Pansy Wisteria Parkinson (pugmylife) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2017-03-18 19:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | *aurora, *rhina, draco malfoy, pansy parkinson |
WHO: Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson
WHERE: Random bar
WHEN: Thursday Evening, March 16
WHAT: Draco reads the HP Series and proceeds to get drunk and confesses things to Pansy
RATING: PG-13 for language and drunk!Malfoy
STATUS: log; completed
Fixing the intake had taken longer than Draco had reckoned. Mostly because of the arguments among the others. Few seemed to realize that he did know what he was talking about when it came to the intake. He did understand the puzzle that it represented and solving puzzles was a speciality. They all kept focusing on the technology and missing out the magical aspect and it was literally driving Draco up a while. Whilst he understood how important the technology was, that they dismissed what he considered important was beyond aggravating. Hopefully they would listen soon or they’d be stuck staring at what should be a functioning object based on their calculations, but remained missing a critical component - his. Frustrated by what he couldn’t currently fix, Draco had turned to the mention of the books from Pansy. The fiction section would not have been, and had not been, his first choice of place to explore in the library. He’d been enjoying reading through some of the magical tomes and had taught himself a few new things that he would not have had a chance to learn beforehand. So he traveled into the land of fiction, finding the novels Pansy mentioned. By dedicating a few solid hours, Draco was able to plow through the first novel in short order. At the end of the book, the librarian had to forcefully remove the book from Draco and Draco from the library. He was livid at best and murderous at worst. Finding his phone, he immediately sent a message to Pansy, informing her of how he had spent his afternoon and letting her know where he would be drowning his anger. Entering the bar, Draco made a beeline for the bartender and immediately ordered a double whiskey. He’d downed it before it had even touched the top of the bar and ordered another. *** Despite her overwhelming curiosity, Pansy hadn’t yet looked for the books Kara had mentioned - mostly because she knew she’d be upset by them, and she’d made herself a promise that she wasn’t going to let Potter and his ilk upset her anymore. When Draco sent her his furious text, she was glad of her decision: obviously the books were as bad - or even worse - than she’d feared. At least he was the one who’d experienced them, and not her. By the time she reached the bar where he was waiting, there were three empty shot glasses lined up in front of him, and he was downing another. “Was it really that terrible?” she asked as she slid onto the stool next to his. *** Setting down the empty glass, Draco gestured again at the bartender, indicating another round and that he should get whatever Pansy wanted as well. The bartender looked at Draco for a long second, as if gauging whether or not Draco should have any more before accepting the glare with a shrug and turning to Pansy. “They were worse than terrible,” Draco snarled out. “I don’t think there is a word for how awful it was and I only read one of them.” He turned and looked at Pansy. “We can toast to being painted as the evil villains in Potter’s story. Fucking arsehole.” Draco eagerly looked for the bartender for his next drink. *** Pansy took her drink and let him have his. Draco was well on his way to being sloshed, but there was some part of her that still remembered just how much he could handle before he passed out. They'd shared so much, the two of them, despite how things had soured after that. Pansy night swear she wanted nothing more to do with him, but so many years of love and companionship couldn't be simply forgotten. “It's expected that any story that stars him would paint us as heartless villains,” she said, lifting her glass to him in a toast. “I imagine anyone who didn't feel sorry for the poor little orphan and went out of their way to make him feel good would be the same.” *** “It is always about Potter, poor wee little boy and how horrid everyone and everything is to him and gosh, did you know Mr. Large Arsehole himself was out to get him?” Draco asked, sarcasm dripping from every word. “The poor wee thing had no idea how to defend himself and we all must protect him and feel sorry for him.” Draco shook his head, glad that the alcohol was beginning to take affect, warming his blood and burning off the anger that raged inside of him. This drink he took more slowly - past his initial need to be blinding drunk as quick as possible. He was still planning on getting completely shit-faced, but he was willing to savour it now. “I need to have the whole thing erased from my mind,” Draco commented, staring at the drink. “If only he was here just so I could hex him - that would be satisfying.” *** “You'd only get piled on by his fans,” Pansy pointed out. “Calling you a bully and a churl. There's no justice in this world.” She finished her drink quickly, expertly. It was a change since the last time they'd drank together: Pansy used to be a sipper, nursing her drink over an entire meal, but now she knocked back her drink with ease. “With Spinnet and Bell and the rest of the Potter Squad here, they'd rally everyone else against us. What I wouldn't give for a few good Slytherins.” *** “Then they could share in being hexed,” Draco commented with a very bad temper, finishing the drink. “Fuck them all. They think they know everything. No regard for rules and behaving as a proper wizard should.” His anger was still right there and he quickly finished off the drink that he had in his hand, thumping it down on the bar top. “What we really need to do is find the author and provide her with some rather pointed information on the reality of the wizarding world.” That the author probably wouldn’t live through the experience was clearly implied. Leaning against the bar, Draco looked at Pansy. “Did you actually read any of them?” he inquired, wanting to hear her opinion on the