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On the outside of the arch windows made from enchanted glass, rain poured down relentlessly, a cold winter storm that would have chilled them to the bone if they were anywhere else.
The Parkinson orangerie faced south, located within a walled garden to the east of her family’s hall. Inside the orangerie were rows of citrus trees, oranges, of course, and lemons, limes and more exotic fare, like yuzu, kumquat and buddha’s hand.
Inside the garden it was warm and smelled of citrus and jasmine blossoms and good, rich earth.
As children, Pansy and Draco played in front of the arch windows under the watchful eyes of Tippy, Pansy’s house elf nanny.
Now at fourteen and on winter hols from Hogwarts, the pair were unsupervised and sticky with fruit juice, sitting on a pair of velvet cushions beneath a tree heavy with Meyer lemons. They had stayed for the Yule Ball but had gotten special permission to Floo home the next day from Professor Snape’s office to spend time with their families. Pansy’s parents in particular did not want her to miss their annual New Year celebration.
Pansy idly leafed through a vintage copy of Witch Weekly looking for ideas for how to style her hair while Draco leaned back against the tree, eyes closed.
“I still can't believe the Weasley girl was there. I thought it was only supposed to be 4th Years and up,” Pansy said in a petulant tone, turning the corner on a page with a witch who had a rather smart looking bob and a stunning jeweled hair pin.
“I can't believe you're still talking about this. Who cares about some silly Gryffindor girl?”
Pansy turned to look at him with accusation in her dark brown eyes. “Pardon me, but did you not spend at least an hour that night complaining about Granger?”
One red-rimmed eye opened to stare at her blearily. He held a blue milkweed joint to his lips and exhaled a cloud of brightly colored smoke before speaking in a raspy voice. “Only because I thought she'd go with Potter. Seeing her with Krum was a shock.”
“Right.” Pansy snorted, turning back to her magazine. “Whatever you say, Draco.”
They sat in silence for a while before Draco stood up, stretching his long legs. The past half year he had begun to shoot up and now, finally, was quite taller than Pansy and liked to show it off every chance he got. He stalked over to one of the trees, plucking a handful of blood oranges before pulling a silver knife from his pocket and sectioning it into quarters.
Dark red juice stained his fingers as he offered a piece to Pansy, a wry grin on his lips.
“Sorry for teasing, Pans.”
She took the fruit and shrugged. “You wouldn't be you if you didn't. Anyway, you never told me what you got up to after I went to bed. I'm positive Daphne and Blaise snogged. She came in at 3 am and woke me up, tipsy on gillywater, the silly bint, and said you were still in the common room. I think they're a couple now.”
Draco sat back down, shoving a bit of orange into his mouth as Pansy babbled about the gossip. He wiped his chin with his shirt sleeve, drops of red staining the fabric. The house elves would be cross but that wasn't his problem.
Finally, he reached over and placed a hand on her scrawny knee. She stopped talking and looked at him, thin dark eyebrows arched in curiosity.
“Pansy, you've been my best friend for as long as I can remember…” Draco said, voice shaking slightly with nerves. “And I hope I've never given you the wrong impression…”
“Oh, Circe’s tits, you don't have to give me this speech. We went as friends. Honestly, no offense but I'd rather snog the giant squid. It would be less incestuous.” Pansy burst out, unable to keep quiet. “Besides, I might have an interest in someone else.”
Draco mentally made a note to interrogate her on that, later. Now that he'd worked up the nerve to have this conversation he was determined to see it through.
“Yes, well, I had to be sure.” Draco muttered. “You wanted to know where I was after the ball.”
She nodded, leaning forward with wide eyes. Draco took a deep breath.
“Theo kissed me. In the common room. We were alone, finishing the last of the Firewhiskey and well, one thing led to another and he kissed me.”
Pansy put the magazine down and tapped her chin with her finger. “Was it any good? He’s got awful teeth.”
“It was, wait, what? That’s your first reaction? Making fun of his teeth?”
She shrugged, looking Draco over. “It’s important information. I mean, did you like kissing him, are you going to kiss him again, is this a whole thing where you’re dating now. You know.”
