Draco Lucius Malfoy (d_l_malfoy) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2017-04-05 20:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | draco malfoy, pansy parkinson |
WHO: Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson
WHERE: Pansy’s flat
WHEN: After Pansy’s encounter with Bucky
WHAT: Draco visits the ex.
RATING: PG
STATUS: log; completed
At times like this, Pansy really wished she was still living with Rin. The young devil child thing would’ve been fussing over her and feeding her and making sure she was fine. And as much as they sniped at each other, Pansy did appreciate him. It was like having a kid brother, in a way. She’d stayed with Rin for the first few days after her injury, but as she’d recovered, she’d returned to her own flat. Now she was regretting it. It’d turned out they had potions for healing broken bones after all, which helped, but Pansy was still sore - too much so to get back to drawing. Or, it seemed, doing any sort of cooking. “Bloody oven,” she muttered, attempting to pull the glass dish out of the contraption. It’d looked so easy when Rin had done it, but it was proving too heavy for her wounded arm. She would’ve used her wand to levitate it, but with her injury, her aim wasn’t as good as she would like. She might have to starve. *** Having ascertained that Pansy was alright, Draco had managed to keep his distance for a few days - mostly. He’d kept tabs on her as much as he could without being too much of a stalker. Draco was sure that Pansy would have words for it. But once he had ascertained that she had moved back to her own flat, Draco had decided it was time for him to check in on her properly. That was why he was standing outside of her door, clutching a large bouquet of mixed flowers. He knocked - hoping that she would let him in instead of slamming the door in his face. If he was lucky, he’d even manage a change to take care of her. Not that he was all that brilliant at caring for others, but he’d be happy to try for her. *** Although she wasn't expecting anyone, Pansy wasn't entirely surprised at the knock. Rin, probably, coming to check on her. Good; he could help her with the oven. When she opened the door, however, she almost gasped in shock. She hadn't seen Draco since he'd gotten completely tossed and she'd taken him home so he could pass out on bed. He'd said a lot of things that night - things she desperately wanted to believe but hadn't allowed herself to - and when he hadn't contacted her afterwards, she'd dismissed them as drunken ramblings. Now he was here. With flowers. “Why Draco,” she drawled, hiding her rush of hope behind a facade of ennui. “Don't tell me those are for me. It's like you care.” *** When she opened the door and looked mostly healthy, Draco gave a mental sigh of relief. He kept his body and face impassive - trying to hide every emotion that flooded through him at the sight of her. Draco had only vague memories of what he had blurted out to her at their last meeting. Those vague memories were enough to make him mentally shudder. They were things he shouldn’t have said out loud to Pansy and he had a sense he had said them or at least hinted at them. That was enough to keep him embarrassed enough to stay away from her. But her being hurt had changed things. He had to talk with her. Thankfully, her tone and words had allowed him to retreat behind his own facade of lies and behavior. Draco offered her the flowers with a slight bow and a seductive grin. “They are for the most beautiful Slytherin I’ve ever met,” Draco said, pure charm and charisma - as only he could be. His grey eyes softened as he looked her over. “How are you doing?” he asked, a bit of seriousness invading his tone as he met her gaze. *** Once, that charm and charisma would've turned Pansy’s knees to jelly and her brain to goo. She couldn't quite honestly claim it didn't now, but at least this time she was able to hold onto her sensibilities. “Well, I was quite unceremoniously thrown into a wall and had a dislocated shoulder and fractured collarbone, so you tell me how I'm doing,” she said sardonically. She reached out with her good arm to snag the flowers and turned to head into the kitchen, leaving the door open to him in a silent invitation. This was likely a terrible decision, but she needed someone to take that damn casserole dish out of the oven. Draco might as well make himself useful, even if he'd never really been, in the past. *** At least she took the flowers. It was a good sign as far as he was concerned. Every inch forward made a difference. And he remembered the bet and mentally smirked. Maybe more than that. Stepping into the flat, Draco closed the door after himself, leaving them alone in the space. “Did you get anything for it?” Draco inquired, knowing that Atlantis didn’t provide healing like they would have expected. He stepped closer to her, meeting her gaze and touching a hand to her face. “What can I do?” There was a