A/N: This is an entry by epiphany212 of Gryffindor House for the Illustration for Inspiration Challenge of Summer 2012. The illustration which inspired this story is here: http://i39.tinypic.com/n39o3r.jpg, with the accompanying caption, "Pansy and Theo look into the mirror and don't recognize the people reflected back."

---

Prologue

She could see his tiny figure in the distance through the Gothic windows of Malfoy Manor's drawing room, and her breath caught in her chest.

"Pansy, your tea is growing cold," Narcissa commented, glancing at the young girl who sat on the armchair before her. "Pansy? Pansy!" she snapped.

Pansy jerked her head back towards her mother-in-law. -To-be, her mind supplied helpfully. Oh shush, it's practically set in stone, anyway. "I'm sorry, Lady Malfoy, I'm suddenly not hungry at all," she said breathlessly.

"Mmm," murmured Narcissa noncommittally. "I'm sure that's the case. Perhaps a walk in the summer heat might whet your appetite?" she asked pointedly.

"Oh yes, I'm sure that will do the trick," Pansy said hurriedly, ignoring the all-too-knowing look in Narcissa's eyes. She rose from her seat and curtsied before walking as quickly as she dared toward the Manor's West Entrance.

She fought her way through the high grass, thankfully for this summer's fashions of slim-fitting, light gowns. Moving through this field last season would have been nearly impossible... though Draco had enjoyed the sight of her in petticoats. Keeping his hands in places where they belonged had been a challenge, she recalled, smiling with satisfaction at the memories.

"Draco!" she called when she felt she was close enough. His head turned when he saw her, and his lips curved into a smile. He missed me! Draco prided himself on maintaining a countenance similar to his father's, which usually revealed nothing of his attachments. Pansy's heart soared in recognition of this gesture.

"Pansy," he murmured, hands outstretched toward hers. They clasped forearms, knowing that further contact in the open view of the Manor would be imprudent. He pulled her under the shadows of the tree and pressed his lips to her forehead for a kiss, more fleeting than the breeze on this still, summer day. She treasured the cold wetness the gesture left behind as he swung her up to sit in the tree's lower limbs, standing below her and playfully grabbing her ankles, swinging her lower legs back and forth as he rocked on his heels.

She had missed this side of her fiancé--a remnant of his childhood years, the playful mischievous boy he used to be before the War. But she worried that his efforts to imitate his father's cold reserve might accomplish what the horrors of the past two years had not. As of yet, he was constitutionally incapable of being Lucius Malfoy, possessing neither a killer's heart nor the ability to separate himself completely from his emotions. He remained unaware of his greatest strength--in moments like these, the curve of a radiant smile gracing his lips, looking the anti-thesis of Lucius Malfoy, he could convince anyone of anything.

She leaned back, tilting her face to bask in the play of shadow and light cast by the sunlight glimmering through the oak's branches. Someday, she would share the truth with him. When we're married. She masked her smile with a pout, burying the thought before the deepest hope of her heart could be painted across her face for the world to see.

"It's been so long since I've seen you. My father has been frantically rearranging our assets, transferring things overseas. The Americans are so nouveau riche, you know, but I suppose it's better than losing everything."

Draco nodded. "Our assets couldn't be liquidated quickly enough. Father says it'll take at least a few years to unfreeze our Gringotts accounts, and he's not sure how much we'll lose in the process." Draco's brow was furrowed, his mouth falling back into the moue of distaste that had been his semi-permanent expression for the past two years.

She reached down to thread her fingers through his. "Even if the Ministry takes half of your family's gold, Draco, you'll still have more than enough to rebuild," she reassured him. "And besides, they say Potter's at the heart of the efforts of the Reconstruction and Reconciliation Committee, and you know how soft-hearted he can be."

"Let's not discuss Potter during the first time I've seen you in months," snapped Draco.

She rolled her eyes. Boys will be boys, it seemed. Draco was even touchier than ever about Potter since he became responsible for saving Draco's life during the Battle of Hogwarts. "If you made your peace with him publicly, you might even soften the Ministry's hand in the release of your estate."

"If Harry Potter thinks that sparing my life will cause me to kiss his hand and beg for mercy, he'll be sorely disappointed. No matter the state of my family's financial affairs, I'm still a Malfoy," Draco proclaimed haughtily.

Pansy bit her lip. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, it seems. And it was bitter soil indeed which had brought Lucius Malfoy to the point where he had no properties to his name. But she didn't speak those thoughts aloud; she was no fool-- Draco loved no one more than his father, not even her. "We didn't survive the War to talk endlessly about depressing things," she deflected smoothly. "Has your mother said anything to you about our wedding? She was frustratingly circumspect with me over our afternoon tea... even more so than usual," she added pertly.

Draco released her ankles, stepping back towards the trunk of the tree and leaning back against it, arms crossed over his chest. "Pans--"

"Alright," she conceded lightly, "I know I shouldn't say such things, she's your mother after all, but I'm just anxious to have what I've waited for the past six years!" She smiled at him softly.

"Pansy," Draco said, his voice lowered. "I have something to tell you." He looked back at the Manor, not meeting her eyes for the first time since their conversation started. "I don't know how to say this," he said softly. "My family, my father, he--"

Pansy shivered at his gentle tone. Draco had never tried to protect her from the politicking of their House. Instead, he had willing accepted her aid, had relied upon her, and she loved him for that, for knowing her strength and using it to their mutual advantage. But... He kissed me on the forehead today, as if I would shatter at his touch. Dread filled the pit of her stomach.

"He what, Draco?" she hissed.

"He's calling it off!" The words burst from Draco's lips as though someone had punched him below the ribs.

Pansy felt the world spin. She sat, lips numb, limbs trembling, stunned into silence. Why? She wanted to scream, wail, grab onto Draco, hit him... she barely moved an eyelash. Don't be such a little girl, Parkinson. It's clear what's happening; Lucius has got nothing except the family name and centuries of inbred blood as his estate now--Draco is his best bargaining tool.