“No, I really don’t know. I kissed him back, I guess, it was… I was drunk and I don’t know what to do because he ran off to bed right away and we had to Floo home the next morning for your parents’ stupid party.” Draco closed his eyes again, clenching and unclenching his sticky hands into tight little fists. “And before you ask again, his teeth were fine!”
He heard a slight rustling sound as she stood up and walked over to him, wrapping her skinny arms around him tightly. Her scent surrounded him, comforting and warm. Pansy smelled like oranges and butterbeer and one of those terrible floral perfume samples she was always trying out from Witch Weekly.
“I’ll always love you, you idiot. I’m glad it was a nice kiss. You can talk to him when we get back or send him an owl now if you’re scared. But I’ll always love you. You’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”
Draco leaned his head on her shoulder and smiled. Pansy had always been a part of his life, for as long as he could remember she had been his first friend.
“I love you too, you mean little witch. Now it’s your turn to tell me who you’re interested in, then.”
“You’ll never believe me—and you can’t laugh, or I’ll hex you bald.” She pulled out her wand and pointed it at him.
“Leave my hair alone!” Draco said, reaching up to touch his blonde hair.
Pansy laughed, then, a merry sound that echoed in the large space of the orangerie. “I’m just fixing your shirt,” she said, lowering her wand to point it at the juice-stained sleeves. “Scourgify.”
It was a cloudy day in late autumn, the wind outside cold and cruel. Pansy still wore her lime green Healer’s robes as she stood in the dismal lobby of the DMLE at the Ministry, feeling the heavy weight of the secretary’s gaze on her. She kept her eyes on the hideous gray wallpaper, tapping her sensible shoes in a nervous rhythm with the ticking of the clock.
“Parkinson, Pansy. Are you here to take custody of one Malfoy, Draco?” the secretary finally said in a dry tone, shuffling the parchment in her hands.
Pansy nodded and stepped closer, pulling her own stack of paperwork she’d filled out from the expanded pocket of her robes. Both Draco’s parents had passed away during the five years he’d been in Azkaban after the war, there was nowhere for him to go now that his sentence was up, except with her. There had never been any question about where he would go.
The witch took the paperwork from her and examined it briefly, before nodding and writing something down on a bit of parchment. With a wave of her wand, it folded up into a little origami bird and zoomed off through the office to Merlin knew where.
“You can sit down now. They will bring him out shortly.” Her tone left no room for argument, not that Pansy had any fight left in her. The last ten years had been nothing but that, fighting to stay alive, to claw back the tatters of her reputation, to be taken seriously as a Healer trainee.
When they led him out, he looked thin, and he’d never had much weight to spare. His blonde hair was limp and dull and shadows lined his face.
To her surprise, Harry Potter himself held Draco by the elbow, steering him gently towards her.
“Parkinson,” Potter said in a low voice. “Will you be taking him to your home, then?”
As he stood there facing her, he still had not taken his hand off Draco’s arms. Draco swayed slightly, leaning into Potter’s touch. He looked cold, Pansy thought. She tried to look at him clinically, he’d need nourishment potions and a bath, and fresh fruit.
“Pans, a pleasure.” Draco said, his voice raspy. “Haven’t seen you in months.”
It had actually been longer. Visiting hours at Azkaban were quite restricted and Pansy was very rarely able to go.
“Oh, Draco, darling. Yes, I’ll be taking him home, Potter.” Pansy said, trying desperately not to cry in front of that dreadful looking secretary and the savior of the bloody world.
“Let me help you,” Potter said. “I can escort you to the Floo.”
She shook her head. “I’ve prepared a Portkey, they said I could.”
“Let me come with you, then. A Portkey may be tough on him, just in case.”
His green eyes looked strange in that tired face, old beyond his years as well. Pansy stared at him, confused as to why he wanted to help.
“I didn’t blame him, you know. Visited him several times, we talked.” Potter said, as if answering her unspoken question.
Draco didn’t seem to object to his presence and she was concerned she wouldn’t be able to hold onto him if he collapsed during the Portkey journey, so she nodded and took Draco’s other hand before reaching into her pocket to unwrap the bit of silk wrapped around a silver button that led her back home.
“It’s beautiful.” Potter said, once the room had stopped spinning. He held Draco up, clutched against his side.
