... time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse...

...time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse...

"When two people decide to get a divorce, it isn't a sign that they 'don't understand' one another, but a sign that they have, at last, begun to."

-- Helen Rowland.

The third glass of champagne went down easier than its predecessors.

Pansy made a face at her empty glass as she shoved it away from herself. She had never been one for champagne, but then she had never been one for weddings either.

Sir Phillip toasted her from his seat a few tables over, and Pansy dutifully retrieved her empty glass and held it up in response. She wondered if he actually remembered her name from the five or so times that they had been introduced. Probably not. She couldn't really fault the man, because if she had learned anything from the past few months, then it was that her name was particularly forgettable these days. At least, that was the impression she was getting from any and every barrister with any reputation to speak of. She supposed the problem was inherent there somehow.

Pansy waited until the man's attention had been diverted from her before she allowed her scowl to slip back into place, and she slumped in her chair. Maid of Honor or not, she would have happily skipped this blessed event if Blaise hadn't insisted on showing up. It was only her second, after all. Pansy would be more intrigued to see her fifth, if only to see the fool of a man that would actually want to be #5 in line. That would be a spectacle worth seeing.

But Blaise's stubbornness had proved tenacious, if vexing, and never let it be said that Zabini didn't have his methods of persuasion. Pansy shifted uncomfortably in her seat as a montage of particularly vivid memories played through her mind. After the red flush passed from her cheeks, a bitter smile tugged at her mouth. And never let it be said that she wasn't predictable. She was. Oh, so very much so.

Really, she had her suspicions as to why Blaise had rejected her idea of escaping to the Canary Islands until Daphne was safely on her honeymoon on the other side of the world. If she were feeling particularly unromantic, then she might have thought that Blaise's firm hand on her bare thigh and ever-present arm around her waist all day served as a pretty good indication as to why. She didn't think it was so that he could see her as a vision of taffeta during the ceremony. Just as Pansy had never been one for champagne, Daphne had never been one for taste. She just hoped that the next time Blaise wanted to send a message, he would simply give an interview to The Daily Prophet and leave her out of it.

She was just considering signaling the waiter for another glass-- desperate times called for desperate measures-- when someone abruptly slid into the seat beside her. Her eyes widened briefly at the new occupant before her gaze returned to the dance floor. This was unexpected.

"Invited, were you?" she said dully.

Draco leaned back in his chair and casually lit himself a cigarette as if he hadn't just plopped back into her life after such a long and conspicuous absence. "Yes, but I'm surprised that you were," he said. "I was under the impression that you had become a sort of social pariah."

Pansy forgot the rapid pounding of her heart in favor of rolling her eyes. "You wish. Our friends weren't going to just stop talking to me because you weren't. This isn't Hogwarts." To prove her point, she nodded towards Crabbe, who was chatting jovially with Blaise by an odd ice sculpture that bore a strange resemblance to Daphne. Besides, who else was going to put up with the bride's bipolar indecisions leading up to the big day? Twice. It had taken every ounce of will power to keep Pansy from drowning the girl in each rejected cake flavor, and she was Daphne's best friend. Really, one of the girl's numerous cousins was going to have to take her place if Daphne ever did decide to go through with this again.

Why had he come over? She had seen him at the ceremony, of course, but she had been prepared for some mutual avoidance tactics. Voluntary contact hadn't been anticipated. She frowned, wondering what she was supposed to do. Her eyes bore holes into Blaise's back, but for being so attentive all day, Blaise was being conveniently oblivious now. She would have to punish him later. Daphne, too, for being such an ungrateful traitor as to actually invite him this time around.

Draco was silent for so long that Pansy was finally forced to glance at him. Draco looked immaculate as usual, like he had just walked off the cover of a magazine. She wouldn't be surprised if he were purposely attempting to upstage the groom. He was staring at something beyond the dance floor like she wasn't even there. She felt justifiably annoyed, seeing as how he had sat down beside her. He couldn't just upset her equilibrium, and then promptly set about ignoring her. Or maybe that was just their status quo.

"What, are there photographers here?" she said, sneering at his ensemble. "Planning a new press release, are we? Or are you just planning on pushing the now-and-future Mr. Daphne Greengrass out of the photos for their marriage announcements in the papers in the spirit of a little free face-time?"

He sneered back at her. "If there were photographers here, then I wouldn't be seen within twenty meters of you."

