Greg & Pansy Who: Pansy & Greg Where: Greg's house When: Monday afternoon What: Pansy's over the initial rage, now she's just sad. Which makes her angry. So maybe she's not over the rage yet. Rating: PG probably Complete
Pansy had spent the whole of yesterday in her room at Greg's house, not even coming out for meals and refusing to talk to anyone, even her House Elf. The champagne (and whatever horrid concoction Finnigan had fed her) had left her with the worst headache of her life, and the image of Draco and Potter in the garden had made her stomach queasy. She vaguely remembered some sort of embarrassing display in the journals, but hadn't dared look since yesterday afternoon. Out of sight, out of mind. Pansy was very good at ignoring unpleasant things. She'd had a lot of practical experience in that regard.
If only it were as easy as that. She couldn't erase the way Draco had so tenderly kissed Potter, like it was something precious from her mind. What she'd seen hadn't been hate-fueled passion, no it had been something more. She was pragmatic enough to realize that. Her own brief foray into madness with Finnigan--something else she was not going to examine, ever-- had been nothing like the display between Draco and Potter. It should disgust her, that Draco would rather be with Potter than with her, but mostly she just felt sad. Which made her feel vulnerable, which in turn made her angry. She liked being angry; it was far less scary than either of the other two emotions. She could handle anger, she knew what to do with anger.
How dare Draco do this to her. After all she'd sacrificed for him; after everything she'd been through last year, she didn't deserve to be thrown over for Potter of all people, and without so much as an explanation. In the back of her mind, a small voice pointed out that she'd never actually shared her expectations with Draco, nor had they officially declared intentions, but it was easy to ignore. She shouldn't have had to explain anything to Draco; their future had been planned since before they'd officially met. Hadn't it?
There was a quiet knock on her door, and she knew it would be Greg. He'd knocked several times over the past thirty-six hours, but until now she hadn't wanted to face him. He would just be his sweet, clueless self and he didn't deserve to be faced with the mood Pansy was in. She'd have said something unforgivable to him, and even in her rage against Draco she didn't want to hurt Greg. He'd have been nothing but a stopgap to her real target. Now, with an owl off to Witch Weekly and a whole day of sulking in her room, she felt she could face him enough to ease his worry.
She waved her wand at the door, removing the charms she'd set to keep everyone out. "Come in," she called out, not moving from her place on the window seat. If it had been anyone else but Greg, or perhaps Gertie, she would have changed into something more appropriate and put on some make-up, but Greg was one of the few people she felt comfortable enough with to wear something so casual around.