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Pansy Parkinson was a girl that knew what she wanted, how to get it, and where to find it. She knew that she loved tight, skimpy skirts that just barely showed a bit of scandalous cheek. She knew that she wanted to run her own bar one day, full of fruity pink drinks named after all of her favorite designers. She had even known since her sixth birthday that she wanted to marry Draco Lucius Malfoy.
After a single birthday party, a first time meeting between Pansy and Draco, he had her heart in the palm of his hand - and he surely had to know it. She had the pleasure of knowing the little, innocent face of a platinum haired Draco Malfoy while he figured out the difference in playing by himself with only house elves to entertain him, and finding real companionship with someone his age, or even his species.
She loved watching the boy grow up into a taller, snarkier version of the little boy she had once played dragons with. As he entered his teenage years, Pansy lovingly watched his face grow sharper. He smiled less, flirted more, and Pansy’s preteen heart raced every time he said her name.
Then, they were eighteen. A war had ruined the little boy she once knew. She had witnessed the light slowly dissipate in his eyes, his consistent frown turn colder and deeper, and he began to turn inward instead of relying on the companionship they’d grown together.
After eighteen came twenty-two. Then, Draco’s eyes finally began to shimmer in the sunlight again and his frowns began settling into satisfied and mischievous smirks that Pansy would never admit made her heart grow larger every time one was directed at her. He began to wear fancier clothes, seeking out Pansy’s advise on suit designers and professional tailors. She had happily shared every bit of knowledge and now, couldn’t help but credit herself every time she found Draco showing up in a well fitted, sleek and crisp suit designed beautifully by any one of her suggestions.
Draco Lucius Malfoy was irrefutably debonair and Pansy Parkinson wanted him. Then, now, and possibly for the rest of her damn life.
Hermione Granger appeared at Pansy’s flat in a cloud of green in front of her. She held two dresses on either side, looking expectantly at her best friend that sat relaxed into the velvet sofa. Pansy rose a single, curious eyebrow at Hermione, then took a slow look over both dresses she had appeared with.
The brunette curly haired girl stood in pajamas, a pair of horrid, he plaid bottoms that Pansy had already begged her to throw away, and a pink tank top to cover her braless chest. One dress was purple and hideous, ruffling at the bottom (which was calf length, by the way) and the other was orange - which should be illegal in general but at least it was short and fitting.
“Neither!” Pansy scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What do you think you are, a vegetable? Purple and orange are neither of the colors I’ve told you that go with your skin tone. Don’t you ever listen when I tell you these things?”
”Not when it’s a twenty minute lecture about my skin. I do have bigger problems in my life than color theory.”
Which made Pansy gasp obscenely. “Like what?”
Hermione rolled her own eyes then, “Oh, I don’t know, my job? But that’s beside the point, you hate both of my dresses. What am I supposed to do now?”
”Wear one of mine,” She insisted back, shrugging as if it were obvious. She lifted her hand to effortlessly check her freshly painted fingernails, “The emerald one would look divine on you, truly.”
”Oh no, no way.” Hermione insisted stubbornly. She dropped her arms low, letting the dresses drag on the floor as she crossed the room to Pansy. “I’m not doing that again.”
”So Theo made one remark, Granger, is it seriously the end of the world?” Pansy asked, looking from her neat cuticles to the curly haired Gryffindor in front of her. “Like I said, the emerald would look incredible.”
”The emerald one is too short.” Hermione replied quickly.
Pansy snorted, “And?”
”And I prefer when my entire arse is covered, thank you.” She huffed back, taking a seat on the sofa.
“Then the scarlet one.”
“No.”
“What could possibly be wrong with that one? It reaches mid-thigh!”
”It shows too much chest.” Hermione argued.
“When has chest ever been an issue?” Pansy asked mischievously, knowing exactly what Hermione Granger’s work shirts usually showed off to the ministry.
Hermione flushed, thinking about the same shirts likely, “Since… now. It’s an issue now and I will not wear the scarlet dress.”
“Granger, how do I say this lightly,” Pansy sighed slowly, letting the silence hang in the air as she pretended to think hard, but then smirked at Hermione. “You dress like a literal thousand old witch who hasn’t spoken to any real humans in the last decade.”
Hermione’s blushed deepened and her brows shot up in offense. She smacked Pansy on the shoulder, “Hey! My style is not that bad.”