Pansy smiled bitterly. She didn't doubt the sincerity of that statement. "Is there some reason that you're finally gracing me with your presence? I only ask because your barrister made it sound as if you were hidden away in some foreign country for all your accessibility."

"Some people actually work for a living, Pansy, but how nice to have such unlimited free time."

She wasn't going to bristle at that. "You don't have time to talk to your barrister?" she said, feeling that familiar friend called frustration making a comeback.

She couldn't even pretend to be surprised when he didn't deign to answer her. As if summoned, an ashtray suddenly appeared on the table, and Draco's spare ashes were disposed of much in the same manner as Pansy's previously tolerable mood. He smiled, but his gaze cut across the room like a sliver of glass. "Zabini's a brave man to leave you to your own devices," he murmured.

Like the sudden location of a long-sought and painful splinter-- Ah, there it was.

Pansy inwardly sighed, but she said nothing.

"Or is he just stupid?"

"Well, he was your best friend for nigh on a decade. Birds of a feather," she said sweetly. Blaise had nothing to worry about from her. Absolutely nothing at all. She tried not to feel resentful about that.

His eyes narrowed. "Since we're using animal metaphors, I could cite the classic 'snake in the grass,'" he said, "but that's a little too obvious in this instance for my taste."

"Careful, Draco," she said dully. "You're in real danger of sounding bitter."

His eyes flashed at her with an intensity previously unachieved. "Now, what," he said slowly, "would I have to feel bitter about, Pansy?"

She dropped her eyes to the tablecloth as she traced her finger around the rim of her glass. "Speaking of stupid, where's Bunny?"

"Now, Pansy," he said, looking amused again. "You know that's not her name."

"It should be with those teeth. Plus, those horrible chattering noises she makes when she's attempting to speak--"

"She's French."

"Lapin, then."

"You shouldn't speak so ill of her," he said slyly. "She's a great fan of yours. She was just saying how brave it was of you to wear something so revealing at your age."

"I'm 25," she said through grit teeth.

He laughed. "Yeah, I know, but she didn't believe me when I told her."

Pansy had never looked better, and she knew it. "Well, I hear it's normal for children her age to have limited mathematical comprehension. She's what, five?"

"No, but your maturity level clearly is."

"Okay, you know what?" she said, standing up. "We're not married anymore, so I'm no longer obligated to sit next to you at weddings. Now, if you'll excuse me and kindly shove off."

"Actually, we are still married," he said, making a face, "and I thank you for reminding me."

Pansy paused and stared at him. When she spoke, her tone was brittle. "That's a damn right hilarious attitude for someone who avoids any and all discussion of divorce." She wasn't feeling very amused, though.

"Who's avoiding?" he said loftily.

It took a magnificent effort not to scream. "Goodbye," she said.

Draco let her go. He even managed to avoid directly engaging with Blaise for the rest of the evening, but she felt his stare on them several times before the night was through. Pansy told herself that the only reason she noticed was because of the way that Blaise would tense and glare back at him. She wouldn't admit that she ever noticed before he did.

* * *

The owl came two weeks later.

Pansy was in the middle of practicing a cleaning spell that had been passed along from Daphne's Head of Staff-- her new husband was too progressive for house elves. It went against everything she was or had ever claimed to be, but she was tired of being a freeloading deadweight on Blaise. Her mother would be horrified at what she was attempting, but Pansy didn't care to be concerned with the opinion of the woman who had more or less said that her daughter's latest "life choices" were too gauche to be seen with her in public. Pansy had to find her attitude amusing, since the last time that Violet Parkinson had been in a newspaper had probably been for her wedding announcement over two decades ago. Her opinion was irrelevant anyway, because ever since Blaise's mother's recent "legal troubles" after her latest husband's "accident," money had been too tight for paid help for their shared flat. So, that was that.

The letter was really more of a throwaway note scratched onto ostentatious parchment, complete with the ugly and very official Malfoy seal with which she was intimately familiar. She was filled with so much distaste at the sight of it that she was actually tempted to just dispose of the letter without ever reading it. However, curiosity and common sense had intervened on the letter's behalf.

She showed it to Blaise as soon as he walked through the door. She didn't know what to make of it, and it had just become too easy these days to look to Blaise for guidance.

He read it over twice with a stoic expression before finally suggesting, "Progress?" He looked so hopeful that she didn't have the heart to say any different.

But, somehow, she doubted it.