"Pans, don't be cross," Draco pleaded. "Come on, we always used to joke about how you'd run me out of house and fortune someday with your demands to be coated in diamonds. I won't be able to give that to you now; you'd be better off with someone else."

"And so would you!" she spat, angrily blinking tears out of her eyes. Her restraint had evaporated. "Isn't that what precious Daddy wants, Draco? Marry for money so the Ministry has no hold over you... Nothing's more important than Malfoy pride!"

Draco raised his chin defiantly. "Don't be petty, Parkinson. I owe this to my family."

"Oh, you silly little boy," she admonished him bitterly. "Lucius just tells you that to control you and tells the rest of the world to grant himself some semblance of honor, so that people trust a cut-throat killer a hair more than they would have otherwise. Didn't the War teach you anything?"

Draco looked angry enough to strike her, and Pansy was glad for the protection of her perch. "The War taught me that no one besides my family would be standing beside me at the end," he snapped. "That all allegiances--House, friendship, the Mark--could be broken, except for blood."

"So you shouldn't let someone take your name just because they're willing to pay the admission price." Pansy said heatedly. Her voice gentled. "You're going to marry for money, Draco," she observed sadly, her anger fading as she dwelled on their changed situation. She had thought their betrothal would protect them from this fate. "You're not going to marry someone who knows you, who understands you. You'll get Galleons in Gringotts instead."

"And exactly what was happening when your father signed that contract, Pansy? Do you think he was as enamored with my good features as you are?" he snapped sarcastically.

Pansy recoiled as his words hit their mark before springing off the branch to land in front of Draco. She shoved him in the chest, hard, spitting, "My father may have planned to make a fortune from our betrothal, but it was never about money for me!" she cried, her voice tight. "Count the number of times our seventh year where I could have curried favor with those higher in the Dark Lord's esteem than your family by turning my back on you. Not once did I hesitate, not through the Carrows' punishments nor our House's manipulations. You claim that only your family was standing beside you after the Battle of Hogwarts? Your memory fails you, Draco. I was tucked under your arm when you greeted your parents for the first time." Her voice tightened in anguish. "If not your love, my loyalty at least demands your respect."

By the end of her speech, Draco's eyes had gentled, his cheeks pink with shame. "Pans--" he said softly. He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he murmured, tracing the lines of her face gently with his finger; she shut her eyes, quivering at his touch. "You've always been my best friend, I know that. No matter what I did to push you away, to test you, you've never failed me."

She drew strength from his fervent words--this was her chance. "Marry me, Draco," she whispered urgently, cupping his face with her hands. "Stand with me, say the handfasting... once it's done in the old way, no one can undo it. We'll be together as we should be. Remember our binding?" She didn't trust that he loved her as much as she did him--she had long ago recognized the power he held over her--but his faith in the old magic, the rituals that tied purebloods to their lands and families, was unwavering, and she could draw on that without hesitation.

"Blood and blood together we bind, our land and gold together we share, In this union the strength of progeny find, Bound until our lungs breathe no more air." Draco chanted, interlacing his fingers with hers.

For a moment, she could see in his eyes that he was swayed by her words. She held her breath. A few more hours' resolve, long enough to find a mage, and she could make them safe.

Just then, an owl perched on the oak branch nearest to him, holding out its leg. Draco grasped the message, broke the seal, and skimmed it. She searched his face for a reaction. "It's the Ministry," he said curtly, his voice hard. "A summons from the Wizengamot; they've called for the surrender of our accounts abroad."

"That's unprecedented; they can't do that!"

Draco's jaw clenched. "They must have somehow convinced the Ministries of those other countries that this was necessary." He stared at her for a long moment. "Pansy," he said finally, "I can't. I'm sorry. I know your father will find you a good match."

She gripped his forearm, digging in her nails. "I don't want a good match. I want you," she hissed, knowing that she risked shaming herself in this moment, not caring.

He kissed her cheek, hard, but his eyes were steely and stubborn. "Goodbye." With that, he pulled his arm free of her clutches and Apparated.

She crumpled against the tree, sobbing until the gasps of air she stole between her cries burned like liquid fire in her chest.

---

As the Hyacinth Blooms

Theodore Nott sat on the light blue settee in the Parkinson family's drawing room, his limbs uncomfortably cramped by his father on his left and mother on his right. Pansy bit her lip to stifle a laugh. Hysteria is a liberty afforded only to women more privileged than you or I. Her mother's advice sunk like a stone into her stomach, settling her for what was to come.

Lord Nott was a mousy looking man, as lanky as his son, but lacking the cool command which his son seemed to wield effortlessly through his unflinching gaze. Lady Nott's face had more in common with a toad than with the delicate features of the women of the Parkinson family, but the full bosom and wide hips hugged by her very expensive silk dress gave a clear explanation of why she had been picked for the senior Nott over twenty years ago. It was even clearer, based on the liquid grace of Theodore's movements, that he would not be settling for as simple a match as his father had.

"Pansy dearest, you have no appetite," her mother murmured. "Why don't you take Theo for a walk around the grounds; the hyacinth is stunning this time of year."

Without waiting for her response, Theodore stood. "Miss Parkinson, it'd be my honor to accompany you around the gardens."

Pansy looked at the young man. "Please, call me Pansy," she said.

"Then call me Theo," he said graciously.

We spent seven years in the same Common Room, and yet we barely know each other. Theodore--Theo--had been neither an enemy nor a friend to Draco Malfoy, and as a result, she had paid no attention to him. Then. Things were different now.

Stepping past her father, she reached out and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. He had already bent his arm to accommodate her grip. At least he's not lacking in social graces, she mused, as they began to walk down the lengthy hallway toward the gardens.

She shivered when they left the House, the crisp March air raising goosebumps on her shoulders.