”Yes, it is.” Pansy insisted further which made Hermione squint accusingly. “Please, I am begging you to let me help. You forget that I’m the entire reason Draco even has an ounce of fashion, yes?”
”No, how could I forget it when you remind me every time he wears Deville Lacroux?” Hermione replied, “If you think I want to dress like Draco, then you are absurdly incorrect. I happen to like my cotton jumpers and corduroy trousers, thank you very much.”
Pansy physically recoiled, “Ew, Granger, don’t say cotton while sitting on my sofa - better yet, within my flat. Come on, to my closet we go!”
”I hate your closet,” Hermione whined and Pansy clicked her tongue.
”Yes, well, you hate anything that isn’t ugly and unflattering.”
”Hey!”
Hermione stood idly by the door to Pansy’s ginormous walk-in closet that was filled from wall to wall, sorted by colors and garment. It was intricately organized by the beautiful, expansive mind of Pansy Parkinson, and she knew exactly where every single piece of clothing sat, every designer that it belonged to, and which pair of shoes (that had their own closet, mind you) would match it best.
Pansy pulled one, then two, three, and finally a fourth before she turned to Hermione with a great, excited grin. “Try this one first.” She told her, pushing it out for her to take.
Without a single move to grab the garment, Hermione glared at Pansy. “That is the emerald one.”
“Yes, I know! Granger, listen to me closely. Your arse will never look better.”
”My arse is perfectly fine even when my dress reaches my feet. You’re insufferable, did you know?”
”Only you tell me that, so - yes. I did. But this is not about me, it’s about your abysmal choices of elegant wear. After all, it’s Draco’s birthday party and you know his parents will be there. Elegance is of importance now more than ever.”
“Showing arse in front of the Malfoy’s is not what I consider elegant, Pans.”
And Pansy disagreed because she did it all the time. Narcissa often complimented her on her outfit, especially if it happened to include rhinestones. Lucius Malfoy always gave her an affirming nod and the tiniest smile she thought he might be able to muster, so she considered that to be just as good of a response as his wife’s.
If only Draco would look her up and down, take her waist, and dip her to kiss her as she’d never been kissed before.
But… Instead he usually greeted her with his usual, unwelcoming sneer as he always already had something to complain about. He never looked down at her busting bosom, or checked the way her bodice made an incredible curve at her waist, or even when forementioned arse was nearly out!
She could wear the shortest dress, the bustiest one in her closet, a piece that would truly scream Draco, I’m here to fuck as soon as you say the word. But word would never come, interest never showed, and Pansy was always left watching the way he flirted with other women, checked the curvature of other chicks, and even admired the way another girl’s arse sat in her dress, or peeked out from under her skirt.
But it was never Pansy. Never, not even once.
Hermione Granger tried on three dresses that she completely disregarded within minutes of having them on.
It’s way too revealing, Pansy.
This one is the color of puke, I am not wearing it!
You can practically see my nipples right now, I’m taking this off.
Pansy pushed the emerald dress into Hermione’s arms with vigor. “Try it on.”
With it being the last dress Pansy had grabbed for her, she resigned with a huff. “Fine,” she replied through clenched teeth. “I’ll try the damn dress on.”
”You’ll look gorgeous, I already know.”
Hermione scoffed in defiance as she tore the nipple-intense skin tight dress down her body.
Pansy knew that she had been right all along (like usual) the moment Hermione’s mouth shut and her jaw tightened upon seeing herself in the reflection. The girl stood tall, head facing forward with her eyes trained on herself. Pansy admired her creation, eyeing Hermione up and down to take in the beauty of it all.
Granger was stunning in emerald.
“Yes,” Pansy whispered softly, “Granger, you were made for this dress.”
Hermione’s chest deepened to a red flush and she awkwardly tugged the hem down, practically begging it to stretch longer. Pansy eyed the movement and stepped forward to take Hermione’s hand, “It’s fine. You look good. Gorgeous, even. Don’t worry about the length, just look how the color makes your eyes pop and your hair shine! ”
And it seemed to work because Hermione did. She looked over herself in the mirror a few more times, a small smile beginning to grow on her lips. “Well, I hate to say it but you might have been right about the emerald.”
”I know,” Pansy gloated, happily. “I am always right about clothes.”