* * *

The teahouse had been a terrible choice for their meeting.

There were several reasons as to why. It hadn't been her choice, for one. It was too public, for another. Anyone could be listening in. Though, maybe it was arrogant to assume that anyone still cared about their dirty laundry. She hadn't been aware of any media attention in months. Of course, she had stopped reading the society section after one too many pictures of Draco and "Bunny" at various locations had been splashed across the pages like a tacky scrapbook. And being called disappointingly uncreative variations of "whore" got old after awhile.

However, Pansy's paranoia soon proved to be well founded for a different reason when she was but two steps away from the door when she froze, her face paling to a sickly gray color. She barely managed to avoid throwing up on some horrified-looking matron before she hurled herself sideways into an alley.

It was the second time since leaving Blaise in bed that morning that Pansy had experienced what she was going to start referring to as an assault. It had first come on in the bathroom as she had been brushing her teeth. Her heart had suddenly sped up, and her vision clouded. A constricting throat had forced up spit and toothpaste as she gagged into the sink. Luckily, Blaise had been too busy snoring to hear her. She didn't think that she could have explained it if he'd been awake to ask, because the spell had passed just as abruptly as it had come on. After a few terrifying seconds of staring into her own confused eyes in the mirror, she had calmly wiped off her mouth and finished brushing her teeth.

She straightened up now, pressing a hand to her suddenly clammy forehead as she did so. There were two possible reasons for these episodes that she was aware of. She had been thinking about her impending divorce before each, and it was possible that she was experiencing a rush of nerves. However, that would imply that she wasn't ready for this, and she most definitely was. There was nothing she wanted more than to be severed from the past five years.

The other possibility... She didn't even want to consider it. There were enough chains to deal with as it was.

She wondered if Blaise would have asked about it if he'd been awake to hear her. He had been almost overbearingly vocal about Draco in the beginning, but they hadn't discussed him since that owl had arrived three weeks prior, not since Draco had finally agreed to this meeting ("On my terms, Pansy. Not everyone has the benefit of such a free schedule."). She would understand if Blaise's sudden silence on the matter were an indication of his relief that this was finally being resolved. Draco's bloody schedule had ended up putting this off for three weeks in addition to the four months when he wouldn't even respond to her letters. Nigh on nine months (plus the three months that Draco didn't even know about) was long enough.

The spell quickly passed, and Pansy left the alley and avoided the stare of the matron, who still looked so scandalized at the possibility of being vomited upon by a stranger that she was still rooted to the spot. Never mind that there hadn't actually been any vomiting.

Pansy pushed open the door to the teahouse, and the bell twinkled annoyingly. A few patrons glanced over briefly before going back to their conversations and newspapers. Her eyes skimmed the room before they settled on a familiar blonde head. Her stomach suddenly felt queasy again, but she kept her face schooled as she crossed the room to join him.

Draco's nose was buried in a clutter of parchment spread out over the small table. He didn't notice her at first, so she stood awkwardly until she finally gave up and slid into the seat across from him.

"You're late," he said shortly.

"Sorry," she said in a tone that suggested otherwise. She hadn't wanted to be the first to arrive. "I got stopped by street solicitors. You know how it is."

His nose wrinkled. "There needs to be a law against that."

"Against being bothered?" she said, settling herself in and tucking her bag beneath her chair.

Draco shrugged uninterestedly. He looked so much like Lucius Malfoy that it hurt her eyes to see it. For a moment-- the briefest of seconds-- she felt herself soften.

"That's a lot of paperwork for a single signature," she said quietly.

He gave her a disdainful look. "There's a lot of property between us, Pansy. If you weren't up to it, then you should have sent a barrister to handle this."

Whatever was previously soft immediately hardened again. Pansy glared at him. "I don't want any of the Malfoy property, and I agreed to meet you here without my barrister--"

"I am your barrister."

"Were. And even more reason why I shouldn't be doing this." She was pretty sure that Draco must be breaking certain rules of the bar with this meeting, but she had never paid enough attention when he was spouting off legal jargon to really know for sure.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Um, because you threatened to drag this out for months in court if I didn't? Anyway, I just want this to be over with."

"I'm not going to take advantage of you," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Mmn-hmn. I believe that like I believe these biscotti sticks actually came from Italy. Lucky for me that I don't want much from you."

A waitress chose that moment to edge up and ask for her order. "Just water," she said shortly.

