My heart raced as I ran to the counselor's office, tears running down my face. "Stop it," said a voice inside my head. "Stop crying, you'll mess up your make-up," "Who would care anyway?" said another harsh voice, "Your looks were never exactly a strong point with you,"
I couldn't help myself. I burst into a fresh wave of tears, partly because of the stinging insult the spiteful voice had just thrown at me, partly because I realized that it was true. It was a bit silly really. Why on earth was I going to the Ministry of Magic's counselor? I stopped in front of the door, tears still going steadily down my face. I paused a moment, a bit apprehensive. The idea of going to someone strange and telling that person all of my trials and tribulations was a bit outrageous. My problems were for me to battle and yet, I wanted to tell someone about them. As I silently battled this in my mind, I absent-mindedly stared at the peeling silver letters on the office door.
It was a bit strange under closer inspection. There was no name on the door, only the fading letters that spelled Counselor, Ministry of Magic. "Well Pansy, this is it," I muttered to myself. "Just go in there, don't worry about it, just keep your cool," I said to myself in a reassuring voice. Tentatively, I knocked.
"Come in," said a man's voice.
I turned the knob and walked into the dim room. I looked towards the large wooden desk, which was shrouded in darkness. I frowned slightly, confused at why the counselor wished to remain in the dark.
"Sit," he commanded. Continuing, he said, "Ms. Parkinson, is it?"
"Yes," I answered, "I believe I scheduled an appointment not too long ago,"
The man shuffled some papers on his desk and leaned back in his revolving chair slightly. "Ah yes, you wished to speak to me about some problems you have been experiencing lately. Just start talking and I'll listen,"
"Well," I began, "I suppose I should start from the very beginning, shouldn't I…? I had a cold childhood, I guess. My mother died when I was very young and my father was always hateful towards me. I think he thought that it was my fault that my mother was dead. I was always scared of him, most likely because I once had a brother. My dad killed him right in front of me when I was five. I remember that he'd come home late at night, drunk. He'd shake me awake and beat me once he could find the stairs leading to my room. When I was six, he started using the Cruciatus curse on me whenever he visited me late at night. When I turned eleven, I received my acceptance letter to Hogwarts," I paused.
I sensed the man nodding, a sign for me to continue. "I was overjoyed, not only because I finally had a chance to escape from my father, but I now had a chance to associate with other people my age. Up until then my father had kept me locked up inside the house, refusing to let me talk to anyone else. I went to the train station alone. My dad simply dropped me off with my trunk and left without so much as a good-bye. I found a seat on the train and spent the ride staring out the window. Nobody turned up during the entire trip to sit with me in my compartment and I was a bit disappointed. I later discovered that it was because nobody had wanted to."
"I remember it like it was yesterday. I had walked up to the sorting hat with shaking hands and a strong desire to run away. Of course, I didn't show it. My father only taught me one thing that was ever really useful, and that was to never show your weaknesses. The hat shouted Slytherin for the entire hall to hear, I forced a smile and took my seat at the table. Not too long after me was the wonder boy. The boy who defeated He-who-must-not-be-named. The boy who had defeated the wizard who would have become my master as well as my father's. He was put in Gryffindor. Curiously, I looked around my table to see who else was in my house. There was one particular boy that caught my eye. Draco Malfoy."
"He had his silvery-blonde hair slicked back with a considerable amount of gel and his cold steel-colored eyes flashed momentarily in my direction. I looked away quickly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smirk, the expression that I would come to know as his trademark."
"Harry Potter, the boy who lived, was automatically popular. He had two best friends: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I came to know that I was supposed to despise everything about these people, from their looks to their names. I really didn't know why I had to hate them. In fact, I was almost tempted to go up to one of them and try to be their friend. No, Slytherins never associated with Gryffindors if they knew what was good for them, especially not a muggle-born one."
"I became on semi-friendly terms with Malfoy, as everyone called him. He wasn't the nicest person I had ever met, but he sufficed my crave for friendship." I stopped again as I felt tears stinging in the corners of my eyes. Talking about Malfoy was extremely painful for me. The man swiveled in his chair so that his back was to me, and I suddenly realized that he had been shifting a bit uncomfortably every now and then while I was talking. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously and he simply said, "Proceed please, Ms. Parkinson,"
I glared at the back of his head and continued. "Throughout my years at Hogwarts I suppose I fell in love with him. But it was no use; he didn't feel the same way. He'd tease my heart a bit sometimes, like tugging on my heartstrings now and then for amusement, but he never went further than that. When he asked me to the Yule Ball in my fourth year, I thought that I would die from happiness. When we got to the Great Hall, I looked around and realized that I must have looked like a weed in a rose garden. All the girls seemed to outshine me, especially Granger. That night I felt really out of place, and yet I realized that I never really fitted in. I think I gave up a long time ago, trying to figure it all out. Then, in my fifth year, that was when I really started to go through torture."
