Hope Is Impossible
Challenge Seventeen: Messages From The Heart
Title: Hope is Impossible
Author: SeaIsleWitch
Wizard/Witch: Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson
Rating/Warnings: G/PG - Language
Genre: Romance/Despair
Word count: Exactly 750
Prompt: 18. Letter received in error.
Summary: Near the end of sixth year, Draco has accepted his fate, but has he lost hope?
Sometime after midnight, Draco stalked into the common room and slumped into the worn leather of his favourite chair. Another night in the Room of Requirement was capped off with the splitting headache of failure. There was no escaping the relentless pulse, the dull thud of the deathly drum, depriving him of his life beat by beat.
Fate accepted, he had to tell Pansy, but the dread of what she might sense during an intimate exchange made him cringe. Draco vowed never to crumble before her, so maybe if he held it together, she would remember him as impressive and worthwhile.
Exhaling heavily, Draco pulled a self-inking quill and a roll of parchment from his rucksack, taking the coward's way out.
- Pansy,
Everything has changed, and it's over between us.
There's nothing that can be done about it, so don't try.
I never made any promises.
Draco
He stared at the note, bile rising in his throat. I'd sooner jump off the Astronomy Tower than give her that! Draco tore it from the scroll, crumpled it, and levitated it into the bin. Rubbing his temples, he agonized over getting the message just right. I don't want her to forever think of me as some prat.
- Pansy,
The truth is I'm going to die soon, so it's best that you forget about me now.
You'll find someone else who can give you the life you deserve.
Good-bye, Pansy. Be happy.
Draco
That's better," he thought, rereading it. Pansy will marry a handsome, wealthy pure-blood and have his children. And I'll be dead. The idea of someone else living his life made Draco miserable. Maybe I could come back as a ghost, and then I could still talk to her sometimes. I'd torment her bastard husband too! He laughed bitterly, and the note went into the rubbish.
- Pansy,
If it were up to me, I'd never let you go.
I have no control over what happens, so I can't see you any more.
There's no way to change it, and I won't place you in danger.
Please don't hate me for the rest of your life.
Draco
Damn! She's still going to hate me, he thought, disposing of the piece of parchment. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. I wish…
- Pansy,
Let's run away together.
Draco
PS: I love you.
Regrettably, that went into the bin too. If they tried to run, the Death Eaters would find him -- and her. He would never put Pansy in harm's way.
~*~
Draco purposely missed breakfast and skived off his first class. Restless, he dared to sneak into the deserted witches' dorms. Recognizing her delicate style, Draco found Pansy's canopy easily, and he lay amid the fine linens she had no doubt brought from home. He breathed in the lingering herbal scent of her hair potion, allowing his mind to wander to halcyon times. Hugging her pillow, he discovered something inside the casing: the crumpled parchments! Oh, fuck! How did she get these?
Just then, Pansy flew into the room sobbing and startled when she saw him. Draco simply lifted the duvet, and she slid in, her lithe body moulding to his. Ignoring his school-boy desires, he held her as she soaked his crisp white shirt with salty tears. Soothing her made him feel less useless, less hopeless.
Draco couldn't explain the notes or why he was in her bed, but maybe he didn't need to. She was perceptive and probably understood better than he did anyway.
"Pansy," he said eventually, tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear. "I never meant for you to read those. I threw them away."
"They were in an envelope addressed to me."
"Who would do that?"
Pansy shook her head, shrugging. "I don't know if it was cruel or merciful," she whispered. "Everything is so complicated."
"I know," he replied, rubbing her back. "I wanted to finish up here, travel, and…"
Waiting for him to continue, she gazed through lush, wet lashes. Vulnerability suited her, softening her features, and he felt deeply protective.
"I thought we'd end up together," Draco said, squeezing her.
"I did too."
Maybe… "Pansy, if I don't die--"
"Don't say that."
"If things turn out okay, you'll wait for me, then?"
Despite her weepiness, Pansy appraised him in her usual manner: eyes narrowed, finger absently gliding along her bottom lip. "Tell me, Malfoy, which note did you write last?"
Draco actually smiled at her artful cunning. "The love one, Parkinson."
Author's Notes: The title is from a song by Kubichek. Thank you to Missblane for her Proof Witchery.
Proof-reader: missblane