Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize, that is, firstly, I don't own any character from Harry Potter. They belong to JKRowling. I don't want Draco or Pansy anyway, sorry. Secondly, as for the song, I don't know who wrote it, but I found the name Tompall Glaser along with the lyrics. Anyway, it's not mine.

A/N: This is my first songfic and it's stupid of me to write one, because I hate reading them myself. Anyway, I heard the song and got this silly idea and couldn't stop thinking about it whenever my dad played the song. Hope I'll be over with it now.

Oh, and I changed some of the lines. Obviously, Draco would not wear jeans, nor would he have a car. This is the first fanfic I'm uploadin here, so I hope it won't be all messed up and that you'll be nice with me…

Put Another Log On the Fire

"Who would ever have thought this?", Pansy thought. When they married, he had been the richest and most wonderful man she could ever imagine. Why, as things were now, she could just as well have married the Weasel. He had been poor, but now that he was a renowned quidditch player, he had more money than the majority ofwhat theMalfoys had lost.

She looked at her husband who was sitting in his normal chair in their little living room in the cottage outside Hogsmeade. He was smoking a pipe – when had he taken to that? – and reading yesterday's Daily Prophet. Not taking his eyes from the newspaper, he muttered:

"Put another log on the fire, and cook me up some bacon and some beans, Pansy…"

"And then I'll go to the broom and change the straw?" Pansy said with, what she thought was very clear irritation in her voice, but Draco didn't even look up.

"Yes. And wash my socks and sew my old black robes."

Oh, why had they had to sell that old house elf? After Voldemort was defeated, Lucius was sentenced to lifetime in Azkaban, and during the fights, Narcissa had been killed. Draco had got all that wonderful, desirable property, including the Malfoy famlily manor in the Lake district. Right after Pansy had married Draco, they had lived there for a while – however, Lucius had also passed on his huge debts to his son (so much for keeping a good reputation in the idiot Fudge's ministry), and, to make a long story short, there was no Malfoy manor to live in any longer. "At least not for me", Pansy thought with a sigh. And Kreacher, however not nice, had been good to have in the house. Really, Pansy could still do with a house elf.

When she had done the chores her husband had set for her, she also obeyed his "Come on, baby, you can fill my pipe, and then go fetch my slippers. And boil me up another pot of tea." She hated him, really. She had loved him, orshe kept telling herself so. But, as the weeks of almost poverty turned tomonths and years, she realized (though she did not like to admit it) that she had been more in love with his money. Right now, actually, she was quite smitten with Weasly's money.

She had never been able to stand his red hair, though. Draco's was still beautifully blond – that is, when she allowed him to wash it. Shampoo is so expensive! No wonder Snape preferred to have it greasy.

Standing in the kitchen, she heard him again:

"Then put another log on the fire, babe, and come and tell me why you're leaving me."

Oh! Not that she had actually told him, not even decided what to do for herself, but she dreamt of something better. She wanted to get away, oh yes. Pansy Parkinson was not supposed to live in a shack like this with a man who probably betrayed her as well. Well, Pansy Malfoy, but that was nothing she was proud of anymore.

She missed the glittering chandaliers of the Malfoy manor. The rooms had been huge, and she had felt more at home in them, than she everhad even in the Slytherin common room among her girl friends. She missed the wonderful kitchen – Pansy had always loved good food and cakes and that stuff. There was little good food in this bloody shack, and no cakes at all. Every day Pansy walked into the village and looked longingly into the shopwindows, especially the ones of the Honey Duke. And she even longed for a butter beer at the Tree Broomsticks, but she could never pop in there. There would probably be young Potter kids playing with Hagrid, red haired like their mother and with green eyes and one with glasses like their father. They knew who she was and they would let her know they did not like her.

Snape had said James Potter was arrogant; Pansy could not tell, since she obviously never had met him. Snape had also said that Harry Potter was arrogant, however, and Pansy could tell, oh yes. Well, he was arrogant, a little at least. But no one ever was as arrogant as her husband, Draco Malfoy. Just hear his tirade about why she should stay with him!

"Now don't I let you polish the broom on Sunday?"

Yes, because you are a lazy ass hole that can't get yourself out of bed on a Sunday.

"Don't I warn you when you're getting fat?"

That's not necessary, thank you very much. With our budget, there is not a single chance for me to get fat. Oh, I wished I could be fat! I look as thin as Weasly did in school!

"Ain't I gonna take you fishin' with me someday? Well, a man can't love a woman more than that."

That would be the first time you raised your hand to get some food on your own plate. As for love, I'll just forget about it. You obviously have.

"Ain't I always nice to your kid sister? Don't I take her flying every night?"

Oh, so that's what you're doing. Well, I knew he was cheating on me. I've got to warn Patty, though. She's not worth him either, though she might believe she is.

"So, sit here at my feet 'cos I like you when you're sweet, and you know it ain't feminine to fight."

Oh really? Then what about your dear beloved aunt Bellatrix? I suppose she wasn't that feminine? But Pansy didn't speak these thoughts out loud, because she knew he wuold never listen.

"So, put another log on the fire.

Cook me up some bacon and some beans.

Go out to the broom and lift it up and change the straw.

Wash my socks and sew my old black robes.

Come on, baby, you can fill my pipe,

And then go fetch my slippers.

And boil me up another pot of tea.

Then put another log on the fire, babe,

And come and tell me why you're leaving me."