead in every aspect of life.'

'Yes, well, you didn't know my previous husband,' Pansy said gloomily. 'He sincerely felt that the man was supposed to be the provider. A woman's place was in the kitchen...unless, of course, you had house elves. Then, a woman's place was in... the bedroom.'

'Your husband had a very medieval outlook on life,' William pointed out.

'And you don't?' Pansy asked accusingly. 'You seemed rather surprised when I asked you to dance.'

'It has been very long since I have danced with anyone, Miss Parker,' William explained.

'But why?' Pansy asked. 'If it's not too bold to say, you are a rather handsome man, and an excellent dancer. I don't believe you have stepped upon my toes once.'

'That is very bold,' he smirked. 'But, no...I have been away for a long time. It has to have been nearly thirteen years.'

Where have you been all my life? Pansy asked herself inwardly. 'You fled the war then?' she assumed.

'My life was rather complicated at that time,' William replied simply. 'It was essential that I leave before any more damage was done.'

'You have a very interesting life, William,' Pansy said interestedly.

'I have told you very much about myself, Miss Parker,' William said with a smile, 'but you have yet to tell me much about yourself, other than that you are a widowed woman who is very bold and loves to lead dances. From what I can tell, you are a beautiful woman, love to dance, and had a terrible relationship with your late husband. Would you to share more?'

'Well, what would you like to know about me then, William?' Pansy asked.

'I will not deny that I have wondered what made you so determined to get me to dance,' he said.

Pansy thought for moment. She was not quite sure why she had asked him to dance. 'There's something I just recognise about you... but I don't know where it's from,' she told him. 'I do not know any Williams.'

'Nor do I know any Pamelas,' he said regretfully. 'Though I must agree that from somewhere I do, indeed, recognise you.'

Pansy couldn't put her finger on it, but somehow she knew him.

'Begging my pardon for being nearly as bold as yourself,' he said, a slight pink rising his cheeks, 'but I have only just noticed that your hair, your beautiful hair, reminds me of the night sky. The way that the candlelight hits it with every move you make, it looks like little stars twinkling across it.'

Pansy stared at him for several moments, wrapped up in her own memories.

Back to the summer before sixth year, when she had spent the day, lolling away the hours in Draco Malfoy's arms. The night he said, 'I love you.'

She buried her face into his chest so he wouldn't see her blush. He kissed the top of her head, whispering, 'Your hair is black like the night sky, with little stars twinkling in it from the moonlight.'

'What did you say?' Pansy said, staring at him, bewildered.

'It was a compliment,' he said immediately.

Pansy could barely speak the name, but very carefully she did. 'Draco?'

He paused. 'My god...Pansy?' he said very quietly. They had long since stopped dancing but people around them were now starting to take notice.

Pansy looked down at the floor and unhooked the latch of her mask, letting it drop to the floor. He followed suit, dropping the black mask to the ground.

'Never in my widest dreams...' she whispered.

'Nor in mine,' he said, taking her hand. 'I've waited thirteen years for this moment and I plan to do it justice.'

Without warning, he bent down on one knee. 'Pansy Parkinson, I have nothing to offer you. My family name, once known to strike fear into one's eyes, is now useless in the Wizarding World. I have no family, no home, and no ring to give you. But I still carry the love for you that I have had since we were sixteen.' The band had stopped playing and many people were watching admiringly. 'And I know that your feelings very well may have changed, seeing as you have family, friends, money, and power, but I still have the same strong feelings that I had for you. And I always will, whether you say yes or no.' He kissed her hand and looked up into her eyes. 'Pansy Parkinson, will you marry me?'

Pansy's lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. She nodded as the tears slipped down her face. 'Yes,' she croaked. She flung her arms around him. 'I can't believe that after thirteen years...'

Draco pulled away and lifted her face to see her better. 'Give me a thousand years away from you, Pansy, and my love will never grow any weaker.'