Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the characters. Not the universe. Okay maybe the idea.

Chapter 1 Christmas Day

Christmas Day couldn't end soon enough as far as Pansy Parkinson was concerned, who was ordering a drink at the surprisingly crowded Leaky Cauldron. As it had every Christmas since she turned seventeen, it still amazed her at how many witches and wizards had the same overriding desire to get the hell away from their families at this time of year. Maybe it was a sign she was normal after all. Or, at the very least, could be perceived as being normal.

Pansy had just bailed on her parents' annual Christmas party twenty minutes earlier. Though no one at the Leaky Cauldron would have guessed that; given her slim, black jeans; black leather, knee-length boots; and large black belt that coordinated with the halter top she had worn to the ball. However, she figured she still had two hours before she could go home. Any sooner and she ran the risk of her mother catching her and that was one battle she was in no mood to fight. Especially with her parents' annual New Year's Eve Ball just around the corner, one misstep with escaping the Christmas party guaranteed a chaperone for the entire New Year's Ball.

She paid her tab and grabbed her drink, with a quick 'thank you' to Hannah who nodded her head discretely. Leaning her back against the bar, she looked for a quite place to drink and wallow in privacy. Unfortunately, the Christmas crowd was occupying many of the tables she preferred when she felt this cranky. Finally, she spotted one in the back corner and made her way to it. Keeping her head down just enough to let her shoulder length, black hair cover her face, she kept her walk quick and confident hoping to deter any one from getting a second glance at her and recognizing her.

Unfortunately, on closer inspection, she realized that it was occupied with the most annoying Griffyndor ever – Ron Weasley. Silently, she cursed to herself. She briefly thought about spinning around and finding another table, but one look at him told her that he was in the same dark mood as she was.

What the hell? she thought.

He had hated her since she was eleven. What happened that night at the Battle of Hogwarts didn't lower his opinion of her in the least; she was as low as a person could go – except for possibly Draco. Taking a calculated risk, she scooted into the vacant side of the booth pushing into the darkened corner to hide from on-lookers.

"Beat it, Parkinson," he growled.

"Waiting on someone other than your next drink, Weasel?" she replied, not looking in his direction as she kept her eyes on the room. She turned her body to rest her back against the wall and place her feet on the bench, trying to further hide in the darkness of the booth while still keeping an eye on whoever approached the table. Never seeing the one set of eyes that were staring at her as she tried to dig herself into the darken corner.

"No."

"Then I'm staying."

She expected a fight from the hot-headed Weasel. Actually, she was hoping for a fight. She could use an argument with someone who had some anger to diffuse but wanted to make a scene as little as she did at that moment. As well as someone who had very little ammunition against her and wasn't a family member or Draco.

"Fine."

Fuck-a-doodle-do, she silently responded, deflating slightly from the irritating fact that Weasley refused to engage in battle with her.

All those years she had to endure the Weasel fighting with Granger and the one night she wanted a fight, the best source in giving her the fight she craved, refused her.

"Fine," she answered before allowing her body to go numb and her mind to go blank. It was the only way she got through the holiday season year in and year out.

Who am I kidding? she thought. It's how I get through most days anymore.

She tried desperately not to think about a past she couldn't change and a future that wouldn't. In these moments, she tried not to think of the what-ifs or the could-have-beens. She just tried to exist. To live her so called life. To focus on breathing. To determine her next witty comeback when her father and Draco bugged her about becoming a specter in her own life.

Like I really have a choice, she thought bitterly. How could they think that my life would amount to anything else?

Shaking that upsetting thought from her mind, she worked on focusing on the numbness so she could attempt to be genuinely happy the next time she spent time with her sisters – listening to them prattle on about their latest crush, dates to Hogsmeade, discussing their weddings, and future children – everything that had either been taken away from her or was never hers to start with.

"Parkinson." A voice broke her from her self-induced misery.

"What?" Her voice cracked as she turned to look at the source of the voice, having forgotten in her blissful mode of self-pity that she wasn't alone.

"Your refill," Ron replied, pushing a full glass her way. Adding quickly, "Hannah tried to ask you what you wanted."

"Thanks," she replied with a soft smile. Figuring the conversation was over, she turned her face back to stare at the crowd milling about and tried to use the music that was blaring in the background to bring her back to that empty place she clung to. She willed herself to avoid any lingering thoughts, that had started to crop up about the fight her and her father had been carrying on for the last three days.