"We should have gotten you a coat," Theo observed, before taking off his dress jacket and arranging it around her shoulders solicitously. And he's observant... perhaps kind, though it's too early to say as of yet, she noted, holding the shoulders of the jacket tightly around herself with her free hand. Anyone who's not a dunce would be kind before a betrothal agreement is reached. Theo had gotten excellent marks at Hogwarts; she remembered Draco's complaints during seventh year.

"Father's being unfair," Draco grumbled, staring into the fire, "I spend half the nights patrolling for the Carrows and the other half worrying they're going to send a Relashio my way for some stupid slight. Nott hides away in the library and studies. Of course, he's going to get the better marks!"

Pansy shook her head, mentally admonishing herself for her folly. Thinking about Draco when you're walking with the man who could be your husband? You've already lost the battle; don't lose the war.

"Aren't they beautiful?" she commented. "Hyacinth is my favorite flower, so delicate and elegant...and its glorious scent!" She dipped her head low above a blossom and inhaled, calming herself. "I used to get angry with my mother when I was small because she had named me after a more plebian flower," she said, laughing.

Theo's face remained thoughtful. "Do you know the story associated with hyacinth?" When she shook her head, he continued. "Hyacinth was a boy who was loved by Apollo and Zephyr, the West Wind. But Hyacinth loved Apollo more, impressed by his gallant disc-throwing. One day, Apollo and he were playing together, and Zephyr, poisoned with jealousy, altered the flight of the discus so that Hyacinth was struck by it and died. Apollo would not allow Hades to take the boy's body and instead made a flower from the blood he spilled that day. The flower is a symbol of resurrection or rebirth."

There was an awkward pause as Pansy waited for him to say more. I tell him my favorite flower, and he tells me about a Greek myth where the lover dies instead of flirting! Pansy thought, taken aback. So much for social graces, I suppose.

"Shall we go back?" Theo offered, breaking the unexpected silence. "I imagine our parents are wondering what happened to us."

Pansy's smile looked a little forced. "Of course," she said and the pair began to make their way back to the Manor.

~.~.~

A few hours later, Pinky the house elf requested her presence in her father's study.

"Well, what do you think?" he said without preamble as soon as she sat in an armchair.

"I--" She looked flustered. Last time, they hadn't asked her to make a decision for weeks, preferring instead to let Draco and her spend time together. Then again, last time, she had been thirteen, and her father's Gringotts account had been considerably fuller. "I don't know yet."

Mr. Parkinson harrumphed, but his wife placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. "Pansy," she said gently, "they have offered us twice the Malfoys' price... and a house in the south of France on top of that. You know how your father feels about retiring to Cap d'Antibes."

"So instead of a pension plan, you have me!" she quipped, knowing she was treading the fine line between the spunk her parents enjoyed and insolence.

Her father stood. Looks like you crossed it. "This is your obligation to our family," he hissed. "Your mother and I have never attempted to hide that from you. The Notts are a good family. I didn't raise you to be prone to flights of fancy!" he snapped.

How dare he? "You call a six year engagement a flight of fancy?" she cried. "This is all your doing, Father. You bound me to the Malfoys when I was just a child, in spite of Mother's protests that I was too young. And now you're disappointed with the results? Surprised that I want something more than a stranger in my marriage bed?"

Her vision blackened around the edges with the force of his slap. She could feel heat pulsing in her cheek where his hand had struck her. Dazed, she looked at the silver ring he always wore, the one with the Parkinson family seal. How deliciously appropriate if he's imprinted that damn crest on my cheek...a farmer branding his best milk-cow.

"Philius!" her mother shrieked.

He ignored his wife. "Unless you find that you can pay for seven years of lessons in French and dance, for countless dresses and every gift with which I've spoiled you," he spat at his only child, "you will consent to this marriage. You'll be a happy, blushing bride and repay me for all the effort I've put into raising you!"

Without another word, Pansy stormed out of the study.

The next morning, a bouquet of hyacinths sat on her dressing room table with a note.

Pansy,
My parents told me the good news last night. I have high hopes for this new chapter.
~Theo

The bitter anger she felt towards her father faded slightly as she smiled down at the parchment. Definitely kind, she noted with satisfaction. Maybe this wasn't such a bad development, after all.

~.~.~

Pansy kissed her mother tearfully, sparing no pause for her father. She turned back to Theo, who smiled invitingly, the ivy wreath in his hair giving him a youthful whimsy which brightened the smile that she gave him in return.

"Wife," he addressed her solemnly, "the time has come to take our leave."

"AND TONIGHT, YOU'LL SUFFER NO REPRIEVE!" chorused the crowd behind them in the popular rejoinder to the last formal statement of the ancient wedding ritual.

Pansy swallowed nervously, ignoring the raucous cheers behind her as she placed a hand over Theo's. He squeezed her fingers in warning before Apparating them away.

Pansy stumbled when they arrived at their destination, reaching out to catch her balance on whatever stood nearest--which happened to be her new husband. Where a more hot-blooded man...Draco...would have taken the opportunity to pull her closer, Theo patiently waited until she found her footing and pulled her hands from his shoulders, intertwining his fingers with hers as she blushed.

"Your nightgown is on the bed," he murmured. "I'll go wash up while you change."

She nodded gratefully, happy that he wouldn't watch her undress. Yet. Determinedly, she put on the lacy slip and burrowed underneath the covers, waiting for him. When he emerged, clad in silk pajama pants and nothing else, she bit her lower lip, panic bubbling up under her ribs until she was fighting not to gasp.

"It was a beautiful ceremony, wasn't it?" she said, grimacing at the obvious tension in her voice.

Theo frowned. "If you like that sort of thing, I suppose," his tone dubious.

She arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean, that sort of thing?"

He gestured with a hand. "Oh, I don't know... the old traditions."

Her mouth formed an O of surprise. For a second, she considered masking her reaction but quickly reneged on the thought. He's my husband now, no point in hiding what I think from him.