matter. The alcohol was starting to flood his brain a bit further. The warmth had settled through his veins and he could feel himself disconnecting from the clean neat thought process he generally embraced. *** “No, I decided a long time ago not to let Potter ruin my life anymore,” she said. Of course, she'd also decided she wasn't going to care about Draco Malfoy anymore, yet here she was. Although she'd finished her drink, she didn't signal the bartender for more. Draco had stopped drinking now, and she wanted him to stay that way. He wasn't in danger of passing out now, but he was close. “You're not going to make any ground in convincing anyone it's all a pack of lies anyway. People are going to believe what they want.” *** “And is only because Potter told the story,” Draco immediately countered. “If you had told the story of those seven years or I had… it would look and feel entirely different. Hell, I’d even settle for a random Huffle telling the story versus Potter. The stupid shit doesn’t deserve to be as special as they all made him out to be.” Draco looked at the empty glasses and wondered if another one would be amiss. He knew that he was on the edge of being completely and utterly pissed. It seemed like it would be better to reach that level of unconscious. He then realised what Pansy had said. She was willing to not let Potter bug her any more. Draco envied that. And he was drunk enough to mutter it out loud. “You were always better at ignoring crap and letting shit go,” Draco commented and then added, “But I suppose that is just proof that you were more mature than I was. I need another drink to get that far over Potter.” Which meant he gestured at the bartender for another round, indicating one for Pansy as well. *** When the bartender brought it over, however, Pansy intercepted Draco’s drink and moved it out of his reach. “I think you're far gone enough,” she said briskly. “Remember you have to be conscious enough to pay for my drinks.” Her lips curved up into a smile that was somewhere between teasing and smug. A compliment from Draco Malfoy was as rare as dragons’ teeth. “You can settle down and tell me again how much more mature I am than you.” *** Clearly she was more mature because Draco immediately pouted because he didn’t get his drink. It showed with the lower lip sticking out and the eyes that begged that turned on Pansy. “Ah, come on Pans, I deserve that drink. I had to read that filthy book,” Draco whinged, reaching for the drink. Pansy’s stubborn set face would told him that he wasn’t going to win her over and earn the drink back - not at this point. Perhaps… Draco turned his body so that he was facing Pansy more fully. “Well fine then. You’ve always had the strength I didn’t. Always knew you could stand on your own feet. I knew,” Draco looked longingly at the drink, wondering if he offered more she’d give it to him, “that you didn’t really need me and that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me without my money.” His grey eyes looked at her, begging. “Can I have the drink now?” *** But Pansy was too busy staring at him at disbelief to hand it over. “What the blithering hell are you talking about?” she demanded. “Didn’t want anything to do with you without your money?” She let out a derisive snort. “I was the one without money and you were the one who wanted nothing to do with me, you twat.” And just for that, she downed his drink. Take that, Draco Malfoy, breaker of hearts and revisionist of history. *** Again, the pout graced Draco’s features, turning down his lips. That was his drink. He needed it since he’d read that awful book. Draco knew he’d never be able to rid himself of the memories of the text - not without a lot more alcohol. So he really deserved the drink and Pansy had had it. So unfair. Just like his parents and their stupid ultimatimatum. “I’m not a twat,” Draco refuted, gesturing at the bartender. He was going to get that next drink. “And I’m telling the truth! Mother and Father laid down this stupid ultimatum - either you are or the money. I could have you or the fortune and Malfoy name. And we both know you would want nothing to do with me without my money or my name. You’re not really interested in me without either. Your attitude here proves that.” This time the bartender brought the drink and Draco was quick enough to grab it before Pansy did and his triumph made him smirk at her. *** Pansy was too busy gaping at him to respond to his taunt. “They were going to cut you off?” It was hard to believe. Mrs Malfoy, in particular, adored her boy. “And you chose because you didn't think I'd want you? Draco, what in Merlin’s name made you think that for even a second?” She'd adored him too, perhaps - definitely - to the point of unhealthiness, where his wishes and desires superseded her own. She'd done everything for him. And yet he thought she wouldn't want him if he didn't have money? *** “They decided I shouldn’t have a single knut. All because I loved you and wanted to be with you than whomever they deemed,” Draco put down his drink to make exaggerated air quotes, “appropriate. So no fortune, no house, no name until I bowed to their wishes. All because I’d rather be with you.” His hands picked his drink back up and slammed it down. Letting go of the glass, he raised a hand and rubbed it across his chest where his heart was. It had been devastating - giving up his love because it had been better for her. “I couldn’t give you anything Pansy. You deserved better and more than that,” Draco looked down, sadness gracing his face, “and I didn’t think you loved me as me - just me as Malfoy.” He gave a pretend careless shrug. “I don’t blame you. I’m not worth much without my name and fortune.” He definitely needed another drink. Draco looked around, wondering if he could catch the bartender’s attention again. *** Pansy didn't stop him. She was just sitting there, stunned, by this revelation. All this time, she'd thought Draco had willingly walked away from her because he didn't think she was good enough for him anymore. Was it true that all this time, he'd thought the same of her? “Well, that's just a load of shite,” she said, standing abruptly. “And that's quite