Maybe

Maybe

"Why do you like me then?" Pansy looked at Draco, who grabbed a few straws just to crush them in his palm before he threw them away. "You got to tell me, you know. Or else I will leave."

"I'm no good with words," Draco replied.

"Oh really," Pansy said and raised her eyebrows. "I would say that's your only gift."

"Thanks," Draco said, giving her a not too pleased look. "So I'm no good then? I'm a lousy kisser and..."

"You idiot," Pansy said, and gave him a push. "Now, go on, why do you fancy me?"

"Because..." Draco looked away again, grinning. "I can't do this, you know. It's just too odd."

"You do know how to break a girl's heart," Pansy replied. "How hard can it be? Just tell me why you want me."

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to do a poem?"

"If you feel like it."

"I can't do poems. I can't rhyme."

"No need to rhyme." Draco grinned again, and tried to look at Pansy again while he spoke, "Your hair, like black oil, your head I'd like to boil... Seriously, Pansy, this is hardly working."

"Try again."

"You weren't even offended?" Judging by her look, yes. "Okay, but I still think it's a good start.

"Your hair, like black oil,

Your head I'd like to boil.

So I can eat you up,

Or drink you out of a cup.

Then you will be mine,

And that suits me just fine."

Draco looked at Pansy. She looked back.

"Draco, that's just plain disgusting." Draco shrugged.

"So? It's my poem! I'm not like the lame boys who need Shakespeare or something. I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy. I even do poems!"

"In that case, you're a disgrace to anyone that writes poems."

"I might be," Draco said, "but that poem was fucking original. And good, for that matter."

"You wanted to boil my head! And eat me!"

"Yes, I do admit it was slightly violent, but still..."

"And you wonder why you're still single."

"Not for long."

"If you continue talking to girls about boiling their heads, you will be." Draco nodded, drew his breath, looked into Pansy's eyes, and said, "I fancy you. Why? I don't know. But I do. Yes. I do." Then he smiled the most fake smile in history. "Happy?"

"You can speak in entire sentences if you like. And please don't make it sound like I made you say it."

"But you did!"

"Only because you wanted me to!"

"This is complicated. I never wanted you to. I simply asked you if... if you could be my test- rabbit."

"Yes, and I said that I could. Here I am. So don't behave like some sick bloke who wants to eat me for supper, and tells me how much he fancies me - only because I 'told him to'."

Draco sighed, and lay back in the grass.

"Okay, say I'm her then. Think that this is not me, this is Padma."

"Padma is gorgeous. You're not. You're..." He turned and looked at Pansy, who was sitting next to him, waiting for him to tell her how disgracefully ugly he considered her. "You're not Padma," he continued. "You're Pansy. I can't tell you how I feel about Padma, because you'll make fun of me to the end of days - or even worse - you'll tell Blaise."

"Just because I'm currently sleeping in Blaise's bed doesn't mean that I tell him anything he's not worthy to hear." Draco grinned.

"Thanks."

"Now, tell me: What's so special about Padma?"

"I don't know," Draco said, shrugging. "She's just... Different. In a good way."

"You can't say that."

"What about a poem?"

"Draco... You've got no fantasy at all."

"But she quite weird, you know. All classy and such. I can't do anything stupid and cliché, she'll laugh and leave me."

"Then tell her a poem! Just not... the one you told me." Draco shrugged.

"Maybe," he said, gazing at the lake. "Maybe."

:::

Padma stood by the lake and looked at nothing particularly. She had been standing there for quite some time now - perhaps about thirty minutes. Still there was no sign of him. She should have guessed. She shouldn't have believed him when he promised he would meet her here. She looked down at her watch for the twentieth time or so, and gave a sigh.

Then she sniffed, and tried to keep her tears back. He was not worth it. She began to walk away, but turned one last time and. If she'd looked more carefully before turning back again, she would have noticed the man standing in the shadow of the tree. She also would have noticed his behaviour.

She would have noticed the way he briskly stroked his hand under his eye. She would have recognized him, and heard his soft words to her:

"Do not hate me,

I do care,

But to meet you,

I do not dare."