*I own the plot, J.K. Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter, and all the characters…even Draco to my dismay*
“Excuse me? What?” stammered Pansy Parkinson. Her eyes were wide in shock, her heart skipped a beat, and her face grew even paler.
“You heard me, Pansy. I’m marrying her. She’s my dream woman, and we’ve already packed everything. We’re leaving for Paris right after the ceremony tomorrow,” an irate voice said from behind one of the many bookshelves of Flourish & Blott’s.
“But why?” this time Pansy whispered. She couldn’t believe this was real. Sure, she had seen the tabloids, their pictures plastered on the covers of those trashy magazines, but she would always determinedly ignore them. Yet, as Blaise pointed out numerous times, she had never bothered to confront him about it. Pansy’s defense had always been this: she never could have fathomed that the man she loved would cheat on her so blatantly and so readily. Pansy sank to the floor in disbelief, huddling against a bookshelf for comfort.
“She completes me, Pans. She understands everything about me. She’s brave, smart, cunning, loyal…the epitome of a well-rounded Hogwartian. But she’s also kind, gentle, beautiful…”
“But…but she’s just a Mudblood!” cried Pansy. Immediately she regretted her words. Pansy no longer believed in the ideology that Purebloods were above Muggleborns and Half-Bloods. In fact, she had refused to be a Death Eater when her parents tried to coax her into joining.
“No,” she had said, when approached by Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson, “I’d rather stay at Hogwarts, if you please.”
She had even made friends who were Muggleborns, granted it was after the war was over. Pansy counted Dean Thomas as one of her closest friends, and all of his and Parvati Patil’s children called her “Auntie Pansy”. So it was rather unfair of her to call the “gentle, beautiful” woman a Mudblood. Too, after her statement, she became rather fearful, for she could see his hands twitching towards his wand as his eyes flashed angrily.
“Pansy Parkinson, count your blessings you were born a woman, for if you hadn’t been, I’d have already killed you by now,” growled he.
This snapped Pansy out of her fears. How dare he threaten her so openly?! She had taken care of him ever since the war ended. She had wiped his tears when his mother died suddenly. She had given her heart fully to him. And now he had decided to marry another woman? This couldn’t be the man she knew and loved. Infuriated, she started speaking back, or as he had called it “developing a backbone”.
“How could you do this to me, Draco Malfoy?! How could you cheat on me, your ever-loyal wife, with Granger of all people?!” spat Pansy.
“I’ve never loved you. You should’ve known that by now. You must have seen all the tabloids this past year or so. But you never confronted me, even though Blaise told you to. You didn’t want to accept the truth. No Parkinson, you were just too comfortable in your life to accept change, and you didn’t care enough to ask if it was true. You are just a coward,” Draco said coldly.
“I didn’t care enough?!” sputtered Pansy, “I hexed dozens of news reporters who came to me, asking for an interview from the wife who was put aside. ‘No’, I had told them, ‘Draco would never cheat on me, you scumbags. He loves me, and I love him. So keep your vitriolic gossip to yourselves.’ And I am no coward, Draco Malfoy. You are. I’m sure that your fiancée thinks it’s a laugh that she’s had to save your miserable life more than you saved hers. If you had really cared about Granger, you would have stopped dear Auntie Bellatrix from torturing her, instead of bragging to the entire Slytherin class that ‘Mudblood Granger’ had finally ‘learned her place’. If you had cared, you would have thanked her for saving your miserable existence those three times during the final battle. No, Draco, it is you who doesn’t care. Now that you're done with pug-faced Parkinson, you’re after Golden-girl Granger. She’s just another trophy for you to put on your shelf.”
“I’m done discussing this with you. Clearly, you’re too bitter to be happy for me,” sighed Draco, running his fingers through his blonde hair. Pansy secretly thought that it looked much better without all that nasty gel he had constantly put on during his Hogwarts years, but she was too infuriated to say so.