“It was, once. My great… great, oh, several greats grandfather had this built. He fell in love with a Pureblood witch from Spain and didn’t want her getting homesick.” Pansy said, wiping her mouth. Portkey travel always made her a little ill. “I’m worried about some of these trees though. There’s some sort of blight—” She couldn’t seem to stop babbling, but Potter gave her a kind smile, as if he understood.
Having someone else here to see it made her look around once more with a critical eye. The past few years had not been kind to this place, and her Healer’s salary and hours had not helped. She hadn’t the time or the energy to keep it up the way it once had been. But Potter was right, it was still beautiful, underneath it all. The bones were good.
At that point, Draco staggered forward in a sort of drunken lurch. Both Pansy and Potter tried to catch his arm, but they stumbled, ending up in a slight heap on the soft earth At their feet. Draco knelt down, hand outstretched to caress the bark of one of the trees, tears leaving silvery tracks down his face.
“Darling, let’s go to the house. You need a bath and something to eat,” Pansy said, gently touching her hand to his back. Draco flinched at her touch and Pansy tried desperately not to be hurt.
It wasn’t until Potter helped him up that they were able to move out the door and towards the house. The one elf who still remained was the one who had watched Pansy as a child, her kind eyes supervising them as they played in the orangerie. She had prepared a room for Draco with a warm bath under a stasis charm and a tray with Dreamless Sleep and some vitamin potions.
“I can visit tomorrow, if you like.” Potter mumbled as they moved up the stairs in a sort of three-legged race, each of them underneath one of Draco’s skinny arms. “To check in on him.”
The thought of Potter in her home made her head hurt but the way he was so gentle with Draco left her no choice.
“Yes, please. I’ve taken a leave for this week to get him settled.”
“You work at St Mungo’s, right?” Potter asked.
“Yes, in Artefact Accidents. I specialize in cursed objects.”
They had reached the door of the room where Draco would be staying and took a few moments to bring him inside. Potter stopped and stared at the full copper tub that stood in the center of the room, the steam rising from it smelling of lavender and eucalyptus.
Then, he turned to Pansy. “Are you sure you’ll be able to…”
She understood what he meant immediately and nodded. “I can levitate him.”
But Potter didn’t budge, instead he turned to Draco and said in a soft, gentle voice. “Draco, you’ll need to step forward now, we’ve got to get you into the tub.”
As if he’d put the Imperius on him, Draco moved forward stiffly with Potter’s help, Pansy behind in case he slipped and put his hand on the edge of the tub. They worked swiftly, removing the grimy gray robe and Pansy hissed at the emaciated state he was in, new scars littering his back that she didn’t recognize.
The entire time, she and Potter muttered encouraging words, easing Draco down into the tub where he leaned back and closed his eyes, the blue lines of veins visible on the delicate skin of his eyelids.
“I can go if you’d like. He should be… I can floo Neville, too. For your trees.” Potter said, staring up at the ceiling, avoiding her face.
Pansy tore her gaze away from Draco, the scars on his chest he’d had since 6th Year just visible above the line of the water.
“You can stay, if you’d like.” Pansy croaked, her voice sounding raw and rough to her ears. “I mean, Tippy can put on a pot of tea. You’ve been a great help, Potter, you didn’t have to but… thank you.”
He flushed red and looked at her, eyes red-rimmed beneath his glasses. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone. I’ll just go… to the kitchen then, see about that tea. Thanks, Parkinson.”
Once he left the room, Pansy exhaled sharply, wrapping her arms around herself and watching as the door shut.
“Tippy, make sure he’s got whatever he needs.” Pansy said out loud, before turning to where Draco sat in the scented bath.
She kicked off her shoes and knelt down at the side of the tub, behind Draco’s head. Pulling out her wand she conjured a comb and dipped her hands into the water.
“I’m going to touch you, Draco,” she whispered, before running the perfumed water over his head. He didn’t respond, only sighed softly as she began running the comb through his matted blonde hair.
“I love you, you daft idiot.” Pansy whispered, wiping her tear-stained face with a corner of her robe.
The erratic sound of his breathing slowed and relaxed, and she thought perhaps he’d fallen asleep. But then in a rough voice she heard his faint reply. “I love you, you mean witch.”