After the waitress was gone, Draco continued, "You don't want the house in Glencoe? Or the business properties in London?"

"No," she said sullenly.

He leaned back in his chair and smirked at her. "You seemed to have wanted the villa in Paris."

Bugger. He would. She experienced a twinge of deep resentment at those particular memories. "Well, that was supposedly a gift, but I guess I should have anticipated your fickle sense of self-entitlement."

"You should have anticipated that I would rather swallow acid than allow you and Zabini to live it up on my property."

Pansy dug her fingernails into her palms in an effort to keep her patience. "He wasn't living there with me, and the thing about gifts is that once you've given them away, they're not supposed to still be considered yours."

He leaned forward again and began shuffling through the parchment. "The villa was supposed to be for both of us when we were on the Continent."

"Funny that I didn't get that from, 'Happy Birthday, Pansy. Enjoy your villa.' Was there a postscript on the back?"

He held up a parchment that she assumed to be the deed or some equivalent to the villa. "So, you aren't interested in the property anymore?"

"No," she spat.

Draco looked extremely pleased with himself as he tucked the deed into a different pile. "Well, that was easier than I had anticipated. I was sure that you were going to fight me on that one. Monique will be relieved."

Oh, Bunny would be relieved, would she? Pansy would not rise to that one... She wouldn't... Oh, whom was she kidding? "Be sure to give her a good pat on the head when you tell her before she wets herself with excitement. Those carpets were expensive."

"That won't be a problem," he said. "She wants to change the carpets in for something... What was the word she used? Classy, I believe."

The venom came too easily. "That whore wouldn't recognize classy from whatever was being sold on a leopard-skin rug," she said heatedly. She had picked those rugs up personally from Greece, where they had been specially made for her. The very idea of that stupid bint even touching them...

Draco seemed to read her mind, and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Changing your mind?"

"I don't want the villa," she said with some difficulty. "I just want my divorce. And everything that I came in with," she added.

More parchments were moved around. "You're referring to what exactly?"

The waitress returned and set a glass of water before her. Pansy waited until she was gone before she said, "My inheritance, those tapestries from Spain, the lake property--"

"The lake property?" he interrupted. He rubbed the skin between his eyes as if fighting for patience. "Pansy, we sold that years ago. You were allergic to some plant up there, remember?"

She frowned, remembering. "Oh. Right." Well, that explained why they had never built on it.

"And those tapestries are in the Parisian villa."

Along with her grandmother's antique chairs, those Egyptian sheets she loved, and all of her favorite wedding presents-- "Okay, fuck it," she said, straightening. "I want the villa."

Draco blinked at her in astonishment. "Are you kidding me?"

"Am I laughing? That place was my baby. Everything in it was hand-chosen by me. It was a gift. Besides, I'm the only one who's spent any time in it."

"Right, and that explains why you gave it up so easily the first time around," he said snidely.

"As much as it would explain why you sent your whore to run me out," she said flatly.

"What can I say?" he said, grinning. "Monique took a shine to the place."

How had she even seen it to begin with? Pansy had to grit her teeth against the bilious rage that boiled up. "And she just happened to find an eviction notice laying on the ground?"

"Come now, darling," he said. The endearment sounded like a curse coming from him. "It really wasn't appropriate for you to be staying there with our situation being what it was."

"And your connections in the Ministry had absolutely no influence in that, did they? Eviction notices are just that easy to come by?" Who knew bitterness ran so deep?

He grinned smugly, not even bothering to deny it.

Pansy downed all her water in one gulp, needing the cool liquid to combat the burning of her entire body. "Well? Are you going to fight me on the villa?"

Draco stared at her for a long moment before he said, "I have things in that place, too. Valuables that need to stay in the family."

"Like what?" she said suspiciously. Which little heirlooms needed to go to his and Bunny's bastardized, future offspring?

He shrugged. "I'll have to look into it."

"How long is that going to take?" she said, fearing that Draco had just found yet another way of postponing the inevitable.

"Relax," he sneered. "You and I can schedule a walk-through. I can probably fit it in next week."

"After you get all of your things, it will be mine?"

He made an affirmative noise.

Pansy felt a surge of relief. She hadn't wanted to be so dependent on Blaise, but Draco had forced her hand. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and her eyes narrowed. "Funny how your schedule seems to finally be opening up all of a sudden."

"Will you shut it already?" he snapped, no longer seeming amused. "I don't intend to be here listening to your prattle all day."