Draco Malfoy’s parties were always an event. Ever since Pansy had met Draco, she’d looked forward to every single birthday, every year. One time the Malfoy’s had rented an entire circus for ten year old Draco, and once a dragon performer for his fifteenth. Fireworks on his twelfth, and an entire live orchestra on his seventeenth - the year he’d really been into classical music.
The same year that Pansy thought she might finally have had a chance, the same year that Draco Malfoy took up dancing lessons and needed a partner - Pansy, a willing volunteer quick to say that she was nice enough to help the poor, partnerless bloke out.
They’d spent months dancing together in big, elegant dance halls and in the shadows of the dim lit Malfoy ballroom. Pansy was the luckiest girl in her year, and she knew that. She had the chance to see Draco Malfoy under the moonlight shining in from the large, crystal clear windows. She had the privilege to hold his hand, his own on her waist as he directed her swiftly, elegantly to the rhythm of his favorite classical tunes.
Year seventeen had been a bliss for Pansy Parkinson.
But, he moved on from classical music and began heavily reading in the lonesome of his dorm instead. She barely saw him the entirety of that year, lost to the world around him as she, now in hindsight, understood was a deeply unhealthy time of inner turmoil for him. And she wished he had stayed with her, stayed dancing under the moonlight with his fingers merely scraping at the revealed skin of her hip.
“Wow,” Hermione Granger mused from Pansy’s left. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Yes” Pansy came back to reality, “Welcome to your very first Draco Malfoy birthday party.”
Hermione glanced at Pansy then, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I will be less than impressed if I see no live animals nor any famous wizard impersonators.”
Pansy laughed wickedly, pulling Hermione by her wrist. “Then in we shall proceed.”
Beyond the gates of Malfoy manor, the courtyard was decorated with purple lights, emitting a glow that turned everything under it a slight pink. They walked under lights, through the hedges that guided them towards the back of the property. As they grew closer, the rumble of chatter increased into conversations that Pansy could finally make out as they entered the back.
Hermione gasped as she realized the grandiose of the Malfoy’s birthday funds, and Pansy let her take it all in. Ever since Hermione had joined their friend group, Pansy had watched the way the girl’s eyes would widen at casual talk of family banking accounts, yearly income, and simply at the choices of cocktails they all chose while out.
While Hermione would order a a simple vodka and cranberry juice, Draco consistently chose the most expensive glass of scotch that the establishment offered. Pansy loved to explore wine, and she couldn’t help that the most exotic wines were hundreds of galleons per glass. Blaise and Theo often compared whiskey that had been aged for thousands of years, so yes - they obviously cost a lot, just as well. And still, Pansy paid Hermione’s tab every time.
That is also why Pansy immediately noticed the theme of this year’s birthday party was most definitely open bar. She spotted an entire bar set up near the patio that had probably twenty taps, another bar set up on the other side that obviously had bottles upon bottles of surely aged and finely crafted liquor.
Tall, round tables with sleek black cloths were scattered about the yard and an entire dance floor sat under an awning. Older witches and wizards walked the premises, chatting and surveying as they likely gossiped about each other or the hosting family.
Pansy finally spotted Draco Malfoy.
He stood tall in a three piece suit, as he had been doing for his birthdays ever since he had turned twenty one. His pants were dark and perfectly tailored (of course) and his coat was a deep purple that conveniently matched the lights at the front of the property. It looked as though his coat might be velvet and Pansy wished to run her hands up the back, maybe down the lapels and possibly right into-
“Oh! It’s Draco!” Hermione noted, pointing towards the boy Pansy was already fully aware of. She blinked, pulling herself from the state of mind that was incredibly inappropriate for the moment. “Let’s go!”
“Yes,” Pansy cleared her throat elegantly, professionally. “Let’s.”
Then, she walked side by side with Hermione Granger as they crossed the lawn towards Draco and what looked like might be distant family. A short blonde woman, a wide brown haired man, and their small child that looked rather pissed off about being here.
Which was fair, if the theme was alcohol based and included no foreseeable dragon performances.
Hermione and Pansy waited patiently for Draco to wrap up his conversation, so they stood idly by with soft chatter about look, it’s Ernie Macmillan - oh, it’s Hannah Abott - Merlin, Astoria’s dress looks like it was picked right off of a peacock!
Finally Draco’s gaze cast out towards the party and he caught sight of the two girls waiting for him off to his side. With a smirk off amusement at them, he turned to his guests and bid them a farewell.