“Bitter? You think I’m bitter? How very observant of you, Malfoy…but wait, I’m not only bitter. No, I am livid. Livid to think that only last Monday, I was sitting down to breakfast when you asked me to sign a statement for the shopping I had done over the weekend, trusting my loving husband, only to find out that he had tricked me into signing divorce papers! Livid to think that barely a week since our divorce was finalized, you’re marrying that bushy-haired tart that you’ve done Merlin-knows-what with for a year and a half. You’re cruel and you’re heartless. If Narcissa were still here, she’d be thoroughly ashamed of you,” Pansy glared.
“Don’t you bring my mother into this, Parkinson,” growled Draco.
“And why ever not? Scared to think that the pug is right and that Mummy dearest isn’t too pleased right now up in heaven? Oh yes, I know you’ve called me an irritating pug…Blaise has told me everything,” spat Pansy.
“You are nothing but an irritant, Pug-inson. My mother would stand by me no matter what happened,” Draco laughed harshly.
“Really? Just like she stood by Lucius when he tried to ‘Crucio’ those poor Muggle boys two years after the war finished? No, if I remember correctly, she turned him in to the Aurors and left him. Clearly she wasn’t such an obedient slave like Luci-fer expected her to be.”
“Don’t you ever speak about my father that way!” Draco’s eyes flashed as he spoke, and he was fighting an urge within him that wished he could just ‘Avada’ the pug.
“Your father was a murderer, a cheater like you, and a liar, also like you. Does that mean that in a few years, you’ll be a murderer too Malfoy? After all, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree…” sneered Pansy, but just then Draco Malfoy dismissed her cooly. He didn't even react! How much the man she had loved had changed. Draco was now a cold, unfeeling person.
“I don’t ever want to hear from you again. The lawyers have decreed that you gain half of my properties, half of my inheritance money, and half of my yearly income. So don’t come whining to me that you are a poor pauper. Goodbye, Pansy Parkinson,” Draco said coldly, not even fazed his ex-wife was sobbing dramatically, nor offering a tissue/handkerchief.
“But Draco, wait! I’m…”
A loud “POP” resonated in the bookstore, and Draco Malfoy disappeared.
“…pregnant with your child,” Pansy whispered tearfully. Slowly, she crumpled to the floor as sobs overtook her body.
Around the corner, a red-haired man was shocked and furious. He couldn’t believe his ears, but it must’ve been true. But how could Draco Malfoy leave his wife like that? And how could Hermione have fallen in love with the Ferret over her ex-boyfriend? No matter how hurt he was however, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Pansy Parkinson and his attention focused back on the distraught dark-haired ex-Slytherin. Even when wrought with tears, she was still lovely and ever-dignified. Mustering up all the courage that stood in the heart of this ex-Gryffindor, Ronald Weasley approached Pansy Parkinson.
“Hello Pansy, fancy a handkerchief?”
“What do you want, Ron?” hiccoughed Pansy as she accepted the handkerchief, not noticing that the embroidery on it was two initials that were the cause of her misery: H.G.
“I heard it all…and I’m sorry. It’s horrid; I would know, I’m in the same boat as you. But you and me, we’re different from them. Their ambition drives them, and if an opportune moment appears, they leave suddenly with very few regrets. We, on the other hand, try to stay with what is comfortable to us. We don’t notice the problems until it’s too late to change anything from its current course, and ultimately we get left behind. But I think, out of the two scenarios, I’d rather be what I am, instead of being overly-ambitious. For we live content lives, whereas the overly-ambitious will never be happy,” Ron whispered gently.
Pansy’s head looked up at that. Could it be true? Would she really ever be happy again? Would Draco ever feel regret? So caught up in her thoughts, she barely noticed Ron staring at her intently.
“Is there something you wanted, Ron?” sighed Pansy.
“Yes: do you want to go to dinner with me, Pansy?” Ron asked, adding softly, “I’ll never leave.”
Those words caused Pansy to look up and stop crying. She weighed the pros and cons for several minutes, and after those minutes of thinking, she stood up, dried the final tears from her eyes, and took Ron’s hand. Hand-in-hand, they walked away and never looked back.
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