Pansy shared the sentiment. "What else is there?"

"To be certain, you definitely don't want any of the other properties, do you? What about the stables that your father left you?"

She had always hated horses. "I don't want any of it."

"We'll liquidate the stables," he said absently, making a note of it. "Joint stocks?"

"Liquidate away," she said. "Or else keep them."

"Fine," he muttered. Draco shoved several sheets of parchment at her. "I'm going to need your signatures on each of these. Here, here, and there," he said, indicating. "By signing, you'll be relinquishing your claims on each of these assets. I'll reimburse you for your share of the liquidated assets. Of course, if you don't trust that I will--"

"Let's just finish this thing," she interrupted wearily. "The sooner these papers are signed means that we're just that much closer to never having to lay eyes on each other again."

Draco's expression darkened. "Would that finally make you happy, Miss Parkinson?" he said softly.

"You've never given a damn about what makes me happy," she said. "Now, give me a quill."

Draco obliged.

* * *

There were times that Pansy really didn't understand how she had gotten to this point in her life.

One moment, she could blink, and then she would once again be that fresh-faced, barely-graduated ingénue who was desperately in love with her fiancé and merely friendly acquaintances with Blaise Zabini. It would only be two steps-- years-- from there that would find her a wife. Hot kisses that hadn't yet lost their heat, gazes that actually met each other, and smiles that never felt forced... Blaise was still only a friend, if an ever-present one.

Then, another blink, and she was five years forward and wandering aimlessly through the lonely halls of Malfoy Manor, running her fingers over ancient creases and fabrics, while Draco worked those long hours elsewhere. The eager jerks of her legs to the door whenever Blaise was announced were attributed to the anxious need for a sympathetic ear.

It only took so many averted stares, aborted sentences, and obvious lies and absences to make the castle crumble, and it wouldn't be a far jump from there to the point where she was disappearing at random hours for desperate reminders of what it felt like to be beneath Blaise. Bite marks, sharp jibes, and unasked questions... Not to forget a certain set of revelatory photos and--

Cut to finish, and she was living with Blaise, and the new title of Divorcée was waiting for her like it was her turn to wear the rented tiara.

It was really just a blink between then and now. Pansy's only reasoning for the shift was that nothing ever seemed to turn out the way that you planned.

Or maybe it was just her.

* * *

The walk-through was as predictably frustrating as she had anticipated.

"Draco, you've never even laid eyes on those crystals. You wouldn't know them if I served you arrogance with a side of undeserved self-satisfaction on them."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Pansy, but my mother would rather see Muggles modeling those furs over you."

"Well, that's good to know, because I was planning on donating them to the Muggles I saw digging around in the garbage last night."

"What are you planning to do with twenty suits of arms?"

"Charming them to attack stupid bints."

"I'm not paying to have those doxies removed. You can have Zabini deal with it."

"If you weren't such a lazy bugger, then you would remove them yourself right now."

"What do you mean you didn't bring the divorce papers?"

Draco held up his empty hands. "Forgot. Sorry."

Pansy had to mentally count to ten. "Draco, those were the most important part. What are we even doing here if you didn't bring them?"

He didn't seem particularly concerned. "Come again tomorrow. I'll have them, and we can put the final signatures to things."

She looked at him, suddenly feeling skeptical. "Tomorrow? And you'll bring the right ones?"

"Of course."

What choice did she have?

* * *

Pansy should have known better.

He had her up against the wall, and his hands pinned her arms against the wall. She was like a butterfly pinned beneath a slab of glass. His body was pressed so tightly against hers that she felt melded with him into one burning, pulsing hybrid. His expensive belt buckle was digging into her abdomen, and she was forced to wrap a bare leg around his slack-covered one or else Draco would be standing on her toes.

God, he was such a liar. He had never intended to let go, had he? This was just another way of stringing her along. She never should have let him lure her back. She should have demanded that he take her to his offices yesterday after he revealed that he had forgotten the paperwork.

Pansy gasped as Draco kissed her hard enough to bruise, stretching her lips back from her teeth. Her mouth was forced open by his searing tongue with so much force that her head smacked back against the wall. Pansy saw stars behind her eyelids. His tongue in her mouth felt like a branding iron as it rubbed hers raw. She choked on her moan. Oh, this was so wrong. She was never supposed to be in this position again. What was she doing to Blaise? Exactly what she'd done to her soon-to-be ex-husband?