Pansy nearly melted the moment Draco Malfoy turned around and gave them a large grin, holding his hands out. “Welcome. I’m glad you both have made it.”
”We weren't going to, you know. Who would want to show up to some snotty, rich purebloods birthday party?” Pansy asked with a large eye roll, clicking her tongue at him. “Truly, not I.”
”Or I,” Hermione chipped in. “Sounds like the worst night of my life, honestly.”
And Draco’s gaze turned easily from Pansy to Hermione. “Is that so? Your worst night? Just… don’t drink the scotch and I think you’ll manage fine.”
”Why is that?” Hermione wondered, “Because it’s the birthday boy’s scotch and he will avada anyone who thinks about touching it?” Her tone was… flirtatious?
Pansy curiously looked at her friend’s face, who minded her none and paid only attention to Draco Malfoy. He responded just as cool and effortlessly, “No, it is because I had my father purchase the highest ABV he could manage.”
Pansy looked at Draco then, “Oh gods, do you plan to get wasted?”
Draco looked at her, too. He’d always been so good at looking at you as if you were the only person in the world. She loved that about him, and honestly she wished he’d look at her and no one else for the rest of their lives. She challenged his stare easily, as she’d done so the entire time she’d known him. “Yes. It is my birthday.”
”Your parents are here.”
”And?”
Pansy glared, “Last time you got drunk in front of your parents, your mother cried because you wouldn’t stop saying bad words.”
Hermione laughed from beside them and Pansy had honestly forgotten that she was involved at all. Like she mentioned before, Draco was so very good at making you feel secluded from reality, just tucked away in your own little world.
Draco seemed to remember Hermione, too, and smirked wickedly towards her. “You laugh now, Granger. Just wait until you’re five vodka crans in and you have to deal with Theodore Nott’s obnoxiously terrible tipsy tantrums.”
”Theodore Nott is not my problem,” Hermione argued with a shake of her head. “He is yours. I will enjoy my vodka crans in peace knowing that.”
And Pansy hated that she noticed the way Draco’s lips tipped up, his eyes roared in the way Pansy knew meant he was excited about something, and she watched Hermione mirror the same. Which was… odd.
Her eyes shifted between the two hastily as they conversed. Hermione would say something and Draco would respond quickly, as if he were anticipating his next response to her eagerly. As if maybe he didn’t want her to stop talking to him at all. As if Pansy weren’t standing right there!
She was about to interject selfishly, but the loud boom of Theodore Nott’s voice did so for her. “Happy birthday to my best pal, my brother from another mother, my absolute platonic soulmate!”
Draco turned to give Theo a signature venomous glare, “What did I tell you about using the term soulmates in reference to us?”
”Well,” Theo held his hands up in defense, “You told me not to. However, I refuse to acknowledge that you did. Therefore, come here, my platonic soulmate!” He chirped again, leaning in to give Draco a hug. One that was not even remote reciprocated. Theo pulled back after a second and looked over Draco once, “You’re only one drink in, aren’t you?”
”Yes,” Draco confirmed, mildly impressed. “And I’ve got two entire bars over there, so please let’s help ourselves.”
Pansy got a rosé that tasted of cherries and hibiscus, the flavor settling softly onto her taste buds as she hummed in appreciation. She stood next to Hermione, who was eager to grab the simple vodka cran from the bartender. The boys were a few steps away, choosing aged liquor that was possibly more expensive than the dress Pansy was wearing.
She looked their direction, watching the way Draco stood, a hand casually on his hip as he leaned closer to the woman serving them. Pansy could tell he was flirting by the way he was smirking largely, tilting his head to the side, and paid attention to only her.
Theo stood by him with his drink already poured, laughing amusedly at whatever Draco was saying to charm the witch.
“How is your wine?”
Pansy startled as Hermione spoke, also looking at the two boys down the bartop. “Hm? Oh,” she looked down at her glass, watching the way the liquid shimmered up at her. “It’s delightful. Sweet, but not too much. And yours?”
”Delightful, too.” Hermione agreed with a short nod and finally tore her eyes away from the others to face Pansy. “I truly fear that my arse is falling out of this dress. Are you absolutely sure I’m completely covered back there? I feel a draft…”
Pansy couldn’t help but giggle at her friend, shaking her head. “Your arse is covered, Granger. Don’t sweat it.”
”But what if Mrs. Malfoy-“
”She won’t.”
”What about Mr. Malfoy-“
”He won’t, either.”