bit of tenderness to his words and seduction laced the undertone. He sniffed the air and then inquired, “What smells so good?” *** “Of course not,” Pansy said with a snort. She was going to go on about how unsympathetic people were here and how hypocritical they were that any time she hexed anyone it was evil and awful, but someone else could go bugnuts insane and still receive sympathy and the best care when he touched her face, looking tender and caring and wonderful, and she stopped talking. Fortunately, he didn't stay there, and she was able to answer both his questions with one answer. “That's my chicken casserole, and you're going to help me take it out of the oven and separate it into nice, meal-sized portions. Containers are in the lower cupboards to your left.” She looked at him expectantly, fully expecting him to refuse. After all, Malfoys didn't do menial work and certainly not when ordered to. That was what house elves and lesser beings were for. *** Draco opened his mouth to give her a sound lashing - who did she think he was? Those were not the sort of things that Draco did for himself, much less for others. Those grey eyes slid from warm to cold as he considered her, his mouth closing and setting firmly. Really - there had to be some dignity. And then he remembered that she had - ever so kindly - returned him to his bed after he’d drunk himself senseless. She could have left him at any point - in the bar, in a random hallway, on the floor of his room - but she hadn’t. The least he could do was make something of an attempt at what she asked. Closing his eyes and gathering his dignity about him, Draco nodded. “Very well, but we both know I’m going to make a muck of it.” Muggle things were not his forte nor was anything domestic - beyond ordering around those who could do domestic things. Lifting his wand, Draco opened the oven and used magic to pull the pan out and set it on top of the stove. It was a wobbly process, but nothing spilled. “Okay,” he said, staring at it. “Now.. what next?” He turned to her, looking uncertain and definitely lacking in domesticity. *** Well, that was a surprise. Pansy had mostly thrown out the command to irritate him, and for a moment she thought it’d worked. But he’d actually gone and done what she’d asked. That almost never happened. And now he was waiting for more instructions. That definitely did not happen. She was going to take advantage of it while it did, however. Clueless domesticity was a good look on him, and she still needed to eat. “The containers,” she prompted. “Cupboards to your left. Divide the casserole into...oh, about eight squares and parcel them out.” *** His face showed his unwillingness to comply. Draco wasn’t interested in further domesticity. “Whatever for?” he inquired, because he didn’t rightly understand the point of it. You made food, you ate it. That was the end of it. He leaned against the counter and looked at her with puzzlement for a brief moment. “And why can’t you use magic to do these things?” Draco considered just doing what she needed, but he did like to understand why and so he stood and looked at her, eyebrow raised. *** “If I could use magic, don't you think I would've already?” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. Honestly, did he think so little of her that he'd think she had gone Muggle? She lifted her hand - or tried to. Her shoulder was still too sore and stiff for full strength and mobility. “I can't use my wand like this.” It would be imprecise, and she'd likely end up destroying her cupboards instead of taking things out of them. “And I still need to eat. I can't cook all the time. Now are you going to help or not?” *** Those cool grey eyes followed the movement of her hand and arm and he nodded with slight understanding. That at least made more sense. Draco would have expected her to use magic without thought and so he was relieved to know that she wasn’t foregoing magic. On the other hand, not using it? That was … Draco couldn’t even digest the thought. “Very well,” he said, grumpy about the whole idea. He really was not built for this. Nor was he interested in learning how to take care of such things. None of this was of interest to him. Draco’s eyes turned to Pansy as he wondered whether or not he should. His gaze considered her carefully. Was she worth the humiliation? Her long legs and pure feminine curves told him she was. And he remembered the bet again briefly and knew he wanted to win - and he wanted Pansy. Bending down, Draco opened the cupboard and pulled out the items she’d described. It was a good thing he knew his charms in and out. A wave of his wand and a spell and the casserole split carefully and into neat squares. He set the parts into containers and then turned to look at Pansy. “There,” Draco said, putting back his wand where it belonged. He clearly expected praise and lavish amounts at that. *** And Pansy delivered - though probably not in the way he