His spirits soared, his heart thrummed like a hummingbird's heart, his mind whirled like he was on a spinning ride at a carnival. He started over, shaky at first, but gaining assurance from her elated expression:
"Pansy Priscillinette Parkinson, I love you. Will you marry me?"
She looked like she was fighting down tears. In all the time he'd known her, she'd never cried. "Yes," she whispered so quietly that to anyone else it would have been incomprehensible, but to him, she'd screamed it at the top of her lungs.
He said not a word, but took the ring from the box. It was a simple silver band, with an emerald sitting at the top, a genuine emerald - with a green flame trapped inside, forever dancing, twirling in the gemstone, shining, preserved for eternity. She held out her finger without hesitation, and there the ring slid and took residence; where it would stay for as long as the fire lasted. But, of course, that was a story in and of itself...
How was that not happy enough?
It was as if whenever he was with Hermione, this memories subsided, as if there was room in his head, in his heart, for anyone but Pansy. How ridiculous! Hermione... erm, Granger, was a Muggle-born - erm, Mudblood. Mudblood!
Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood!
No. Muggle-born. He couldn't fit such an offensive term to someone so unworthy of it.
But he supposed there was nobody to tell him not to go for it.
What was he thinking?
Sure, they could be friends, if he had to, but being stuck with her for longer than necessary would never, he repeated, NEVER lead to anything but that friendship, if it even got that far. They'd maintain the acquaintance-rivalry sort of thing they'd had the whole year, or they'd go back to being enemies. It was up to her. He could try and rub along with Potter, and Weasley, and Weaslette really wasn't that hard to be friends with, she was very... bright, but not in the intelligent sense of the word, not that she was dumb. Very bold, that was the word. Weaslette was bold.
Longbottom and Lovegood would be more difficult, but he supposed he'd asked Theo and Liccy about them.
Liccy.
"Liccy!" Pansy exclaimed, jumping to her feet and thrusting her left hand in Millicent's face. She beamed happily, Theodore, standing behind the other confused Slytherin, looked bewildered. But Millicent soon saw the gem-encrusted flame and squealed.
"Pansy, dear Merlin, you're getting married?!" Her head swivelled from Pansy to Draco, and then repeated the sight three times, looking so comical Draco laughed.
"White dress, black suit, the whole thing?" Theodore asked, looking and sounding as if he'd never heard of such a silly thing as matrimony. Draco nodded.
Millicent squealed again, so loudly it hurt his ears, and embraced his fiance with such enthusiasm he had to laugh again. Pulling out of the hug, Pansy looked toward him, her whiskey eyes reflecting the ring's flame...
Draco sighed. It would not do to dwell on memories. How long would he stand in this hallway, remembering things nobody needed to? He egan walking.
Another memory hit him with such force he doubled over.
"No, stop, stop!"
Voldemort's cruel laughter was all Draco could hear besides the cries for Draco to save her, save her. His chest wrung itself out, but hands held him back. Tears streaked his dirty face, but he couldn't reach her.
YOU ARE READING
I Learned Your Pulse
FanfictionHogwarts is a welcoming place when you've never seen it littered with corpses; when you've never seen the lights fading from a person's eyes, when you've never heard the screams that echoed through the air. Of course, very few of the people there ha...
"She saved my life by doing it."
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