“What about Draco?”
”What about Draco?” Pansy asked with a curious eye raise at Hermione. The girl opened her mouth to respond but was cut off,
”What about Draco?”
Because Draco Malfoy has truly always had the best timing. He stood in front of the girls now, Theo at his side sipping at his drink. Draco wore an amused smirk, his eyes switching between the two witches that just so happened to be talking about him. And there was no hiding it whatsoever.
“What about… your drink?” Pansy covered easily, “What did you get?”
Draco didn’t seem to believe her entirely, and to be fair, Pansy wouldn’t either. But with a final glance between the girls, he shrugged. “It’s fine. Well made.”
And Pansy didn’t want to think about whether or not he only said that because he was downright nearly proposing to bed the witch who made it. Instead, Pansy gave him a loose smile. Looking past Draco, she spotted Draco’s parents and they were already looking towards the congregating group.
Narcissa’s smile shined brightly as she waved to Pansy, ushering her to come say hello. Pansy felt deeply inclined to do so, shifting on her feet in hesitation. She sighed softly, turning to Hermione. “I’m going to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Would you like to come?”
And Pansy caught the panic that flashed through Hermione’s eyes. Maybe it was fear of Draco’s parents, or perhaps she was thinking about how (truly, not really) short her dress was. Or she simply was reminded of everything bad that Draco’s family once had been. Pansy shook her head in understanding, “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
With grateful eyes, Hermione smiled kindly at her and nodded. Pansy walked forward to be in front of Draco then, reaching out to pat his velvet lapels. “Happy birthday, Draco. Nice suit.”
”Thanks, Parks.” He told her back, looking at her in the way she adored the most. The look that made her surroundings dissipate, the voices fade into the distance, and any music vanish entirely. It was just him and her, Draco and Pansy.
Just like when they’d shared a celebration party after they finished Hogwarts together, just like when they shared a bed every time they stayed over at each other’s place, just like when they had held hands as children and played house as husband and wife.
Then, Pansy cut off the eye contact and smiled at him before passing between him and Theo, on her way to his parents. She saw Draco in both of them, the way Narcissa’s eyes sparkled matched the way they did in Draco’s, too. His father smirked menacingly with every word he spoke, then sneered with every silence he held - just as Draco did.
And they truly loved her like a daughter… she assumed.
Narcissa gathered her into a firm hug and Lucius offered her one of the least menacing smirks she’d seen before and she gave them a small bow as a greeting. “Wonderful party, Mrs. Malfoy.”
”Thank you, darling. Celebrating Draco is always a privilege.” Narcissa told her softly, and Pansy agreed wholeheartedly. Indeed, it was a privilege to even know Draco Malfoy. “I see you have brought your new friend.”
Pansy looked over her shoulder at her friend group to see that Blaise had joined their mix, his own whiskey already poured and clinking against Theo’s as a toast. Her eyes shifted to Hermione, who Narcissa was very obviously talking about. The former Gryffindor girl was looking up at Draco, and him down at her. Pansy caught the way Draco tilted his head, saying something that made Hermione’s eyes widen and then she burst into a laugh that was girly and cute.
Draco’s returning smirk was handsome and showed off the dimple that Pansy had quite a history of teasing him for. She tore her eyes away because she knew exactly what that smirk meant.
“Granger?” Pansy specified, thrusting the idea of Draco flirting with Hermione out of the window. “Yes, Draco invited her. We’ve been going out for drinks after work for a while now, she is… delightful.” She chose her words carefully and intentionally.
Narcissa’s eyes were not sparkling like they just had, and Lucius’s silent sneer was deadlier than usual. It quite frankly petrified Pansy. She needed to change the subject.
“My mum said that you two are going to Switzerland? How incredible is that?”
After too many minutes of Narcissa explaining Malfoy familial ties to Switzerland, and why they’ve chosen now to take a month long holiday, how much she will miss her Dracobear - which was a burn Pansy put in her pocket for later - she finally made an excuse to leave and turned around to find her friends once more.
As she headed back to them, she felt her stomach drop a little bit more at the way she noticed Hermione leaning over the bartop, waiting patiently for her next cocktail to be made. That was fine - in fact, she looked amazing in Pansy’s dress, staring softly into space in thought.