expected. Once, she would have definitely lavished him with praise and felt both smug and flattered that the great Draco Malfoy had deigned to her with food proportioning. Now, she just gave him a bright smile and a small pump of her arm. “Well done!” she said, the way one would to a particularly bright child who'd overcome a new challenge. “Thank you, that was helpful. You may take one home.” *** His displeasure at her reaction was momentarily painted across his face as he considered her before he carefully schooled it away under the calm pale mask he normally wore. The lack of appreciation made him dig into her. “Since when did you learn to cook?” he asked, considering the casserole and then Pansy. “The last I was aware, you only know how to order what you wanted.” Draco leaned against the counter and looked at Pansy. “Perhaps you could explain how you learned these skills.” *** She'd had to learn those skills when she'd been poor and alone and disgraced and self-exiled into the Muggle world. But she wasn't about to admit that to him. Her circumstances - and his contribution to them - still stung. With a slow smile, Pansy leaned in. Slowly. Seductively. “It was a very, very fit French bloke. He could do such wonderful things with his hands. The way he massaged lamb shanks?” She let out a small shiver of pleasure. “Naturally, he was a very good teacher.” *** Jealousy sped across Draco’s features. What he couldn’t decide was whether or not she was telling the truth. Something about it didn’t quite ring true, but that didn’t meant there weren’t grains of truth in it. Again any emotion was buried under the cool exterior he wore to protect the deep sensitive part of him he guarded carefully. As she leaned in, Draco’s hands reached out and snagged her about the waist and tugged her into his arms. “Perhaps I can remind you about all the things I taught you,” Draco whispered, leaning into her so that they were molded against one another. “Consider it repayment for being so concerned for you.” *** For a moment Pansy allowed herself to lean against him. It felt so right, being with him and being held by him. She'd missed this. No one had ever made her the way he had. But she didn't let herself indulge for long. He was still the same self-centered bastard who'd dumped her, and they still had a wager. “If I'd known there was a price, I would've demanded you to do more,” she said, pulling away. “Next time you should set your terms in advance, in case someone takes advantage of you.” *** Unconcerned now that he had felt her interest and knew that no matter what she said, she preferred to be with him, Draco let her step away. His amusement shown in his gray eyes and a bit of humor curved up his lips slightly. He was getting somewhere. “Ah, beautiful,” Draco purred, still leaning against the counter, now more comfortable and unwilling to immediately leave as he had been before. The seductive tone colored his words and showed on his face. “You’ve always know what my price is. And most of the time, you’ve been willing to pay. And I am sure you’ll pay again.” Dropping the tone, Draco asked, “But truly, Pans, how are you?” *** Annoyed at herself for letting her desire be so transparent, Pansy narrowed her eyes. “Not a chance,” she told him. “Vat. Skrewt. Remember?” She moved past him deliberately and started to put the containers away, one painstaking container at a time. “Well, aside from not being able to draw or paint or you know, use magic, i'm just fine.” *** “You’re not going to win that easily,” Draco commented. He was bloody determined not to let her win - partly because he didn’t like losing, but a good portion of it was because he desperately wanted her - as he always had. Letting her start, Draco moved and helped her to finish. As per their usual interactions, everything ended up being a battle of wills until they faced a common opponent. “Tell me what happened,” he asked. *** “Some bloody arse with a machine for an arm went mad, stole the magnetite notebook I put so much work into building a vault for, and when I tried to alert the authorities he smashed my phone on the floor and me against a wall.” She spoke without inflection, which was different. Old Pansy would have cried and rent her hair and been overly dramatic to get maximum attention and sympathy, but New Pansy had been through too much shit to put in that much work. She'd been through much, much worse after Draco had left her. *** While Draco wasn’t smart, he was intelligent. He knew the difference between Pansy before and the Pansy that stood before him. Draco had expected the whinging, clinging explanation and demand that he do something about it. That she didn’t surprised him and actually spiraled a combination of disappointment and excitement in him. Draco liked having the ability to solve her problems - missed it actually, but he appreciated her strength. “Did they give you an estimation for when you’ll be fully healed?” he inquired. *** Now