"Bad day?" Ron asked as he unknowingly interrupted her journey to her blissful emptiness.

She took a sip from her glass, her eyes still on the crowd "Same as every Christmas. You?"

"Could've been a hell of a lot better."

There was something odd in his voice and it caused her to cock her head in surprise. Pansy turned her head to look at him. In all the years she had been tortured by his existence, she couldn't remember him looking so dejected.

And then

Her eyes focused on his large hands as she watched him play with his glass. First, swilling the liquor inside the glass, before taking a drink and placing it back on the table, running his fingers over the rim. Pansy found it oddly cathartic to watch him behave in the same manner, Draco had nagged her about many a time because he found it annoying.

"You have a bad Christmas every year?" he asked, staring at the glass in front of him.

"Yes," she said as she smiled a sad smile before spinning to face him. If only he knew that her smile was only from the thought of the irony of her situation – he probably would laugh. Christmas and the holidays, in general, were supposed to be a good time of year. Instead, she had a countdown marked in her calendar to help her prepare herself for the worst time of the year. "My parents host this aggravating Christmas Ball every year... I swear my mother pays men to follow me around with mistletoe. Making it one of my two least favorite days of the year."

"Should I even ask the other day?"

"New Year's Eve; when they host this slightly less aggravating New Year's Ball. At least there I only have to kiss one frog."

She watched him in awe as the smile that had started to form across his face grew even larger when he laughed. Pansy found herself marveling at him as he tossed his head causing his shaggy, long hair to flick. Jealousy grew inside her as she wished she could laugh like that, but reality came crashing down on her when she realized that she would have to enjoy life to do so. Gathering himself together, he asked, "So what are your feelings on Valentine's Day?"

"Don't ask. I'm just dreading the day my mother decides to start hosting a Valentine's Day Ball," she replied, trying to switch the course of the conversation away from her. Having grown uncomfortable about her being the focus of their conversation, she asked, "Enough about me, though. Why are you here on Christmas?"

"Same as you."

"You're hiding from my mother too?" she sassed, hoping he would laugh again.

To which she was rewarded.

"No, my mother," he explained before going quiet; as if the realization of why he was here at a bar on Christmas with the one person he probably hated as much as Draco as company suddenly dawned on him.

Pansy let him have his silence. She knew from experience that talking about your problems and your situation was vastly overrated.

After several minutes, she took a sip of her drink and momentarily lost her mind.

Offering the only olive branch she could think of, she gently told him, "I bet my mother is worse."

"I'll take that bet," Ron replied, finishing his drink and signaling for another. "What do I win?"

"I'll give you a bottle of the fire-whiskey my father gave me for Christmas. And what do I win?"

"Two tickets to the Cannons game against the Tornadoes."

"Deal," she said, grinning at the thought of two tickets to the upcoming Cannons game when she had the owner's box at her disposal. "Besides the aforementioned frogs that chase me around the ball with mistletoe, my mother spends the Christmas Ball making me dance with every eligible wizard that she invites. So I try to sneak out as soon as possible because there is no way she would actually treat me as an adult and allow me to leave with her knowledge. Well, maybe if I was married, but that is getting off topic."

"Back to the ball, though. I have to stay at least two hours or dance with ten frogs, who step on my feet and say nothing of any importance, before I leave. However, I have to be careful when I leave. Besides having to slip out undetected by her, I have to avoid my father, two sisters who find enjoyment in my pain, and all the house-elves. Oh, and then there's her friends. I have to find a way out from a house in the middle of fucking nowhere, because she insists the Christmas Ball be at the country home, undetected by all of their friends who are dying to marry me off to one of their sons."

"If after I successfully escape and my mother realizes that I'm not there, she immediately apparates to my house. If I'm there, she lets into me for leaving and is not above dragging me back to the party, where I will have a hous-elf glued to my side for the rest of the evening. However, if I'm not at my house, she thinks I've left with one of the frogs and will not pursue her search any longer. Long story short, I'm here, killing time until I can go safely home, tuck into bed, and forget this day happened yet again."

Ron whistled, "That's pretty good. But points should be deducted since you know how to escape. Anyway, mine might be a little better."

"Noted. I doubt it," she smiled, finishing her drink. "Let's hear it, Weasley."

"My mother utilized every opportunity she had today to pester me about proposing to Hermione. She was so busy pestering me that she never realized that Hermione only came over for 20 minutes before running back home to her parents, because they need her."