What burdened Pansy was the way Draco was focused in on her, his eyes trained exactly on the spot where the emerald dress cut off. Right where you could absolutely see a little bit of her arse (but Pansy would never, ever tell Hermione that)
Draco Malfoy was staring at Hermione Granger in the way Pansy had always begged and pleaded for him to look at her. And there Hermione stood, so blissfully unaware of the eyes trained on her body, the body that Pansy had dressed from her own closet. Her cheeks flushed as she considered the very real possibility that Draco Malfoy was into Hermione Granger.
And not her. Never her.
Pansy sucked in a breath as she tore her eyes away, rolling them softly. Theo caught her gaze because he, too, was witnessing the way Draco was nearly undressing Hermione from meters away. Theo raised both brows, sipping his drink slowly - knowingly. Pansy rolled her eyes at him, too.
”Draco, you won’t be joining your parents in Switzerland, then?” She asked loudly, coming up from behind him.
Draco finally tore his eyes away from Hermione’s arse and turned to face Pansy. He shrugged easily, smiling down at her. “Why would I want to? All they do on holiday is fuck.”
“Draco!” Pansy gasped and Theo choked on his drink, covering his mouth and laughed under his hand. “I’d rather not think about your parents doing anything rated above PG.”
But Draco was all too pleased with himself for saying it, standing satisfied with a smirk. Hermione returned to the group, holding something other than a vodka cran for the very first time. It was… scotch, Pansy believed.
She took a breath before she downed the rest of her wine.
There was a string quartet that was playing pieces that Pansy found all too familiar. Draco’s favorites, she recognized. Ones they’d most definitely danced to in their prime. She’d always been his number one, no matter how many girls he snogged behind pillars in Hogwarts, or how many times he got detention for getting caught with his hand down witch’s pants.
With all of the girls that were never, ever her.
Yet, he still chose to dance with her every time. That’s why when he smiled at her, held out his hand, and led her to the dance floor before anyone else had the guts to start dancing, she went with him without a single thought to it. He still always chose her.
Dancing with Draco felt like childhood, it felt like doing something she’d always loved to do. The crowd gathered and watchers admired them as they danced just as they always had. Pansy felt loved, cherished, and safe in the arms of Draco Malfoy, and she always had.
That’s why when the dance was over and they laughed breathlessly together, she instantly missed his touch as they let go of each other.
“Amazing footwork,” Draco admired. “Almost as amazing as the cello harmony in that song.”
Pansy pushed him playfully as the crowd of watchers clapped softly for them. Draco guided her off the stage as another song softly began and dancing couples started to fill the stage.
His hand was gentle on her lower back, just a ghost of a touch and Pansy wished to slow down, back into his hand, and feel the firmness against her. But she happily trotted along, smiling to her friends once they rejoined them to the side.
“You are next,” Draco suddenly said and Pansy looked up at him, just as Hermione did. He was saying that to Hermione.
Pansy almost laughed out loud. Hermione? He was going to dance with Hermione? Draco and Hermione had never taken dance lessons, or spent hours twirling about in dim ballrooms. Hermione and Draco had never tripped over each other’s feet, laughing until they cried because they’d fallen on top of each other. Draco had never pushed Hermione up against the wall that one night he’d almost kissed her after a particularly powerful dance.
Dancing had always been a thing for Pansy and Draco. Draco and Pansy. For them, not for Hermione and Draco.
She looked between the two as Draco held out an impatient hand, “Come.” He directed her, simple and demanding. Pansy nearly vomited right then and there, looking at the hand in front of her, outstretched towards Hermione instead.
Dancing was theirs. Draco, don’t you know that? It was always meant to be theirs, he was always supposed to choose her.
But instead, Pansy watched helplessly as Hermione shook her head only once, her freckled cheeks burning a soft pink that looked all too glamorous on her. Draco shook his hand once at her, “Just follow my lead.”
A sharp pain shot through Pansy’s chest when Hermione hesitated only a few seconds before reaching forward, taking Draco’s hand right in front of her. Her heart burned, broke, and sunk to the bottom of her gut. Draco guided Hermione out to the floor, not a single worry as to what his parents or anyone else would think and pulled Hermione close.
This dancing was different. It was not rehearsed or precise, it had not been practiced to perfection. Pansy and Draco’s dances never consisted of fumbling feet and nervous laughter but this one did. Draco held Hermione’s right hand out to guide her, and pulled her waist close, his hand protectively on her side. Pansy eyed the movement, watching the way he used his thumb to press into her side to direct her on which way he was going to turn them, just like he did to Pansy.
