Fic: Surrender, in its Place

[birdsofshore]

Title: Surrender, in its Place
Words: 599
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Author's Note: Written for sortinghatdrabs prompt #160: Pansy and any Gryffindor
This is my second attempt at writing a drabble, and I enjoyed working on it. I did not quite know myself what Pansy was up to until the end, though I find her character very intriguing and would like to write more about her one day. The quote (and title) was something I found afterwards, but I was delighted at how well it seemed to capture what I was trying to express about Pansy and her motivations, both during the war, and during the scene in this story. 


Surrender, in its Place

"At fifteen life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice." - Maya Angelou

Pansy sighed, and her breath misted the window in front of her, obscuring the view of the Quidditch pitch below. Harry leant forward impatiently and rubbed a patch clear with his sleeve.

"Are you sure, Parkinson? I mean, honestly?"

"Of course I'm sure. Who else knows him as well as I? Who's heard all his grubby little secrets, since we were brats, in knee socks and short robes?"

"But– he has actually mentioned me, has he? You're positive?"

"As if I hear talk of much else," murmured Pansy. "Yes, Potter, I'm quite positive."

"And– he's definitely– I mean, he likes blokes?"

"Gracious, they said you were slow on the uptake, but I never dreamt it would be this hard. Yes, dear Potter, Draco is one hundred per cent bent. He's been pursuing the contents of other people's trousers since 1994."

Harry's breath came harder as he bent to look out again, his eyes fixed on the slender, agile figure who was currently owning the sky with his broomstick.

"Christ," Harry said, as if forgetting Pansy was standing there. "I've dreamed... but I never thought...."

Pansy's expression remained beautifully blank as she watched Draco make a sudden turn, maneouvring his broom against the wind, his hair blowing around his face in a flutter of gold. She turned her attention to her perfect pink and white nails, as if bored. "Dear me, you Gryffindors do take an age to get going, don't you? I thought you were meant to be full of vim and vigour. The practice is nearly over. He'll be coming off the pitch all sweaty and... fired up soon. And here you stand, letting the grass grow under your feet."

Harry seemed to gain momentum suddenly. He glanced once more at the game in progress. Draco's broom swooped, then gained height again, his face rapt with concentration. Harry swallowed hard.

"Right. Thanks, Parkinson." He darted impulsively towards the door, then paused abruptly. "Why– why did you tell me this, now? We've never exactly been... good friends, you and me."

Pansy lifted one shoulder elegantly. "I just want him to be happy, of course. It's not like I could care less about you, Boy Wonder." Her lips formed a smile, but her eyes remained cold. Harry seemed unsure whether to take this as a joke. After a moment, he shrugged and ran off again.

Pansy's face was as smooth and expressionless as the pane of glass before her. She rested her forehead against its cool expanse for a minute, closing her eyes to shut out the sight of the game.

A wild cheering broke out on the other side of the window and Pansy's eyes opened to see Draco's exhilarated face among a tangle of players, his team mates flying to congratulate him as he held the Snitch high. She spotted Harry's mop of black hair, bobbing along to join the faces in the crowd.

"I never did say sorry for offering to hand you over to Voldemort, Potter. Not a situation commonly dealt with in the etiquette books. "Please accept my sincerest apologies for trying to let the Dark Lord murder you."" She smiled to herself. "There's no protocol for that."

"Perhaps this will do, as an apology. Voldemort's gone. Instead, I'll surrender Draco... to you."

Draco was flushed and laughing, sitting back on his broom in mid air. Harry gazed at him, as if looking at something holy.

"If I can't have him, you might as well, Potter. I know you'll take care of him." Pansy rubbed one finger almost tenderly along the glass, before turning away.