Theo, looking at her, seemed to come to the same conclusion. "The rituals frustrate me," he admitted. "A thousand steps, and no one knows exactly why we do it. Of course, our parents tell us that each step strengthens the magic, but they can't tell us how." He shrugged. "After the War, purebloods are vulnerable--most people in Britain assume blood status and support of the Dark Lord went hand in hand for all of us. At least for now, we need to blend into the world around us in order to survive. These ceremonies that we cling to just serve to separate us even further from those who hate us and would seek to eliminate the privilege our families have earned." He paused. "Even though that privilege comes not from the purity of our blood but rather years of established trade and commerce," he added, somewhat heatedly.

Pansy caught a glimpse of the pensive look on his face. He has a girl waiting in his marriage bed, awaiting consummation, and he talks to her about politics, she marveled.

"Mm, I see," she said, her mind still completely distracted by what was to come.

Theo began to chuckle.

She glared. "What? Do I have something on my face?" She touched her cheeks, suddenly self-conscious.

"No," he murmured quietly. "You haven't heard a word I've said. You're nervous, aren't you?" She couldn't bring herself to respond, and his eyes glimmered. He's satisfied, she realized with surprise, that he could identify my emotions. A man who actually observes a woman's emotions... and cares that he is right? Completely bewildered, she stared at him.

He touched her cheek gently; she struggled not to flinch. Here it comes... She waited for his hand to slip downward to the strap covering her shoulder. "I'm not going to bed you tonight," he murmured. "It's bad enough that my parents refused to give me time to find a wife of my own and you've been forced into this...arrangement as a result. I'll be damned if I take advantage of it." She trembled violently at his words, and he grinned. "I won't take offense if you're relieved," he said lightly, pulling his hand away from his face and turning his back to her as he lay down on his side.

Out of a newfound respect for her husband, she didn't allow herself a single sigh. But when Theo's whispered "Nox" put out the lights, she grinned up at the stars shining through the bedroom window. What an odd perspective on our society, she thought before her eyes drifted shut. But if that gives me some days to get to know him before he beds me, I can't complain.

~.~.~

"We're so glad you could finally join us for dinner," Lady Nott commented as the house-elf served the tiramisu. She glanced at her son, smiling. "You two have hidden yourself away the past two weeks; I was wondering if we'd ever see you again."

"Oh, Lady Nott, I'm sorry, it's just--"

"My dear, that comment wasn't directly at you," the woman next to her clarified, laughing, "I'm perfectly aware that I raised a son who completely disdains social decorum. He got that from his father, unfortunately. I'm sorry to have burdened you with him! And please, call me Marisa," she said jovially.

Pansy couldn't help but smile. While she had heard horrible things about her father-in-law's first wife, Theo's stepmother was delightful. Though his father had been a widower when Theo was a child, her husband viewed Marisa as his mother. She hoped she was as gracious a mother-in-law as this woman someday. And that my daughter marries as understanding a husband, she reflected.

"Theo, come to the study with me; let's leave the ladies alone to chatter," Lord Nott said imperiously, rising from the table. Obediently, Theo followed him out of the room, but not before he spared a soft smile for Pansy.

"You two seem happy," Marisa observed.

Her kindness made Pansy feel she could be open. "Well, I don't know him well yet, but he's patient with me." Impulsively, she patted the woman's hand. "You've taught him wonderful manners, you know."

And just like that, whatever remaining formality had restrained the two women evaporated. Pansy found herself laughing, teasing and conversing without prevarication, finding an easy rapport with Marisa that she had always lacked with Narcissa Malfoy. As their desserts dwindled on their plates, Pansy was surprised to find contentment settling warmly in her stomach.

The men returned sooner than she expected. When she met Theo at the doorway, he avoided her eyes. "We should go," he said, not even bothering to kiss Marisa on the cheek. "Good night, Father, Mother." Abruptly, he gripped her arm and Apparated.

When they landed in their bedroom, Pansy glared at him. "What in Merlin's name got into you, Theo? I was making such headway with your mother, and then you had to hustle me off --she probably thinks I'm the most ungrateful girl--"

"I'm sure my father will explain," Theo said, his voice calm and his eyes anything but. He tore off his cufflinks and unbuttoned his shirt.

She arched an eyebrow. "In a hurry?" Until now, he had taken great care to never appear before her in any state of undress.

He ignored her question, staring at himself in the mirror as she stood behind him. "My father was angry tonight." He shrugged off the shirt and began working on the belt. Pansy fought to hide the alarm she felt.

"What are you doing, Theo?" she asked with growing dismay.

Once more, he continued as if she wasn't in the room. "He told me that the magical contract of our betrothal is set upon the condition of consummation, not upon marriage. Whatever your father had promised him in addition to your hand in marriage, he has not received."

"I see," Pansy said softly. Theo placed his belt on the top of the bed and began working the buttons of his pants.

"Indeed." He turned towards her. "He told me you've cuckolded me, as if I would care about something so bloody archaic." He looked at her with pained eyes. "And he's threatened to Charm me into bedding you, Dark Magic obviously, if I don't do it myself. With haste, he said."

Pansy couldn't breathe. "Oh," she whispered, shutting her eyes to block out the sight of him coming closer.

"Pansy..." he said gently.

"Please don't, Theo," she pleaded. "G-give me some time, I--"

Each of her Slytherin classmates had a horror story from the first night of their arranged marriages--at best, completely mechanical and passionless encounters for the women involved, and at worst, painful. But Theo's kindness and understanding that night had drastically shifted her expectations. She thought that he would not be a stranger the first time he bedded her... that she would be able to remember her first night with him with joy.

He gripped her chin, tilting her face towards his. "Think about it practically," he urged. "I don't know how long my father will wait, and you'll be safer--"

At his words, the fear she was fighting to subdue burst into star-spangled fireworks in her chest. After spending days luxuriating in the subtle intimacies of holding his hand or hugging him, feeling the tiny crescendo of anticipation grow stronger in her mind, the thought of him lying naked on top of her tonight made her queasy. How had things changed so quickly? Only a few minutes ago, she had been so happy to be married to Theo.