"My mother even had my three older brothers who know no better to not ask me about it pester me: one who lives in Romania and is more obsessed with dragons than girls; another one who is happily married, so he has turned into a little girl and thinks everyone should be as happy as he is; and then there is biggest prat of him them all who thinks he knows better than I do."

"Mind you, I have no way to escape her onslaught. I can't go to the store because it's closed and George would only keep dragging me back if I went to his apartment because torturing me has been his favorite sport since we were little."

"Oh, and my best friend? My mother only has to look at him in that certain way and he feels instantly guilty and will do her bidding. So if I go home, she will guilt him into dragging me back. Shockingly enough, he is such an awful liar that any relief Ginny can get me goes underutilized because he will cave when my mother turns to look at him. I was only able to get away when my supposed best friend and my little sister decided to leave forty minutes ago."

"So I have just spent the entire day being bugged about marrying a girl who can't seem to stand to be around me for longer than 30 minutes every few weeks."

"No offense, I still don't see how that is worse," Pansy replied. Grateful, that two drinks appeared and not one. "Points should be docked because at least you had an ally. My only possible ally thinks my situation is so hilarious that he would rather tattle on me and watch me suffer my mother's wrath then help me. In case you are wondering, he did that last year's Christmas Ball."

"Noted. But my mother," Ron continued, "is so set on me and Hermione getting married that she can't see that our relationship has been struggling for now going on two years now. Not that anyone else has paid any attention to that either. If I have to hear, 'But you belong together,' one more time from someone in my family I might actually punch something or someone."

One look at him, told Pansy that his situation was definitely worse than hers. Deep down, she knew her mother was only putting forth the matchmaking effort for appearances, where as Ron's mother was genuinely interfering and making him miserable, albeit with the best intentions. Trying her most pensive look she could muster, she wondered out loud, "Two years, you say."

"Two years."

Lifting her glass to Ron, she grinned and lied, "I concede. I'd rather deal with a matchmaking mother then one who has already picked out your children's names. You win."

"Thank you," he replied with a large smile, clinking his glass with hers.

Shaking her head slightly and a grin still on her face, she continued, "I'll have the bottle sent over tomorrow. Where do you want me to send it?"

"The store. In the evening, if you don't mind. Any earlier and George will drink it," Ron replied. "Send it to my house and my sister will drink it."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"What? Don't your siblings take your stuff for the sake of taking it?"

"My sisters are almost 8 years younger than me. I've actually never lived with them outside of an occasional holiday."

Ron shook his head, "Not everyone is so lucky."

"I know," Pansy responded before finishing her drink. She turned to see if she could flag down two more glasses and,, to her disappointment, she saw a flash of bright red hair come into the Leaky Cauldron. Turning back to face Ron, she broke the bad news to him with a forced smile, knowing she needed to exit as quickly and quietly as possible. "Well, whether you like it or not, I think your family is about to descend upon you. And I doubt you want to add any more to your misery."

Standing up, she started to pull out her share but Ron grabbed her forearm to stop her.

"My treat," he said with a smile. "Get out of here before they see you."

"Thanks," Pansy said before turning and sliding into the crowd. Like earlier, she hung her head forward enough that her shoulder length hair covered her face. Keeping her walk quick, confident and aggressive, she quickly weaved through the crowd and out of the Leaky Cauldron and onto a deserted street in Muggle London.

Pulling the hood up on her black cloak as snow began to fall again, she started to walk towards a street where she knew she could catch a cab. While she walked her mind drifted back to how she just killed a couple of drinks with a certain red-head who had irritated her throughout their time at Hogwarts together. Though he didn't seem quite as irritating as he had been in their youth.

Pansy realized that she wasn't the same person, now that she didn't have to act a certain way twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She was, however, surprised to see just how different he had become. Physically, he was even more impressive; his frame had filled out. He wasn't lanky anymore. Well in relative words. He looked like a man now – instead of a boy. And that hair. Pansy let out a chuckle, thinking about how it was way too long for a guy, but it looked good on him. It gave him a youthful, playful image while still looking like an adult. Just what he needed to run a store that catered to children and people who wanted to act like one. But there was something else that was different. He seemed vastly older than twenty-one. His eyes, especially. There seem to be more behind those blue eyes then he was letting on and that intrigued her. The Weasley she remembered had this knack of saying whatever he thought, in the most blunt and rude manner. Now he seemed to think before he spoke; making him somehow older and wiser. And definitely more dangerous.

