If You Can

I am ashamed to admit that I miss you. If you were still here, you would have commented, with a snide laugh, that shame and pining do not suit me. But you are not here, and somehow, I think to myself, humility and lust do suit me, but you cannot see that.

    To you, I am but a whisper on the wind, a cloud in the sky, slowly drifting away. You used to whisper in my ear that I was beautiful, perfect, and that our enigma would last forever. Now I am the one to laugh cuttingly, because in hindsight you merely told jokes without laughter.

    I was nothing to you, simplistic pleasure, and you must have thought I was I toy, a broken doll, a Barbie without it’s head. I was one night times fourteen, and each night I felt your heavy, lusty voice murmur that this, us, would last forever.

    That was before the orgasm, those seconds that meant so much to me. Then you would scream once, as always, and we would laugh afterwards.

    It has been so long since those days.

~

    Pansy opened her eyes, the overbright morning rays stinging her eyes. A pool of blood lay around her left elbow. She blinked. Not blood. Hair. Beautiful, shining scarlet hair.

    She blinked once more and remembered. More than that, she hated what she remembered.

    Ginevra Molly Weasley. Asleep. In her bed.

    Holy shit.

    “Get up,” said Pansy urgently, shaking the redhead by the shoulders. “Get up!”

    Ginny opened her eyes. “What the hell?”

    Pansy stood up, wearing a huge nightshirt and pulling the bedclothes off of Ginny. Oh, what a mistake.

    Ginny’s naked form, all pale and freckled skin, seemed to glow on the dark sheet below her.

    “Hello, Pansy,” murmured Ginny, grinning sagely, and Pansy flushed.

    “I forgot.”

    “No doubt you did,” whispered the red head, her pink tongue looking so delicious between her equally wondrous crimson lips.

    Pansy took two steps forward and one back. Ginny laughed as the blonde before her looked anxiously at the other sleeping girls.

    “They know, Pans,” said Ginny softly, standing and taking a step towards her.

    “What do you mean?” asked Pansy, quiet for fear of waking them. “What do you mean?”

    Ginny took a half step forward to compensate for the one Pansy had just taken back. “They know.” She frowned at the blonde girl’s reluctance to understand, then smirked. “They saw last night.”

    It was true, wasn’t it, all horribly and really true. She remembered the way they had all stared at the couple, the girls, and then shaken their heads and gone back to sleep.

    Pansy stared, in shock, at the nude figure before her. Ginny was smirking at her, an odd grin quirking her lips, and Pansy couldn’t help the blush that rose in her cheeks.    

    She was all perfect, her skin, like ivory, with it’s coffee freckles and the little chocolate mole on her abdomen. She had developed the customary tan-lines of a Weasley; slightly darkened arms, pink-burned shoulders, and the dark freckles across her nose. The rest was white, as white as paper, especially her breasts, flawless in their pallor, and Pansy had to look away. Her eyes fell on Ginny’s feet, tiny and as white as sand, the nails painted bubble-gum pink, and traveled up her legs. Her legs were lean and long for her height, but Ginny was short for her age. For a moment, Pansy’s eyes lingered on the area between her legs, the short, curly, dark hairs that masked silken skin, before continuing up her slender body.

    Ginny’s face. She had a meticulous face, Pansy realized. It was long and thin, delicate and rather unbreakable in the same moment, and finely detailed. Her nose was straight and slim, spattered in huge freckles, and her lips were slightly pouty even now. But her eyes; the best feature on her face, Pansy was sure. She had huge eyes, round and curious and the color of coffee; long ebony lashes stood out against her pale skin. Mischievous brows, darker than her hair, were thicker than most; not bushy but magnificently arched, idiosyncratic and playful.

    And her hair. It was recently-short, cropped to chin length, and Pansy had to admit that it was beautiful. More of a copper color than her brothers’, it fell in misleadingly gentle waves around her face,

    She giggled slightly, and the sound brought Pansy back to Earth.

    “Catch me if you can,” Ginny murmured seductively, diving headfirst underneath the emerald sheets of Pansy’s bed.

~

    Pansy rolled over in her bed. The sunlight in her eyes was not particularly bright, but instinctively she turned onto her other side.

    She got out of bed, flannel pajamas on, and stretched. She studied her face in the mirror above her dresser and frowned. Frowned at the crow’s feet on either corner of her eyes, the grey hairs piercing the blonde, and the slightly sunken look forty years brought.

    “Pansy?” called a voice, smooth and cool, and she looked up as Draco Malfoy entered the room, already dressed for work.

    “Hmm?” she asked absently, facing him.

    “I’ll be home for dinner, alright?” he said. He leaned in to kiss her goodbye on the cheek. For some reason, she hesitated before returning the kiss.

    He smiled oddly, blonde locks glimmering in the morning. “’Bye, sweetheart,” he murmured. And then he Apparated away.

    Pansy turned back to the dresser and made a face in the mirror at herself. Maybe Draco was able to carry on as though the marriage was happy, focused on love, but she couldn’t. She frowned at the wedding photo of them. They looked happy then, she supposed. They were smiling, at least, kissing, without seeing the figures behind them. Lucius Malfoy and her own father, Icarus Parkinson. She grimaced as they exchanged looks of satisfaction. The Malfoy name would live on.

    She turned the frame over and pried the back off by hand, the cardboard cover unfolding like a book. She pulled another picture, smaller than the wedding one, out, and looked at it. Stared, really, at Ginny Weasley.

    Ginny was smiling, that same habitual smirk, and her eyes were wider than ever. It was before her hair had been cut; now, the long scarlet locks spilled down her shoulders in waves. Ginny had one eyebrow raised, and Pansy shook her head at the smiling redhead.

    With a sigh, she placed the picture back in the frame, face down, and closed the back up. Setting it down on the carved dresser, she took one last look at herself kissing Draco.