She shoved him away from her without preamble--a final desperate attempt to stop this nightmare. "THINK ABOUT IT PRACTICALLY?" she screamed. "Are you that much of a stone that you can think practically about something like this?" she spat. Anything, anything to get him away. "When you waited, at first, I thought you were respectful. Then, I thought you might be shy." She scrambled for any barb that would repulse him, at least for tonight. "I considered the possibility that perhaps you didn't like girls--" She watched with satisfaction as Theo's face paled. "--And then I decided I just didn't bloody care because I liked taking it slow. And now you expect me to jump into bed with you overnight? Let me just think practically about that--it makes no bloody sense!"

He stepped closer, unperturbed by her vitriol. "Pansy, I know you're afraid, but I promise I won't hurt you."

Pansy gulped. Didn't he understand? This wasn't about physical pain. This night should have been hers and Draco's. It should have been the fulfillment of six years of love and restrained passion. Her husband was still a stranger, so this night wouldn't even be a union of friends. Instead of feeling overjoyed and adored, she would be nervous. She had not been saving herself for a night like this.

"All your criticism of pureblood traditions, the disdain you have your father as a husband to your mother... You're a hypocrite, Theo," she hissed.

He recoiled as if she had struck him. Surprising her, he said nothing, simply stalking into the study adjacent to the bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

As the adrenalin of the fight faded, her knees began to tremble. Nerves shattered, she stripped off her dress robes and slipped into pajamas before getting into bed. Covering her head with the quilt, she shut her eyes to stave off her raging emotions, praying she would soon fall asleep.

What kind of man have you attached yourself to? Draco had come to visit her after the announcement of her engagement and the memory of his voice haunted her now.

Draco would never have been so disrespectful. In spite of her best efforts, hot tears slipped out from under her eyelashes, soaking the silk pillow beneath her head. She was still awake when, hours later, Theo slipped under the covers to lie beside her, a careful space set between them.

~.~.~

Pansy tightened the sash of her robe as she pulled back her side of the covers. Theo was already sitting in bed, propped up against the pillows of the headboard, poring over a book.

"Helena is in tears," she snapped. "You'll have to deal with her in the morning."

Theo looked away from his book to gauge his wife's fierce expression. "She's a young elf, Pansy, you shouldn't be so harsh on her. She only wants to please us--her mother was my father's best house elf."

"Well, why don't you send her back to your bloody father, Theo? Maybe he'll have better luck making her willing than you did with me," Pansy said sweetly, every word slipping from her lips laced with poison.

He simply arched an eyebrow at her. "The innuendo in your voice is duly noted," he said drolly. Theo paused, took off his glasses and wiped the lens with the sleeve of his nightshirt, staring at Pansy with wide, unfocused orbs. A cheap trick to look innocent. He's anything but. "If you continue to indulge your childish urges to snipe at me, Pansy, I will buy you a toy broomstick. It's a far healthier way to express your anger and frustration," he said bitingly.

The blood drained from Pansy's face, and she opened her mouth with a snarl to spit a reply. But Theo had turned back to his book, effectively ending the conversation and winning the verbal sparring match.

Pansy wasn't the type to let the last word go; no one had done that since Draco had-- "Nox," she said, effectively hiding her distress.

"A Pyrrhic victory, my dear wife," Theo murmured. With no further ado, he pulled his legs out from under the covers and walked into the adjacent study, taking his book with him. Pansy glared at the yellow glow emanating from the crack between the door and the floor before rolling over and putting her pillow over her head to block out the light.

~.~.~

Pansy carefully slipped a pair of stunning diamond earrings into her ears, an anniversary present from Theo's parents. These would make her father happy. Proof of purchase, bought and paid.

It wasn't as if Theo was wont to host parties each month as she would have liked. He was practically a hermit, preferring to spend his nights with a book in his lap rather than a drink in his hand or a woman on his arm. He simply could not avoid hosting a celebratory ball on the first anniversary of their marriage, lest people begin to whisper about the state of relations between the new Lord and Lady Nott.

She supposed she should be thankful for his reclusive disposition--if he had been a different kind of man, with the way their marriage was, she would have had to worry about him finding someone else and ruining her reputation in society by being indiscreet. Theodore Nott would never be enough of a fool over a woman to be indiscreet. He lacks the requisite passion.

Taking a deep breath, she took one last look at herself in the mirror. And that's the last thought you have about him tonight, she promised herself. She had survived a year of marriage, even consummation, with a man she did not love. Tonight was her night. Neither melancholy nor her husband would ruin it. And Draco is here. A thrill of anticipation made her stomach flip over, and her cheeks filled with heat and color. She pressed the backs of her hands against them until they cooled to a slight flush. The high spirits of a contented wife, she thought, imagining Theo's discomfited reaction at her visible excitement with glee.

Theo was waiting for her at the end of the hallway across from their bedroom. She paused when she caught a glimpse of his attire. Dressed in wine-colored silk which matched her dress and complemented his icy blue eyes, he looked more dashing than she had imagined he could be. He reached his hand out toward her, the candlelight casting a dull glint onto the heavily burnished gold of his wedding ring, and she joined him.

"You do me justice tonight, Lady Nott," he murmured into her ear as they stepped onto the staircase, hands clasped. With that remark, any residual warmth she felt towards him evaporated. I do him justice? As if he could hope to match me with his looks, she thought, disgruntled. The people gathered below began to applaud. She looked down at their heads, hoping to glimpse ice-blonde hair.

As the ball's hosts, the young Lord and Lady Nott had to start the dancing. Pansy stared over Theo's shoulder, her nose pressed into the sharp edge of his collarbone. "Could you hold me any tighter?" she hissed at him, annoyed.

He tilted his head so his mouth touched her edge of her ear, replying, "Whatever the lady wishes," he murmured, his tone a hair's breadth away from threatening.

