The Perfect Reflection
Disclaimer: I do not own Pansy or Draco, or any other characters that you think you might have possibly read elsewhere.
Description: Draco thinks about Pansy
I don't pretend to understand you.
I sit beneath this tree by the lake watching the school activities as I tend to my Nimbus 2001. As I am sitting, my eyes stray to Pansy Parkinson, the girl who I am expected to marry. Our parents arranged it when we were small.
Just like they have been arranging all of our lives.
We aren't so different, Pansy and I. We both come from pureblooded wizarding families. We were both born in the month of June. We both have parents who followed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and we are expected to follow in their footsteps and become his Death Eaters for his second coming.
Do either of us want to?
Pansy is standing with a group of Slytherin girls and gossiping loudly in earshot of each of her victims. She is fingering a strand of pearls and rudely remarks, "Unlike people like the Weasels my father can buy me expensive gifts. These pearls were the cheapest thing he gave me this year." She says it just as Ginny Weasley passes her group by to go to Herbology and I can see her fact tint the color of her ginger hair.
Are you really that superficial? Are you really so materialistic that you cannot appreciate anything else that your father would give you? Does your father even love you?
The girls are laughing again and I can hear the topic change to fashion for a little while. I'm no longer thinking about the girl talking to her fake friends but my mind has drifted to a girl who didn't know I was watching her the night before as she cried in our common room.
Your goons are as paid for and hired as mine are. Neither of us are really wanted.
Pansy had been curled up in an armchair with tears streaming down her face. There was blood on her arms from the pitiful scratches she made with her long fingernails.
You scratch yourself because you are too afraid to cut yourself. You're too afraid to cut yourself because you're afraid that someone will find out that you aren't a doll they can buy in a store. You're afraid of your feelings and your convictions in your heart. So am I.
I wondered if I should get a teacher, but I didn't. I tried to convince myself it was none of my business. The red inflammation is gone and only a few scabs remain on her white arms and she wasn't trying to hide it desperately. Her long robes slid up her arms as she spoke animatedly to her crew.
I wonder if you are just trying to see if they are paying attention. Do they even care?
No one is asking any questions, or maybe they are all like me when they see Pansy's scars. Maybe they think they shouldn't get involved because Pansy really wouldn't hurt herself.
Will we bury you?
Pansy catches me staring at her and smiles faintly. I want to smile, but my lips won't curl upwards. I wave instead and Pansy abandons her friends and walks towards me.
"Are you OK?" I ask as she sits down next to me under the tree. She places the end of my broomstick on her lap and begins to stroke the tail twigs.
"What happened to your arm?" I venture out.
"Cat." She replied. Inside I am frowning. Pansy won't look me in the face though. Some of the people around us begin to gawk.
I bet we make the most evil, cunning Slytherin pair of the year. I bet this is what everyone wants to see – the evil Draco Malfoy with the gossiping girl Pansy Parkinson. No one likes them, not even their friends. We are the perfect reflection of their imaginative façade of life. We are their enemies, their source of entertainment, and what will tear them down.
"I'm going to go back to the common room, Drakie." Pansy said suddenly.
You're going to hurt yourself again. You're going to cry.
"OK. I'll see you later."
She pecks me on the check and rushes off quickly. I want to pretend I didn't see the tears glistening in her eyes.
Everyone wants us to be evil, so we are. Then they hate us. What sort of world does that?
I stand up and brush off my robes. Glaring at the students I pass, I make my way through the hallways back towards the Slytherin common room. It's a Saturday, I'm sure there's some homework I could do. I don't want to think anymore. As I open the door I see Pansy standing in front of a mirror in the common room I had never seen before. She has her wand in one hand and with the other she shatters the mirror with her fist.
"Repairo!" She shouts and the glass rearranges itself back into the mirror so that she can break it again. Her knuckles glisten with blood from small punctures.
I wonder what they would think if they could see what they have reduced us to.
She smashes the mirror again and glass scatters on the floor. She looks down and is staring into a million different versions of her reflection. She begins to cry again.
I quietly close the door so that Pansy will never know I was there. I go back to the beginning of the hall and thunder back up the common room. When I fling open the door, the mirror is fixed again and Pansy is smiling and smoothing her robes out. I close the door behind me, but I don't look at Pansy as I descend the steps. I watch her reflection in the mirror.
That's all we are. A perfect reflection of what everyone expects to see.
"Hey Pansy. Want to go for a walk?" I offered as I levitated my broomstick back into my dormitory as if I am showing off to her.
We play this game around each other, even. That's all it is. A game.
"Sure Draco!" She says enthusiastically. I hope the cheering charm she's used won't permanently ruin her face. She must be pretty good at those by now.
As Pansy came to join him at the door, he glanced back at the mirror.
That's all we are. The perfect reflection of what's inside.