It was their code, between him and her. But now Hermione shared it, too. Amongst the other dancers on the floor, Hermione stood out in her emerald dress cut sinisterly short and Draco clad in his dark purple that looked shockingly good against hers.
”How much do you want to bet they’ll hook up tonight?” Pansy heard Blaise ask Theo quietly behind her. She whipped around to glare at him. Blaise’s eyes widened at her and he slowly brought his drink up to his lips, hiding a wicked smirk.
Theo hid a snicker with a cough, covering his mouth elegantly. “Not cool, Blaise. Not cool.”
“You both are morons. And idiots, too, if you think they’ll hook up.”
Neither of them responded to her, each taking another nonchalant sip of their drinks. She squinted, annoyed with them and turned back to watch Draco suddenly spin Hermione around, her smile wide and his dimple deep. He then pulled her impossibly close, closer than the required, professional distance that Pansy was used to from him.
Damn it, Pansy realized, they were totally going to hook up tonight.
Draco was sweating by the time he returned Hermione back to the group. When his hand should’ve dropped from behind her, Pansy watched Draco press into her lower back and rub appreciatively.
Her heart ached and her lips twitched, glancing away from them entirely.
Theo clapped them on and Blaise told them that they were very Romeo and Juliet, which Draco then (rightfully) questioned if Blaise had poisoned either of their drinks while they were gone and was hinting at it.
Pansy couldn’t help the way she absolutely did not feel like conversing with any of them. Not Theo nor Blaise, who obviously knew that Draco wanted to fuck Hermione Granger. Not Draco, who very likely wanted to fuck Hermione Granger. And not even Hermione, who also very likely might like to fuck Draco Malfoy - because why wouldn’t she?
He was Draco Lucius Malfoy!
Pansy glanced at them again, standing side by side as they laughed together at something Theo said, Blaise slapping his shoulder at it. Pansy noticed the shrinking distance between Draco and Hermione with self pity.
Why was it never her? Why did Draco never want her?
Draco danced with Pansy again. It was one of their favorites, a soft waltz that included multiple dips. Pansy had always loved the girly feeling of the dance, the way he spun her around and around, then dipped her low and always winked at her as he succeeded the move.
Tonight, he bent her and smirked successfully, but no wink came.
Pansy wondered if it was because Hermione Granger was likely watching? Her heart ripped more, deeper and bloodier. Why wasn’t he choosing her?
Draco danced with Hermione again. He was another drink down and most of the crowded had begun to flock home. Draco’s parents remained yet, watching the two of them upon the stage with contemplative disgust. Pansy felt bad about that, but felt even worse as she watched Draco demonstrate a dip to Hermione, then orchestrate it nearly perfect on the first go.
Pansy looked away before knowing if he’d saved the prideful wink for her.
They’d returned with panting breaths, happy glows, and stood closer than even before. Pansy was near to losing it, taking a large and long gulp of her wine. “I need more,” she admitted, shaking her empty glass.
“Oh, I’ll come with you!” Hermione chirped excitedly. “I’m nearly finished, too.”
With her second scotch, Pansy had noted in her head. She gave her friend a kind smile that likely did not meet her eyes and nodded, “Off we go, then.”
It was silent as they began out of the awning and Pansy tapped her fingers on the wine glass, making the only sound around them besides the fading music. Hermione looked at Pansy, but she refused to return the look, fearing that she might emotionally combust if she did.
”Are you… okay, Pansy?” Hermione finally asked as they neared the bar. Pansy learned forward on the bartop to gain the attention of the bartender that Draco had previously flirted with, hoping to entirely avoid the accusing tone of the other witch Draco had been flirting with all night as well.
Why was he flirting with everyone but Pansy. Always everyone but her.
“I’m dandy.” Pansy replied bluntly.
Hermione leaned forward onto the bartop, too, staring directly at Pansy. “What’s wrong?”
”Nothing, Granger. I said that everything was dandy.”
”That’s what you say when things are certainly not dandy.” She accused, correctly, but the blonde haired bartender turned their way and Pansy rattled off another rosé that she hoped to try. Hermione offered another Italian scotch name that Pansy knew she’d heard Draco order before.
Pansy held back an accusing eye roll which was her usual specialty. Hermione continued to stare, waiting for Pansy to admit what was, very obviously, wrong. “You know that I adore everything about you,” Pansy started, glancing softly at her friend.