He chuckled as she shivered helplessly at the heat of his expelled breath. Digging her fingers into the muscles of his shoulder, she appreciated the way his eyes slid shut to hide a wince before hissing, "The lady thinks she's fulfilled her obligations, so if my lord would be so kind to take her off the dance floor before she sticks a nail into his eye, she would be eternally grateful." She smiled up at him beatifically, for the benefit of their audience.

At the edge of the dance floor, a man approached them. "Burkes of Borgin and Burkes," he introduced. "Congratulations on your anniversary, Lord Nott. We wish you many more years of happiness. Your father and I shared much profitable business some years back."

"Before the War, you mean," Theo stated bluntly. "Isn't your shop on the Ministry's watch list now?" While the man squirmed in front of her, Pansy saw a way to make her escape.

"I have no intention of standing here while you talk shop, Theo," she said lightly, dancing her fingertips flirtatiously up and down his arm. Let Burke think I'm a dimwitted light-skirt, for all I care, she thought ruthlessly. As long as he believes I'm hopelessly in love with my husband, and as long as I get to find Draco! "In case you haven't noticed, we're at a ball!"

She could see in Theo's eyes that he realized something was afoot, but he had no choice but to concede. "Alright, darling, I'll find you when my work is done." His voice held a warning for her ears alone that she ignored as she hurried to the balcony at the opposite edge of the ballroom. Draco had always loved the constellation whose name he shared.

Dressed in baby blue silk, he was leaning against the railing, his profile ethereal in the moonlight. "I thought I might find you here," she murmured, sidling as close as she dared to the warmth of his body.

He turned his face towards hers. "You've always known my habits better than anyone, Pans."Just like that, his nickname for her decimated the happy veneer that had carried her through this night.

"I've missed you," she whispered, gripping the railing so that she wouldn't reach out to him.

He looked shattered. "We haven't spoken in months. Every time I need to discuss something important, I feel like I'm missing an arm," he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse.

"I'm sorry. I tried to write, at first, but Theo didn't like it and..." She gestured helplessly.

Draco's eyes flashed. "Merlin knows I can't blame him for that--if you were my wife, I'd do the same." When she heard his tongue treat the word 'wife' with such reverence, her heart flipped over in her chest. Only the cage of her ribs stopped it from flying to him like Snitch to Seeker.

This was getting dangerous--another moment on this subject and she would twine herself around him like ivy to a dearly sought trellis with no thought for their audience. "Upon my request, Mama's kept me informed about you, though I don't know as much as I'd like. How go the legal proceedings?"

"A complete mess. The Ministry has so much evidence--private correspondence, even financial transactions." He shook his head. "Father completely lacked subtlety those last few years." Draco's jaw tightened. "He should have protected himself--protected us--against any possibility. Instead he's damned our every appeal."

Pansy's stomach clenched in sympathy, remembering the afternoon before her betrothal to Theo when she had realized her father was not all she had thought him to be. It had to be a thousand times worse for Draco, loving his father as he did.

"Voldemort was staying at the Manor then, Draco," she reasoned. "Most of the time, he was closer to you and your mother than Lucius was. Of course, your father did whatever he asked."

"Last time we saw each other, Pans, you told me that my father's talk of family was just a pretense. I didn't want to admit that you were right then, but don't protect me from the truth now."

"I would never lie to you, Draco," Pansy said heatedly, her voice low and honest. "I said your father's rhetoric was a ploy to convince you and others around him. His love for you and your mother is something else altogether. Questioning that would be like doubting the sun."

Draco drew in a deep, shaky breath. "How do I spend months dwelling on questions which you can answer in a single conversation?"

Pansy ignored the sentiment throbbing behind his words. Quicksand, and I want so badly to drown. "Because I'm smarter than you, of course," she said lightly. "I know you're a little dull, Draco, but honestly, you should have realized that years ago."

Draco's laugh was bright, and he seemed surprised at the sound even as it shook his shoulders. "Alright, Pans, whatever you say," he murmured, his voice warm.

She turned back to the music of the ballroom. "I should go," she said reluctantly.

He reached out and grasped her wrist tightly. "There are ways other than Floo to talk, you know. Or do other things," he added darkly, "anything you want, anything you'll allow. I'll do it for you," he said feverishly, his eyes dancing over her face searching for her reaction. "I lo--"

"Don't, Draco," she said quietly, unable to meet his eyes. "Please don't. I couldn't bear it if you said it to me now, after a year of..." Heartbreak. Loneliness. Marriage.

The pain in her voice quietened him. "Would you leave him if I asked you?"

She pulled away from his hold. Worse than quicksand... Devil's Snare, binding me more tightly each time I move. "Do you remember what I told you that afternoon by the oak tree? 'Once it's done in the old way, no one can undo it'... You're too late, Draco."

"Pansy?" Theo's voice called. His conversation with Burkes must have finished.

"Coming!" she cried quickly, walking away from Draco. This time, he didn't stop her.

~.~.~

Pansy sat in front of her vanity mirror, brushing her hair with the fine-toothed comb her mother had bought her for her fourteenth birthday after her engagement to Draco. "Now, the way you conduct yourself and how you look reflects on him," her mother had instructed her firmly, pressing the obsidian handle into her hand.

The silver scar on her inner wrist shone in the candlelight and she placed the comb down, examining her forearm. Both of her engagements had been traditional rites, and such agreements, made with blood, left scars when they were broken. Draco would have a matching scar on his right arm. She wondered if he ever caught himself staring at it as she did--a superficial manifestation of deep-seated regret. She wondered if he ever imagined their life together.

Pansy had never realized how lucky she was. Where Draco was as quick to anger as he was to forgiveness, Theo was reserved at best and impossible to read at worst. His equilibrium unbalanced her. How could she understand what she could neither see nor hear? With Draco, there had been fights that were like wildfires--frequent, heated and fast, but with Theo, her marriage was being engulfed by a glacier--icy, slow-moving, completely crippling. The fights which started after his first attempt to bed her had faded to heated barbs by their first anniversary. Now, Theo's tendency to mute his reactions had brought them to a stilted, stagnant civility where so much went unsaid.