However, all thoughts of Blaise went flying out of her head when Draco abruptly jerked his body back from the wall, bringing an entangled Pansy with him. Just as quickly, he shoved her back against the wall so that his pelvis was digging painfully into her abdomen. Her entrapped wrists slammed back against the wall. She withered helplessly against the evidence of his arousal, unable to find a comfortable position within his stranglehold.

Annoyed, she brought her foot down on Draco's shin-- hard. He made a yelping noise into her mouth, and his hold loosened enough so that she was able to get her wrists free. She reached up to grab a punishing handful of blonde hair. Her fingers tugged and pulled on the strands, and Draco made an aroused noise that caused her to abandon the undertaking in favor of ripping at the buttons of his shirt. He shoved her hands away and rid himself of the shirt before giving an unforgiving tug on her blouse that sent buttons sailing to the floor. Pansy could only cling to his shoulders as a mouth and pair of hands simultaneously assaulted her neck and breasts. In weak retaliation, she shifted her leg so that it was between his legs. She rubbed upward and felt Draco stir against her leg.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone as Draco drew back from her with a hiss. She blinked hazy eyes at him as he brought his hand back up to her neck, where he fingered the necklace circling her throat. His gaze was sharp and accusing when it met hers. Pansy lifted her chin defiantly. Yes, it's from Blaise, she channeled silently.

Does it hurt? She wanted to ask. Was that why he was looking at her like that? She hoped so. She hoped that he was hurting as much as she was when she first saw a familiar bracelet on Bunny's wrist in one of those pictures from the society rag.

Draco's fingers curled around the necklace, and then there was a sting at the back of her neck as he abruptly ripped it from her throat. She gasped in surprise and brought her hand up to where the necklace no longer was. Draco immediately jerked her hand out of the way and lowered his head so that he could run his tongue along the reddening skin.

Pansy shuddered and drew his mouth back up to hers. His tongue circled her mouth once before he pulled away again. She found herself being dragged to the bed, and there was only a momentary thought about the immaculate bedspread before she was being tossed onto it.

She glared at him as he came up beside her, but Draco ignored her as he set about shoving her skirt up over her thighs. His palms slid over the skin, and Pansy had the sudden impulse to kick out at him. She could probably get him in the nose from her current position...

Draco let out a breathy laugh when he saw the lacy underwear beneath her skirt. The look he gave her said, "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?"

No, she wanted to shout. She hadn't known that he was going to accost her the second she entered the bedroom. She thought that he was going to show her a mirror that was supposedly the property of some great aunt. Really. She had...

His fingers ran along the edge of her underwear, but Pansy was shivering more at the hungry look on his face. He finally tugged the underwear down over her legs, and Pansy suddenly realized how ridiculous she must look in only her bra and with her skirt bunched up around her waist. With this thought in mind, she finally did kick out at him. He dodged her easily and laughed.

Pansy couldn't help but remember the first time that they had ever done this. That time had been so different. Draco had been so gentle and tentative, and he hadn't been grinning like he was conquering something. She felt a renewed resistance to what was occurring, but her limbs were suddenly slow and heavy. She couldn't move.

Draco's stare was challenging as he pushed her legs apart. He lowered his head, and Pansy squeezed her eyes shut as his hair brushed against the skin of her thighs. There was a sharp bite to the inside of her thigh, and Pansy gulped down a rush of air. This wasn't happening. Except that it clearly was, because there was suddenly a warm tongue slipping between her legs. A jolt went up her back, and her body arched in shock at the sensation. She hated herself for this. This shouldn't be happening. The rush of self-loathing was only moderately combated by the warm waves of pressure building as his tongue worked her. Oh, please stop... She was better than this. She was... Please...

Blaise was going to know. He would sense it, and then she would be left with nothing...

She made a broken noise when he abruptly withdrew. She was going to die, and she didn't even know what it was that she really wanted him to do. Draco gave a sharp bite to her inner thigh, and her fingers compulsively scratched at the bedspread. She barely had time to take a breath before he plunged in again with increased vigor, and Pansy was writhing against the fabric. One of Draco's hands had a hold on her hip, but the other one came up to cup her breast. Her fingers mapped familiar patterns, and then they twisted-- Ahh... Scowling even through the haze of sensation, she brought her hands up and gripped his arm, effectively halting his actions. He could do these things to her, and she may not be strong enough to stop him, but it would never make up for what came before. Never.

