Happiness

Happiness, Pansy mused. The word had slowly, like water slipping between your fingers, dissolved from her vocabulary. It meant barely anything - if not nothing - to her.

    Oh, of course she knew what happiness was, and what it was to be happy. But somehow, over the years and past four days, this knowledge had morphed into simply words in a book, meaningless in life, left inexperienced.

    It had been four days, four long, painful days, since she had last carefully brushed her hair and tied the long flaxen waves into a ponytail. Four days since she had felt his touch, four days since she had smiled, however distantly it might have been. It had been four days since she had wanted to, despite herself, experience this ‘happiness’ they spoke of.

    Four days, and what felt like an eternity.

~

She’s not a girl that misses much,

She’s well-accustomed to

The touch of a velvet hand

Like a lizard on a window pane

~

    Whispers followed her, and for once in her life, she had to force herself not to care. Most of Hogwarts had cornered her at some point or other over the past days and apologized, and sympathized, and begged forgiveness for crimes they did not commit.

    Twice, she almost cried.

    Slytherins never cry, she had reminded herself. Never. It did not matter how much you had lost. A week before his death - no, his passing, Pansy reminded herself - Draco had shed no tears when his father had died. There had been no passing comments of regret and sympathy for him, she remembered. He insisted on smiling and laughing, when inside, he must have been dying, she realized.

    No one in this school, this crazed hellhole that they insisted on calling a ‘school’, understood. They either thought that she was insane herself, to ever have loved him, or cold, unfeeling, pushing aside the world.

    She was neither, it occurred to her, as she stared out of the dormitory window. It was the new moon, and all she could make out was a faded grayish circle in the sky, surrounded by pin-prick stars of hope.

    She had loved him, she knew, though how it had ever happened she did not know. She could not remember ever falling in love with him, or even the day they became friends. No, Pansy’s memory was not inclined to remember ‘happiness’ - for it was, indeed, happiness, wasn’t it? In her heart, however - something she hardly dared admit she owned - she knew.

    Slytherins do not love, she recalled. Their parents, perhaps, held a lasting place in their heart - no, their mind - but beyond that there was no sense of affection. For anyone.

    Not until she had met Draco, anyway. He had hated her, she knew, as any bona fide Slytherin would. There would be no going back if he had tripped and fallen for her. But she had loved him, somewhere deep down, and way below all his layers of hatred and evil unfeeling, he had loved her back.

    How did she know? There had been nothing to indicate, in the slightest, that any sense of warmth existed between them. There had never been heartfelt kisses, or romancing, or even flowers. There had been nothing but sharp jabs and painful jokes. But wasn’t that, after all, the Malfoys’ brand of love?

    He had loved her, hadn’t he?

~

I need a fix ‘cause I’m going down

Down to the bits that I left uptown.

I need a fix ‘cause I’m going down…

~

    Her wand was on the bedside table, she recognized. In two - maybe four - steps, she could be at the table. In two words she could see him again.

    Would it be worth it? Leave behind all she had, for one person who hated her?

    He would no longer hate her, she realized. There would be no reason not to, in fact. No jeering ‘Slytherins don’t cry, love, feel’ remarks. There would be nothing, nothing but Pansy and Draco.

    In four steps she was at the table. In three seconds she had drawn the wand. In two words she had achieved happiness.

    Happiness with one person.

~

Happiness is a warm gun,

Happiness is a warm gun, mama.

When I hold you in my arms,

And I feel my finger on your trigger,

I know no one can do me no harm,

‘cause baby,

Happiness is a warm - yes it is - gun…

~

    Pureblood beliefs and Slytherin values aside, they were happy. For the first time in so many years of knowing one another, they embraced. There were sincere kisses and pale pink and white roses, and later there was romance.

    Happiness, Pansy mused, nose buried in layers of flowers. Happiness could exist between people with, alive, no chance on joy. Happiness could exist between two people in love.