“Yes, you tell me often enough. Have I done something wrong?” She asked worriedly, searching Pansy’s eyes for an answer.
How was she meant to say this? She had never told anyone of her feelings for Draco, it was her secret. A secret she may take forever to the grave, to be buried with so that no one will ever find out how badly she wished that a certain blonde boy would kiss her until she could breathe no more.
Pansy didn’t know she was looking over Hermione’s shoulder to the trio of boys, and specifically Draco until Hermione followed her eyes, catching on far too quickly. Her eyes shifted back to Pansy, large and worrisome. “You like Draco.”
And Pansy rolled her eyes, as she usually did, but said nothing at all. The bartender dropped off both drinks, pushing them towards the girls and Hermione told her thank you appreciatively before staring right back at Pansy.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Hermione asked, leaning closer to Pansy.
“It was never supposed to be public information,” Pansy snarled, feeling bad immediately at the way Hermione pulled back from her. “It was… my business.”
Hermione surveyed her in the way that she often did, knowingly reading every facial tell she might possess. “Draco doesn’t know, either?”
Pansy shook her head softly, “I have never told him, no. Whether or not he’s taken the hints, well…”
With a slow nod, Hermione pulled her drink towarsd her mouth but eyed it before taking a sip. She winced at the taste and Pansy rose her eyebrows.
“I’ve been meaning to ask… scotch?”
But Hermione blushed, licking her lips. “Draco suggested… a few.”
”I assumed that he did. A scotch connoisseur, he is.” Pansy joked light heartedly. It was not Hermione Granger’s fault that Draco wished to pull her closer than Pansy, touch her lower back more passionately than Pansy’s, or skip their signature wink for a single one with her.
Pansy’s heart hurt, but it was not Hermione’s fault.
“I won’t… do anything.” Hermione finally said. Pansy looked up at her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. So the curly haired girl leaned forward again, glass clinking on the bartop, “With Draco, I mean. I’m not going to pursue anything with him.”
”Granger,” Pansy started slowly. She sighed, carefully planning her words before she spoke them. “You are not the first girl he’s chosen over me. This is a tale as old as time, unfortunately.”
Hermione’s eyes softened, her head tilting at Pansy. “How old is time?” She asked.
Pansy waved her hand, “Twenty years,” which made Hermione’s eyes widen in shock.
“Pans-“
”Shh,” Pansy rose her finger to quiet the girl. “My point is that if he wanted to, he would have by now. I am not what he wants, and I’ve learned that lesson over and over until it has simply become ordinary and expected rather than a lesson to learn once more.”
Hermione remained silent, her hand shifting around her cold glass as she digested Pansy’s words.
“Draco is my best friend, and has been since I can remember.” She continued sorrowfully, finally freeing herself of every emotion she’d buried so deep that not even Draco Malfoy could’ve found it. “I’ve always thought that the girl who would inevitably steal him away from me better be the brightest, most beautiful witch that ever walked through our lives.”
Hermione was listening to Pansy’s monologue soundlessly, entranced by Pansy's eyes that were likely starting to water. Wine often made her quite emotional. Which was likely the reason she enjoyed it so much.
”I would've never thought of it before, but you might be the perfect one for Draco. There is something about the two of you that seems… right. I know that sounds a little silly but all I’m trying to say is that if it’s not me… I could settle for it being you.”
And that night, Theo owed Blaise thirty galleons as Draco pulled Hermione into the hedges to snog the daylights out of her, returning with messy hair and rumpled clothing which was the final straw of the Malfoy parents - they left quick and wordlessly, heads down to avoid eye contact with anyone at all.
Unfortunately, Pansy’s heart never stopped soaring when Draco Malfoy laughed at her jokes, her breath never stopped catching in her throat in response to his dimpled smirk, and she never stopped admiring his perfectly tailored to fit suits.
But Draco Malfoy did go on to propose to Hermione Granger, after seeking approval and advice from Pansy on a ring. She helped him with a half happy smile, musing over karat weight and band color, all while feeling her heart pump sadly over and over.
Pansy even dressed Hermione in her wedding dress, knowing that they’d never once talked again about Pansy’s multi-decade long crush, nor about the way Pansy still refused to date anyone else. Draco Malfoy was happy to marry Hermione Granger and she was happy to marry him. Pansy Parkinson was happy that her very two best friends were happy, too.