enough.” That bit was spoken to the bartender before she shooed him away. Then she turned back to Draco. “If you thought I only loved you for your name, you really didn't know me at all. And you're completely sloshed, so you're going to go home before I have to levitate you.” *** “Come on,” Draco whined, looking up at Pansy. “I just want one more. Then Potter’s story won’t be ruining every thought that I have. You don’t have to like me, just let me have another drink.” Her words sort of penetrated the fog around his brain, but that didn’t change the fact that he wanted another drink. “But what if I don’t want to go home? I’m not that drunk,” Draco commented and then connected what she said to his thought process and it immediately spilled right out of his mouth. “I always loved you. You were always better than me. I never thought I you could love me at all. You liked me and all - that was obvious - but to love me enough without my name? No one would consider loving me that much. No one.” Draco looked mournful. “Are you sure I can’t have one more drink?” *** “Oh yes,” Pansy said determinedly as she stepped forward to try to haul him out of his seat. “You're absolutely talking gibberish here. Better than you? Pfft. You took every opportunity to tell me how lucky I was to have you. C’mon, up you go.” Merlin, he was heavy. And he was still lean and rangy, which meant the extra weight was muscle. When had he gotten that? *** “‘Course I did,” Draco immediately responded, suddenly standing and supporting his own weight - briefly before leaning against her. Again he managed to remember how he was supposed to behave as a Malfoy - he wasn’t that drunk - and stood up straight without leaning on Pansy. He swayed slightly, but remained upright. Why was the room so warm all of the sudden? Reaching up, he managed to fumble open the buttons at the top collar of his shirt, opening the tailored item part way down. Much better. “Of course I told you that. Figured if I said it enough, I might actually even believe it. But then, Malfoys aren’t supposed to be honest about how we feel or how much we like someone. Supposed to be superior because we are. Well, except for you. Always worked hard at behaving better.” Draco leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. He then added in a voice that attempted a stage whisper, but was far too loud to manage any such thing, “But don’t tell anyone I said that. You never heard me say that.” His grey eyes bored into hers. Then again his drunkness made him blunt, “You’re so beautiful Pansy. I miss you so much.” His hands grabbed her hips as he worked to stay somewhat upright - his weight pushing on to Pansy. *** …and now he was unbuttoning his shirt. All of a sudden, Draco wasn't the only one who was hot in here. Thankfully, he stopped before treating everyone in this place to a strip tease. Pansy’s head was still spinning though. He was saying things that completely upended what she'd thought about him, about them. He hadn't thought he was better? He'd actually admired her? How much of this was drunken ramblings and how much of it was truth? She was shaken from her thoughts when he stumbled and hung onto her. Unprepared for his weight, she stumbled, and she automatically threw her arms around him for support. For a moment they just stood there, forehead to forehead, wrapped around each other. Pansy’s heart was hammering in her chest. She didn't want to let go. She wanted to tear herself away and run. She wanted to shout at him for being so stupid as to think she wouldn't want him without his money. What she ended up doing was swallowing hard and gathering her poise and pulling away. “I’m not having this conversation with you when you’re like this,” she said firmly. “When you say all this, I want you to be sober and cogent. Or don’t say it at all. Come on then, pay the bartender and I’ll make sure you get back to your flat.” *** Pansy pulled away and Draco wobbled on his feet before regaining his equilibrium. For a brief moment he looked and sounded stone cold sober as he said, “I meant it all. Some day I’ll find the courage to say it sober and hope you won’t hex me for being a sentimental fool.” And then he ruined what appeared to be a sober moment as he swayed slightly as he attempted to get out his money from his pocket. It took three tries, but he managed to pay the bartender who merely watched with amusement. Having managed to pay the correct amount, Draco stood and looked at Pansy. “Are you sure we can’t have another drink? I really could do with one more.” One look at Pansy’s face told Draco the answer to that question. “Fine,” Draco pouted, arms crossing over his chest. Then he brightened. “Let’s go back to your place instead.” He leered at her. “We can relive old times.” *** “Not a chance,” retorted Pansy, who wasn’t nearly drunk enough for that. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, or that she didn’t think it would be good - even with a drunk Draco. Quite the opposite, actually. But she had more self-respect than to fall into bed with her ex just because he was drunk enough to ask her to, especially when the terms of their wager still applied. “You’re going home and sleeping this off, or I’m going to hex you and leave you on the floor. The very dirty, grimy floor upon which who knows what has been spilled.” *** Despite being sloshed, Draco was cognizant enough to know he didn’t want to be hexed by Pansy. To heck with the being on the floor, being hexed by Pansy fucking hurt. “Yes ma’am,” Draco answered with something of a mock salute, wavering slightly on his feet. “Sleep it off.” Slowly and with rather exaggerated movements, Draco began to head for the door and his flat. He staggered ever so slowly, but it was forward progress nonetheless - needing only some sharp verbal corrections from Pansy before he arrived at his place. His legs immediately gave way upon entering the room, leaving him on the floor right inside the door. *** “Oh, you are going to hate yourself in the morning,” Pansy murmured, but there was no response from him. He was out. With a sigh, she pulled out her wand and levitated him to his room and into bed. He could change his own clothes when he woke up. |