Pansy's back gave another reflexive arch. The pleasure was almost too much now. She abruptly dug her nails into the flesh and tugged, scratching over skin that immediately blossomed red in her wake. If she could hurt him just a fraction of what he'd done to her-- what he was doing to her... Draco gave an involuntary hiss that sent a rush of breath over her and--

Her orgasm came in a burst of light and color, and there was only one coherent thought: she hoped it would kill her.

She was still blinking stars out of her vision when Draco was suddenly crawling over her. Pansy groaned, wanting to push him away. She didn't want anymore. She didn't think she could handle it. She brought up her hands, but they just seemed to rest on his chest as he angled her body up into a more accommodating position. He must have removed his pants while her brain was still sailing the cosmos.

It's not fair, she thought as he pushed roughly inside her. Life never should have led her to this point. Pansy moaned as Draco's movements lifted up the vestiges of her last orgasm and provided the friction to build her up towards her second. So unfair...

Draco moved over and inside her like he had something to prove. Maybe he did. He was so rough that she made little squeaks of pain that he ignored. Their mutual panting joined together in the space between them, creating a moist layer that Draco speared through to kiss her long and hot in between thrusts. She kissed him back, because passive allowance could never be enough to satisfy even a martyr like Pansy. She had to participate in her own destruction. Part of her missed him. Missed this. It was a part that she couldn't tear out. So, she helped to angle herself better, and she ran sharp nails down his back in a way that she knew would only make him thrust harder. It did. She was splitting apart at the seams, and she threw her head back and cried out, but not in defiance.

Draco came before she did, and he made a desperate, gasping noise against her neck as he did so. When his fingers reached down to help her achieve her own, Pansy decided that she had been wrong to assume that she hated herself. She hated him. Only him.

* * *

She felt sick. And sticky.

That was as far as she allowed her brain to go as they lay there in their own squalor. She didn't want to process anything else beyond the fact that everything felt too heavy to move. If she could just keep her mind shut off long enough to recover from... from... She just needed a moment.

Of course, Draco had to ruin it. "Well, my father did say that the sex is supposed to get better after the marriage ends."

Pansy felt ill. She sighed and wearily pinched the skin between her eyes. "I am so sick of your father."

Draco had no response for that, so they stayed as they were, staring at the ceiling. Pansy felt the sharp edge of despair creeping up on her. She squeezed her eyes shut and struggled to find a rational explanation for what had just happened.

"How long were you sleeping with Zabini?"

The question was so unexpected that it took Pansy a moment to process what was being asked of her. She finally turned her head so that she could look at him. Draco followed her movement, and their eyes met across the short distance between their faces. She searched him for signs of animosity, but he only looked curious. A sizeable lump formed in her throat.

"Since that tabloid picture hit the shelves," she said honestly. They were at their end, so there really didn't need to be any more lies, did there? The captured moment had been of Draco and Monique at some event or another. The picture had left little to the imagination, and Pansy had recognized the visible cufflinks for being new. She had Blaise over within the hour. There hadn't seemed to be any more point to the "I can't. I'm married," spiel. She was tired of being strong, of being hopeful. There wasn't a reason anymore.

His expression froze just enough for her to notice before he averted his face from her. "I thought that it was longer," he said absently.

Did he? Pansy's mind threatened to buzz at the implications of that, but she quickly shut it off. None of it mattered anymore. She could drive herself insane with thinking about... things like that.

"The final divorce papers are on the table over there."

Surprised, Pansy craned her neck to see. Indeed, there did seem to be a stack of parchments waiting for her on the table.

"The final papers?" As in...?

"Yes. All it needs is your signature. I included the villa. All you have to do is send them to the address I wrote for you."

So, Draco had already signed them. He had signed them and then deposited them in the bedroom because...? Oh.

One would have assumed that she would be immune to this feeling of betrayal by now, but it stings hot and fresh nonetheless. He knew. Draco knew that he was going to spring this on her once she entered the bedroom. However, that wasn't the part that stung. No, it was the fact that she had known it, too.

So very predictable.

Pansy blinked in surprise when she felt Draco's hand brush down her cheek. She held her breath. "In two weeks, I'm going to be in London for work-related purposes," he said.

She didn't say anything.

"I'll be there for three days," he continued.

