Pansy's Revenge

Morning. Breakfast time. Great Hall.

Pany and Draco sit side by side at the table. Draco is staring across the Hall at the Gryffindor table, staring right at a certain boy with unruly black hair, staring very intently at him. It's something about the way he casually talks to his friends, as if he hasn't planned his next words. Everything Draco says has already been planned, rehearsed, and perfected.

He best get it over with. "Pansy, I think we need to talk about our relationship," Draco mumbles through half-closed lips, still glancing now and then at the object of his affection. His words are a cliché, and yes, he knows. Pansy reads those cheap Muggle romances, so he thinks she'll know what he's trying to say. One more day with that girl (although Draco calls her a with with a capital B) and he's sure he'll go crazy.

Nonplussed, Pansy says, "Whatever you say, darling. You know I love you, Muffin."

Muffin?! Oh, she knows Draco hates that name. Who would like it? Hi, my name is Muffin. I'm a pastry. Yes, people will tremble with fear at the sound of that. Draco swears he'll have to do a hundred pushups to regain his masculinity. He's supposed to be tough, strong, and definitely not checking Potter out.

"Bye, sweetie-pie," she cooes, batting her false lashes at him with the speed of a hummingbird's wings. She gets up from her seat and pauses for a second.

Draco's only thoughts are that if she calls him another desert name, he will - "

"You are so good to me, my little Draco pumpkin pie."

"Bloody Pansy," Draco mutters once she leaves. Make that two hundred pushups and a long glance at some of the pull-out sections of PlayWizard magazine. Yes, pictures of nude women are the answer to every boy's problem. And Draco has plenty of them.

--

"I think he's finally going to say that he loves me, Milly. I heard a rumor that he ordered two dozen long-stemmed roses and a box of Honeyduke's chocolate-covered zingberries. My Draco is so romantic..." Pansy trails off, gazing out of the window. A dark, cloudy sky boldly meets her eyes. But, being a complete ditz in Divination, she does not realize that her downfall is written right there in the sky. Poor Pansy.

"Pansy, you sure are one lucky, lucky gal." Millicent nearly chokes on those words. She is jealous - very jealous. But you have to excuse our dear friend. After all, who wouldn't be jealous of the girl dating the sexiest student at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy?

"It's time for me to go meet Draco. Are you excited for me, Milly? Are you, are you, are you?" asks Pansy in the shrillest of her shrill voices.

"Thrilled," is the deadpanned reply.

Pansy hurries to the meeting place, an abandoned classroom in the dungeons. She admits that it isn't the most romantic place on the grounds. The gardens, undeniably, would have been more appropriate. But never mind that. Just as long as there is some flowery scent floating in air and a few candles and so on, the mood won't be completely ruined.

It is cold in the room- freezing cold - but Draco looks as well put together as always: hair slightly slicked back, black trousers and a light gray shirt with two buttons left unbuttoned. Everything is clean and crisp about him. And let's not forget his slim figure, long, slender fingers, and his crystalline gray eyes. Simply looking at him takes Pansy's breath away.

Bored, Draco is examining his reflection in the mirror. He brushes a few stray strands of hair away from his face and whips his head to find Pansy gaping at him from a few feet away.

She shuts her mouth after another minute of ogling his physique, and in a sing-song voice asks, "Draco, whatever did you want to talk to me about?"

"Don't look so stupid," he intones. "You know."

A confused expression pastes itself onto Pansy's face. This isn't going as planned. Where are the roses? The candles? The plush plum pillows? Something is wrong.

"We're through." Draco's voice has an edge of roughness that she has never heard before. To tell the truth, it is quite a turn-on for Pansy. Lost in a fantasy involving a hardened Draco kissing her passionately by the lake, she doesn't hear his next words.

Pansy tilts her head to the side. "Pardon?"

"You heard me. We should see other people. Don't look so confused. You're not remembering the list of ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion."

Ooh, it's not fair for Draco to being this incident up! It is a long story, in which a house elf burned her sheets with an iron and caused her to dwell on the ruined fabric in Snape's class. How was she supposed to listen to his monotonous lecture with the brown stain on the sheet looming in the back of her mind? Those sheets were special - she and Draco have spent many hours on them. Anyhow, what right did Snape have to pick her to recite the ingredients? So she sat there, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. And then Snape compared her to that Potter boy. Wait a minute! What has Draco just said?

Pansy snaps out of her thoughts, comprehension dawning on her face. "You're breaking up with me? How - how could you?"

"How could I? Like this: Pansy, I'm dumping you."

"We just snogged all night in the Tower and on my bed the week before! I fed you Zingberries! I - I sang to you. You met my parents. We had dinner with them. This isn't happening. It can't. You were supposed to tell me you loved me!"

"Love you?" Draco spits out. "I can't even stand you! You are the cactus needle in my behind. You squeak all day and night about robes, shoes, gloves - the list goes on and on. Like a bloody harpy on a caffeine high, you never shut up. You leech onto me, following me wherever I go. The only thing I can do is snog you senseless, because then you don't talk as much!"

And exactly at this moment, Draco looks past Pansy's crumbling face and sees the sixth-year Gryffindor class. All the students are staring at the two of them (including that certain boy). Suddenly, a high-pitched wail rises out of the room. Hysterical sobbing follows. Rolling his eyes, Draco shoves the nosy Gryffindors out of the way and walks back to his common room. I finally got rid of her at last, he thinks. True, it was a bit heartless, but I needed to get the message across. And I just love the way my robes billow behind me. Shit! I have been spending way too much time with her if I'm starting to notice these things. But it does look damn sexy...

--

Welcome to the inside of Pansy's head as she stands in the dungeons classroom. I'll be your tour guide. Ladies, Gentlemen, and fellow members of the Other box, please sit down and let the stream of consciousness hit you full on:

Everyone is looking at me. They all know. Oh Merlin, make them go away. I'll never ask for anything else as long as I live. Please. They're whispering now. I know they are. I can see their mouths moving, the laughter forming, fingers pointing. The whole school will know about this. I'll never be able to show my face again! I'm trapped in this room. This is nothing like what was supposed to happen! He was supposed to - Merlin, dear Merlin, there is no air. There is no air to breathe. I'm suffocating. Help, someone, help me for the love of - what am I doing here? What did I do to deserve this? Malfoy. That bastard! This is all his fault. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. I'll make him pay. I'll make him suffer for this. I'll make him suffer this. He'll understand the meaning of humiliation. He'll - Oh Merlin, I swear to you I'll make him pay.

--