And forget things at their worst--at their best, Draco had been the perfect heir to an aristocratic family, truly his father's son. Her room in Slytherin dormitory had been littered with expensive, thoughtful presents, the envy of every girl at Hogwarts except for Granger, who was too enamored with her books to be paying much attention to anything else. At any social gathering, he showed her off, proud to have her on his arm. Theo, on the other hand, had barely even introduced her to his friends. His parents had bought her more presents than he had... the last time must have been that bouquet of flowers he sent on their betrothal day! Even Theo's perceptive nature, which she had once seen as solicitous and caring in its own way, now grated on her nerves, making her feel like she was constantly being watched.

Most of all, Pansy missed the feeling of being relied upon and trusted. She had been Draco's confidante, advisor, and partner; he had trusted her counsel and acted upon it. On the other hand, Theo and she talked about books and philosophy, trade and finance as it related to his work, but these topics were practically boring, as far as she was concerned. Though Theo never avoided answering her direct questions, he never revealed any vulnerability to her of his own accord, let alone consulted her on his problems. Where Draco had been a beloved friend, Theo was her husband, and, even now, a stranger.

She had told Draco that he was too late, with good reason--her magical bond to Theo could not be undone as long as they both lived--but lately, she found herself daydreaming that Theo would agree to release her from her legal bond to him after realizing that she deserved to be with the man she understood. And loved.

It was only a dream... but what did she have left besides dreams now?

The door opened with a creak, and Pansy looked up, startled out of her reflection. Over and over, her finger had been tracing the line of her silver scar, almost a caress. Hastily, she stopped and turned to the man who stood in the doorway.

"Are you ready for bed?" Theo asked politely, holding up his book. "I wanted to come in and read, but I didn't know if I would disturb you."

"No, of course, come in... I'll put on my nightgown." Quickly, she placed her brush in her drawer, shutting it away with all the memories before she turned back to her husband.

~.~.~

For the second time in nearly six months, Pansy found Draco on the balcony. This time, the occasion was a ball for Marisa's sixtieth birthday.

"Hello again," she said. As she walked up to him, she was struck by a sudden sense of unease.

He stiffened nearly imperceptibly. "Pansy," he acknowledged.

His lack of reaction to her greeting was unnerving. "H-How go the appeals?"

Draco said, "The Daily Prophet has been covering them marvelously."

She bit her lower lip. "I didn't ask about the news, Draco; I asked about you."

"Did you?" he said calmly. "Then I should say that they're going as anticipated, and our lawyers are excellent."

It was the answer that the Malfoys had been giving in all of their press statements. "Draco, I don't understand, I just want to--"

"Don't, Pansy," Draco said coolly, in an eerie reflection of their last conversation. "You said I was too late, didn't you? Why are you here, then?"

Pansy frowned. "Just because we aren't married doesn't mean that I'm not your best friend. I've known you since you were eleven years old, Draco! You can't erase that history."

"And you know that because you've tried, surely." His voice had absolutely no inflection, his mouth completely relaxed; there was no expression to indicate what he was thinking. He looks exactly like Lucius. The thought filled her with absolute horror.

"That's unfair. I can't be in touch--you know why--but I still care for you deeply, Draco. Don't punish me by cutting me off, not after so many years of friendship."

"You can't be my best friend, Pans." Draco sighed. "You're married--you can't even send me an owl."

She searched his face for anger, hurt, disappointment, any emotion. After last time, why would he do this? What's changed?

"And soon, I'll be married too," he said, his casual tone sounding forced, the creases around his mouth strained. "The engagement will be announced soon. To Astoria Greengrass... you know, Daphne's younger sister," he added.

Pansy couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. She felt an absurd tingling in her fingers. Her arms reflexively bore her weight on the railing, holding her up while her knees decided they wouldn't work anymore. It was selfish to be upset, she knew, not when she was already married, but after his plea to her months ago, she had dreamed...

Draco. Engaged. Astoria. Married. Soon. She replayed the words over and over in her head. Why wasn't she crying? Why wasn't she screaming? How could she feel nothing, after so long? How could there be nothing... Nothing left at all?

After a few minutes, Draco made his excuses and walked back into the ballroom. But she stood at the railing until the music stopped and all the people left, staring up at the constellation of the dragon until tears finally blurred her vision and silently trickled down her cheeks.

~.~.~

"We have to go, Theo."

Theo glanced up from his food. "Absolutely not. I have too much work and you've been so tired lately."

Pansy bit her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. The fiery rage that had burned in her gut since Draco informed her of his engagement was rising up to meet Theo's blunt refusal, but she knew that arguing at this stage would be unproductive. "Draco's an old school friend," she reasoned, her voice tense, "and you've been trying to sign a new contract with the Greengrasses, haven't you? It only makes sense to go to their wedding. As a sign of our respect." As my last chance to see Draco before everything changes.

Theo shook his head. "I won't go, Pansy, and I absolutely forbid you to go alone."

She slammed both fists down on the table, rattling her cutlery, which still lay by her plate, untouched. "We MUST go!" she cried, all pretenses evaporated. To her horror, she burst into tears. Before she could embarrass herself further, she left the dining table, hurrying to the bedroom.

She sat down in front of her vanity mirror, yanking open the drawer and taking out her brush. Methodically, she split her hair into sections. Slowly, she began to brush it, stroking from top to bottom, over and over again. She hoped the ritual would calm her, but it was of no use--her hands were shaking too much to finish the task. She put the brush down, blinking against the pulsing pain at her temples. She felt exhausted, stretched too thin by the constant effort of stifling her grief.

"Do you think I don't know?" Theo's soft question stiffened her back. She didn't answer. Unperturbed, he walked behind her so she could see his reflection in the glass. She turned her face to look down at her lap.