Her mind was so far gone, thinking about him and the improbable manner in which she had spent her evening, that she didn't realize that she had walked all the way to her flat without ever flagging a cab. Shaking her head at the realization that she had let her mind wander so badly, she desperately tried not to think of how much danger she put herself in. She figured that at least she had finish killing an appropriate amount of time, to safely arrive at her flat.

Seeing her bright crimson door, which Draco kept begging her to change, she quickly climbed the stairs to the front door and disappeared inside. Upon putting her cloak in the entry closet she frowned as she caught a glimpse at Draco's evening cloak already hanging. With a couple quick flicks of her wrist, she transformed her boots into flats and her belt instantly became a floor length satin black skirt that coordinated with the black halter top she had on and hid her jeans. Anyone who had seen her earlier at the ball would not know that she hadn't been dressed this way all evening.

Regardless, she wasn't in any hurry to experience the attack she anticipated from Draco who found her suffering at the hands of her parents enjoyable. After lingering as long as she could in the hall, she lazily made her way into the kitchen, which was oddly the first room one entered in her flat and set about making a cup of cocoa.

She was about to turn and head into the front parlor and up the stairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom, when she heard Draco's lazy voice in its naturally cruel manner. "I'm impressed. For once, I didn't see you leave."

Pansy shook her head before turning around to face him. Leaning back against the counter, she nonchalantly gripped the mug with two hands, "I don't know what you mean," she replied before taking a sip.

"Yes you do," he continued, leaning up against the door frame. "You haven't lasted past ten at the Christmas Ball since we were twelve. Except for maybe last year, so where did you go?"

"What's it to you as long as I was safe?" she taunted as her foot started to tap, wanting to beat that smirk off his face. However, she settled on letting her mouth run wild. "I don't belong to you anymore. In fact, I seem to recall it's the other way around these days."

Draco's face grew dark as she matched his glare with her own.

"Didn't your father teach you anything about choosing your battles," she smirked, unable to stop even if she wanted to.

"It was a simple question, not an invitation to do battle. Would you mind not tapping your bloody foot?" he growled, his hand pinching his nose.

She complied and watched him stand back up, his eyes narrowing even further, "You know, I think I liked you better when you were nothing more than a prop."

There was a time that those words would have stung, but now, she was just past caring. Pansy just continued to sip her cocoa, keeping her eyes on Draco as he struggled to keep his cool.

"You know," she started casually, feeling like twisting the knife a bit further, "I was under the impression that I still was. At least, that's what it feels like. But we can owl your mother to see if she feels the same way. Oh, wait, this wasn't how the spell was supposed to work, was it?"

Draco's thin grasp on his temper snapped at that very moment. The sound of his fist connecting with the door frame echoed through the ground floor of her flat. Pansy watched as he starred at the dent in the door frame, while opening and closing his right fist. She should have just let him have his fun and tease her but she just found herself not wanting to take it. Having spent so much time lately fighting with her father, she was unwilling to let anyone else get to the high ground before she did. .

"I'm going to bed," she started pushing away from the counter and moving across the kitchen. "Night."

Draco's eyes never left whatever he was starring at as he mumbled, "Night."

Pansy walked past him and up the stairs. She was half way up the stairs when she heard glass start to break. Sighing, she continued up the first flight. Pansy heard the furniture start to break when she started on the second flight. And as it had every time before, since they moved into this flat, Draco stopped breaking stuff by the time she finished climbing the third flight of stairs to get to her bedroom suite.

Guilt started to eat at her by that time. Pansy knew she was completely in the wrong for pushing him to this point. It had been months since she had pushed him this far.

Suddenly remembering her promise to him all those months ago, she found herself frozen in place, unable to go to her bedroom but unwilling to go back down stairs and apologize.

Sighing, Pansy took a seat on the top of the stairs. She knew what had happen years ago wasn't Draco's fault. He had been as much of a pawn in his father's twisted plan as she had been both times. No matter how many times she had tried to tell Draco over the years, he just couldn't stop feeling guilty of the damage done to her and, when her temper got the better of her, she couldn't bring herself to let him forget it.

No matter how much she adored the man who had been her everything for so long.

A/N: beta'd by the wonderful AlexandriaMalfoy