the sulkiness slipped in. This was really very inconvenient for her. “A few more days. I have a checkup at the hospital tomorrow.” Torture chamber, more like it, where she was poked and prodded with all sorts of Muggle instruments. *** “They don’t have proper magic for such things?” Draco asked, aghast. It was inappropriate to not be able to heal things as was expected. “This place…” Draco shook his head. Of course, Draco wanted to heal things, but he wasn’t stupid. Healing was not something that should be done without training. “Should I stay and help you?” he asked, “or do you want me to go with you to the appointment?” *** “Well they did manage to find some healing potions,” Pansy allowed. It made her suffering sound much less dramatic that way, though. She was distracted from said suffering, however, by his offer. The Draco she knew would have never extended that offer. Either he’d changed too, in the time they’d been apart, or there was some other reason behind it. Knowing Draco, it was more likely to be the latter. “You’re taking your attempts to win our wager rather far, aren’t you?” *** Draco had actually meant the offer, but her last question made him raise an eyebrow. “I have offered merely because as Slytherins and friends, we should be sticking together - that was as deep as any ulterior motive has gone. Nothing else.” Draco spread his hands as he considered Pansy. “Do you honestly think I cannot be motivated by things other than besting you?” *** Pansy’s response was a small, bittersweet smile. “Let's face it, darling. You never were the nurturing sort, even when we were together. Why would you offer now, if not to best me?” She wasn't saying it to be cruel; it was the truth as far as she was concerned. Their relationship wasn't an equal one of give and take, of comfort and caring from both sides. She'd given him everything she had, and she'd only realized too late that he hadn't reciprocated. *** For a moment, Draco considered refuting the statement, but then realised that would be worse than simply agreeing. Both versions were rather damning when considered. “I merely inquired,” Draco said with a shrug, attempting to brush off her statement. “I am aware of my past, as much as I am aware that my being solicitous does not seem in character.” Draco pushed himself off the counter and strode across so he was close to her. “But regardless of your uncertainty about my motives, I do honestly wish to assist. No ulterior motive.” Those long fingers stroked down her face. “I do care about you beautiful.” Cupping her cheek, Draco met her gaze, projecting as much sincerity as possible. *** Pansy fought very, very hard not to give in to the desire to simply let herself lean into his hand and take the comfort he was offering. Regardless of how solicitous he was being now, she couldn't forget how hard it's been to get herself back on her feet after her family's disgrace. She wasn't going to let herself rely like that on anyone ever again. She took a step back - or tried to. The counter was at her back, preventing her from moving back anymore. So she did he next best thing: she put her palm on his chest and pushed him back a step. “Not that I'm unappreciative of the offer, but what's changed? Why are you offering now?” *** “Because I did the wrong thing,” Draco said. It was distasteful to admit, but if it would further his chances with Pansy and their relationship, then Draco was willing to take the step forward. “I shouldn’t have turned my back on you…” Draco stopped and considered her for a moment before stepping backwards and giving her space, giving himself some space. Those grey eyes looked at her for long moments, letting the silence hang between them. “Believe me or not, but I made the wrong choice.” *** He’d finally done it: he’d made her speechless. Draco Malfoy simply did not admit to being wrong - at least the Draco Malfoy she knew. It was clear it was reluctantly said, but the point was, he’d said it. That was more than he’d ever done in the past. Could it be that he’d changed as well? That he’d meant at least part of what he’d said while drunk, and away from the influence of his parents, he was finally saying things he really meant? “Well,” she finally managed. “This is a start.” She indicated the containers he’d just filled up for her. “Take out a portion for yourself. You can join me for lunch.” *** There was little for Draco to say. He had laid something out - it was now up to Pansy to decide whether or not he meant it. She would understand or not. And she would come back to him - or not. Time was now what he needed to offer to her. “I will look forward to it,” Draco commented, reaching out and taking a container. He gave her a pointed look. “Til then Pansy.” And then his permanent smirk appeared on his features. “And, be sure to dream of me.” Without another word, he left, turning on his heel and closing the door behind himself. Now - that went much better than expected. *** |