"Do you think I missed the connection between Malfoy's engagement and you wasting away these past few months?" Theo's tone was not accusatory, only sad. "I first realized you still loved him when you escaped to the balcony to be with him during our anniversary ball," he revealed. "I let it go at first. I knew you couldn't leave me. I thought that once he was married, things might be different for us." His voice was raw, full of anguish. She couldn't help but listen, staring at his face in the mirror. "The way it was at the start." He smiled at her. "Remember those first few weeks where we hid ourselves away from everything and everyone? I felt like I could tell you anything then."

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. Pansy's heart nearly broke, then, to see him make a gesture so similar to Draco-- "Now, look at me," he continued, interrupting her line of thought before it could distract her. "I'm an even bigger failure than my father; at least he never tried to befriend his wives. We're stuck in this sham of a marriage, and I don't know how to..." She could see his grimace, hear the regret and disdain he felt for their situation in his voice, and felt an empathetic throb somewhere low in her gut. I never knew he felt the way I do.

He paused, reached out to touch her and thought better of it, instead gripping the sharp corner of the table at which she sat. He was leaning over her slightly, and she breathed in his scent--cinnamon, a hint of cloves--After nearly two years of marriage, I still have no idea what cologne he wears.

"I know what you saw in him; he is everything that I am not," he observed bitterly. "Where I am slow to speak, he charms. Where I am solitary, not prone to heeding decorum, he is chivalrous and gallant--he showed you off like a queen at the Yule Ball, I remember, and we were only children then. He lavished you with attention."

Words escaped her. How did he know so much about how she felt when she had shared so little of herself?

Theo shook his head as if admonishing himself. "I had such high hopes for our union," he admitted quietly. His voice was raw, honest, piercing through the haze that had surrounded her these past few months. "I saw how your careful observations and maneuvers preserved his position in Slytherin House even when he was paying little attention to his peers. I even took your disdain for me as a positive sign--after all, you had been engaged to him for six years; how could I expect that you would wake up one day and simply love me? I took your loyalty to him as a sign of strength, yet another indication that we could be happy together someday."

He laid his hand delicately on her head, and the touch made her shiver. "But look in the mirror, Pansy," he urged in a low voice. "Look at what your love for him has done to you." She gazed at herself, taking note of her features for the first time in many months. Gaunt cheekbones and dark circles under her eyes, she was as pale and sallow as a ghost, with deep creases by her mouth and between her eyebrows. "Don't you see?" He traced the line of her cheekbone with his thumb. "You spent all your time watching him, studying him, catering to his every need when we were at school--but he never did the same for you. Those extravagant gifts, the charming compliments--they were a perfectly honed skill. It was his duty to shower you with attention. And yes, he treasured you because he needed you, but not because he appreciated your strengths. Rather, he saw the way you complemented his strengths... a selfish love, an unaware love."

She should feel angry that Theo was speaking in such a way about Draco. She should stand up and defend him as she had for the past eight years. But she could tell, by the tone of her husband's hushed voice, by the way that his eyes never moved for a heartbeat away from hers, that this conversation had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy; Theo cared for her, only her.

He tilted her chin, turned her face away from the mirror so that she was finally looking directly at him. "I see you. I have watched the past two years, learned everything I could about you, and waited, waited for you to finally do the same for me, as you did for him when you were just a girl. But I have been patient long enough, and I refuse to repeat the mistake you made with Draco. If you will not see my strengths yourself, I will show you. I will not let you cast me aside," he said resolutely. He released her, taking a step back, and her lips parted, on the brink of telling him not to go.

"Remember the story of Hyacinth and Apollo? I told you that story because of your broken engagement with Draco. I knew that you had already given your heart away once. I was willing to be Apollo, allowing your love to be reborn anew." Pansy couldn't look away from the pain that suddenly shone in his eyes. "But you have made me into Zephyr, killing you even as I try to love you." His jaw clenched. "You cannot love him this much, Pansy, not as my wife," he said quietly, his voice hard. "You must choose."

A few minutes ago, her decision had been clear, but Pansy struggled to accommodate the sudden shift in perspective caused by Theo's incisive reflections. The feelings which Theo expressed showed that he was no cruel and inconsiderate master... her husband had struggled to meet her in her pain, to understand her, and she hadn't made it easy for him. Where he had been taciturn, she had been spiteful; where he had been scathing, she had been cruel. They shared equal responsibility for this mess of a marriage.

Even though Theo had not tried to disparage Draco unnecessarily, knowing that she loved him, years of memories with Draco to which Theo was not privy supplemented his brief observations, clearing her mind of the fog of adoration which had blinded her. The things she loved about Draco--his tempestuous nature, hot in love and in anger... those characteristics made him easy to understand but were terrible attributes to have in a partner. Even after two years of bitter conflict, her husband was still standing in front of her, resolute and unwavering in his determination to build a life with her. And how many times had Theo, in their conversations about business or politics, taught her something new? Where Draco had needed her to help him understand the people around him and formulate his opinions, Theo already knew what he wanted and how he felt. He wanted her. Maybe truly equal partnerships weren't driven by need, but rather desire... and understanding.

"You could never be my Apollo," she pointed out. Theo's face fell and she hurried to finish, "Only I can change the person that I have been. And you were never Zephyr; in this foolishness, I caused my own pain. The story ends when Hyacinth is reborn, doesn't it?" Theo nodded and she smiled. "Then I would have you be a man who walks each day through the garden, treasuring the sight of me for the rest of his life."

Theo's eyes shined with hope. He smiled back at her without reservation. To Pansy's surprise, she felt her heartbeat flutter in response. She took the hand he offered her, and he squeezed her fingers gently, pulling her a pace closer to him so that she felt his warmth on her skin.

He whispered his solemn promise into her hair. "Each day, for the rest of my life."

~.~.~

The next morning, Pansy awoke to a bouquet of hyacinth blossoms on her bedside table. Bleary-eyed from sleep, she opened the note.

In honor of new beginnings.

~.~.~ Fin ~.~.~