Draco turned his head back to her and caught her gaze. Her throat suddenly became dry as something that was thick and heavy, but without words, transferred between them. Pansy had the sudden sensation that she was sinking into something-- something deep, and suffocating, and completely abhorrent. She ripped her gaze away and tried to squelch the crazed pounding of her heart.

"You can tell Zabini that you're visiting your mother."

Christ. Not again. She couldn't-- wouldn't-- repeat all of that. Not for Draco.

"She could come up with a sudden recurring illness. I recall you using that one in the past..."

Pansy sat up abruptly and tugged down he skirt. "No."

"Why not?"

"You know why. I mean..." Her head was spinning, and she stumbled while pulling her underwear back on. "Fuck, Draco. Why on earth would you even want to go there? Why would you want to keep doing this to yourself?"

Why can't we just be happy? They had each other, and they weren't happy. They didn't have each other, and they weren't happy. When did it just end?

Draco said nothing. He only stared at her.

Pansy groaned as she realized the futility of putting her blouse back on without the benefit of buttons. She had to abandon the fabric as a lost cause. It would have to due until she got home. Blaise wasn't supposed to be back until late. It was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

"I have to go," she said. She grabbed up the papers from the table and rushed from the room. Her cloak was waiting for her on one of her grandmother's antique chairs. She slipped it on hurriedly, anxious to be out of there.

She didn't realize that Draco had followed her until he spoke directly behind her, "You'll be needing this," he breathed into her ear.

Pansy jumped in alarm at his proximity, but she didn't move away before he had slipped something inside her cloak pocket. She reached in and pulled out what appeared to be an address.

"What is this?" she demanded.

Draco had an unreadable expression on his face. "That's where I'll be staying. I'll put you on security clearance."

Pansy growled in frustration. "Draco, you signed the papers!" She held them up as proof. "That means that this is over. I'm not going to meet you anywhere. I'm out of here."

He stared at her for so long without speaking that Pansy was starting to think that he wasn't going to respond. She had her hand on the doorknob when he finally said, "Do you really think a piece of paper will make all of this go away?"

Pansy froze. She slowly glanced back at him over her shoulder without letting go of the doorknob. He merely regarded her with an admirable level of calm considering what he had just said to her. "According to the law, it does."

He gave her a wry grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't make me quote some tripe about laws of the heart and all that."

She made a face. "If you did, then I'd have to postpone filing these papers long enough to have you committed. So, please don't."

"Pansy--"

"Don't."

The silence stretched out long enough for their words and intents to hang between them, suspended in time. Pansy dropped her eyes down to her shoes. After a moment, she said, "What about your girlfriend?"

"What about her?" he said, face blank.

Pansy took a careful breath. "I'm not coming back."

"If you say so."

"Don't patronize me," she snapped. "I'm not coming back, because I'm finally free of you. 'Free' as in 'no more.' This has been dragged out to the point where I don't even remember what it was that I ever even liked about you." She didn't need to mention Blaise or Monique as reasons, because they weren't the point. They never really had been.

Draco's gaze hardened, and he dropped it from hers. He leaned against one of the chairs and stared down at his hand as it moved over the fabric. "I liked the way the bedroom looked after you had cleared out all of your stuff," he said vaguely, as if commenting on the weather.

Pansy squeezed her eyes shut and choked down the hurt-blame-rage that rose in her throat. "Yeah, well, I liked the sound of your mother's ugly old engagement ring when I dropped it down the sink and turned on the garbage disposal."

An emotion (anger) finally visualized itself on Draco's face, and she felt a surge of triumph. "That ring--"

"--was garbage. Just like our marriage."

Draco scowled at her. "Whose fault was that?"

It wasn't funny, but she laughed anyway. It was a broken sound. "Oh, I'd say just about everyone's."

Draco's anger proved to be ephemeral and evaporated. The expression left in its wake could only be called sad. Pansy decided then that it really was time for her to leave. She had an appointment to make, and possibly a celebratory dinner to plan for herself and Blaise if her fears proved true regarding her recent health. She needed at least an hour to herself to practice a smile appropriate for the new shackle to follow the loss of the old one.

It was a lot easier to step over the threshold than she'd anticipated it being. The knob didn't even feel heavy in her hand.

"Pansy."

She paused and waited.

"Don't lose the address."

She swallowed with some difficulty. "I already told you--"

"Pansy."

Silence.

"The fifteenth of June."

"No--"

"I'll be waiting."

The door clicked quietly shut behind her.

Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

"Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep... tired... or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?"

Finis.

* * *