"I went back to school, my father's blows still stinging on my face. 'You will serve the Dark Lord and that is final!' he had growled at me. 'No,' I retorted, 'I don't want anything to do with him, just leave me alone!' And with that he struck me repeatedly. It was the last time I ever spoke to him. Later in the year I got news that he had been disposed of by his precious master. I wish I could say that I was sorry, but I truly wasn't. The only dilemma I was faced with was who I would stay with. I didn't know of any relatives that I could stay with and I certainly couldn't stay by myself in the lonely manor I was forced to call home. It was then that I started to wear make-up, and even though it didn't really help that much, in some silly way it made me feel better about myself. It didn't change the fact that I didn't really have any true friends, but I had just a little bit more self-esteem."
"Later on in the year and well into next year nasty rumors started to spread, none of them true. Every time I walked down the hallway or a flight of stairs people would whisper behind my back about how they heard that I wasn't a virgin anymore, that I had started drinking, that I was going to join the Dark Lord, regardless of the fact that he had killed my father. Then there were the self-esteem crushing comments. They'd call me names, Ugly Pansy, Pug-faced Pansy. People would talk to each other about me like I wasn't there to hear them, or worse, that I couldn't even understand what they were saying. I'm not stupid. I wasn't top in my class like Miss Perfect-in-every-way Granger, but I was definitely not dim-witted. They'd say that I looked like a slut, that I not only looked like one, but I was a dog, and that my attempts at improving my appearance were pathetic."
"It was all too much for me. 15-year-old girls are already self-conscious enough without help and I was totally overwhelmed by the hatred that was flooding towards me from every side. Almost everyone felt like I was trying to seduce Malfoy in some way, but it wasn't true. I can remember spending countless nights crying myself to sleep, hoping that I would just quietly die in my slumber and that I would be free. I admit I even gave a few thoughts to suicide." I looked down at the floor as tears I had tried hard to hold back came cascading down in a waterfall. I choked for a moment and regained my composure before continuing. The man didn't seem to notice, but stayed where he was and waited for me to talk again.
"During my remaining years at school I stayed with an aunt that I had never heard of and it was all right, just a bit stiff and formal. She was never tenderly loving, but she didn't act like she hated me either. I graduated from Hogwarts in my seventh year, thank goodness. I had been so afraid that I wouldn't pass. By then the Dark Lord had become powerless and weak again, and I sincerely hoped that he would never come back. I decided that I would pursue a career in the Ministry of Magic. So I'm here as a secretary." I stopped yet again.
The man slowly turned back around. "And exactly why did you schedule this appointment? Did anything suddenly come up?"
"Yes," I finally said, "a few hours ago I received a letter from Malfoy, I call him Draco. It was extremely odd, as he had never spoken to me again since Hogwarts and the letter confused me further."
"What did it say?" The man seemed to be waiting for some sort of particular reaction from me.
"It was saying things like he loved me or something, I thought it was some cruel joke from one of my co-workers, they're always doing things like that. But I could have sworn that it was his handwriting, I even did a spell to check, and it was his, no doubt about it. I don't know," I said, putting my face in my hands. "I really don't think I'm that ugly anymore, I don't look that much like a pug. I just kept thinking it was some gag done to amuse someone until I was pushed to the point where I couldn't take it anymore and I contacted you and I scheduled an appointment. I'm not sure about anything anymore." I burst into tears again, totally forgetting what my father had taught me about showing my weaknesses.
The man stood up (I could tell by the way the chair squeaked) and walked over to me. He stood behind me and put a hand on my shoulder in gentle sympathy. As I sobbed, I suddenly noticed the strong smell of expensive cologne. Only one person could be the one who wore that particular smell. I stopped crying and looked up.
"You," I whispered. The man came out of the shadows and I saw his blonde hair and piercing, but at the moment caring, gray eyes. He gave me a small smile.
I suddenly smirked. "What are you doing in a counselor's office? I didn't think that was the type of profession you'd choose."
"I didn't choose it, I really needed and job and there wasn't much of a choice," he said with a shrug.
I laughed. He looked at me with kind, loving eyes and it was then that I knew that Draco Malfoy was there to take away my pain, and for once in my entire life, show me understanding and love.
A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaah! Fluffiness of all fluffiness! Sorry, I'm just a sucker for happy endings, even when they're not practical. So, now that you've read it, please review it!
Update: My computer messed up the first time I put this up and the author's notes didn't show up, so I'm re-posting this. Oh, and thanks to Madame Plot Bunnie for reviewing! J