📜Crumpled drawings

She had black hair and the same eyes. The pencil left a long, dark stroke on the paper and carefully traced the line of the eyebrows. Draco frowned slightly and confidently erased part of the slate-pencil with an eraser. Her eyes became sparkled. They were damn attractive, they contained a mystery that so eagerly seeks romance and that passionately wants to get collectors of girls' hearts. She was alive. Draco tore a leaf out and crushed it. The paper went into the trash. — Insendio. A portrait of a nameless girl burned in a bucket. The fire engulfed the beautiful features, distorting, blackening, devouring them. He was hungry — this fire. Draco hadn’t fed him for a month. This girl was the third. A new mistake means a new scar. The portraits of the Greengrass sisters, two charming and pure-blooded girls, one of whom Lucius would really like to see as the mistress of Malfoy Manor, burned in a black bucket. Draco wanted to believe that everything would be so simple. But his dreams crumbled into ashes, leaving two narrow, deep scars on his chest. Because none of the girls were not the one. Draco Malfoy was looking for a soulmate. He has six tries left. The first — Astoria — cried in pain when a thin scar disfigured her chest. She ran away, forgetting her stockings — a strange useless item that, by the way, looked good on paper. The second — Daphne — already had a scar on her shoulder, so the second one upset her, but made not surprised. She calmly dressed, smiled sadly at Draco, picked up her sister’s stockings and left the room. Her portrait burned quickly, flashing with a bright blaze and falling into ash. Draco didn’t even remember drawing it. This third mistake was his first love. He had high hopes for her, but these hopes were now burning out in the bucket. — Knock Knock. Can I come to you? The door to the boys' room opened slightly, letting Pansy in. — Did you draw? She came and sat down on his bed, slightly moving the notebook. — I’m drawing. Why did you had come? Pansy was in no hurry to answer. She looked at her best friend with a slow, thoughtful look. A new scar appeared on his forearm. Everyone here knew what this meant. — Unlucky again? Draco clenched his teeth. — Don’t be angry, — Pansy looked away just not to embarrass him. — You and I were friends back in childhood, we have too much in common to fight over scars. Would you like me to show you mine? — Do you also have?.. — Everyone has. Well, maybe except for Granger, — Pansy giggled. — Girls says she’s still… — Spare me the rumors, Pansy, — he grimaced. Of all the girls in this world, the last one he wanted to hear about was Granger. — As you say, — she shrugged. — Anyway, that’s not why I came. Putting down his pencil, Draco leaned against the headboard, showing his attention with all his appearance. Pansy kneaded her own sleeve with her fingers and for some reason bit her lip. — What is so terrible you want to tell me? Don’t take it as a compliment, Pansy, but this is the first time I’ve seen you so shy. The girl chuckled and shrugged her shoulders nervously. She definitely seemed making a hard desicion right now. — Well, this is the first time I’ve approached you with such a conversation. Draco looked at her carefully and considered the variants. — If you’re talking about Blaze, I advise you to try it. He asked about you too. — Blaze? — She released her sleeve. — No, I’m here to talk about you. — Why? — Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. Pansy could actually see the thoughts swirling around in his head. She couldn’t say it out loud and now she just waited. She waited for him to figure it out on his own, freeing her from the heavy burden of confession. — Wait, did I understand correctly?.. — Yes, I think you understood correctly. — Pansy tried to look confident, but she understood perfectly well: at this moment their friendship was hanging over the abyss. The proposal she came with could ruin everything, and so she chose her words especially carefully. — Draco, I’ve thought it over. You and I have been friends since early childhood. You know all my secrets, I know yours. We are at the same faculty, our parents are still considering the possibility of our engagement. What if all this is a sign that we are soulmates? I’m not insisting on, but just think about it. If anyone else had said those words, Draco would have laughed in their face. Well, really, are they could be a couple? He pulled her out of troubles, sometimes he pushed her into them, listened to her cry over a girl (“if you tell someone, I’ll kill you!”), and taught her to kiss “for real”. Pansy was “his guy,” his best friend with whom he could get drunk, have a bad fight and make up the next morning, but he never considered her as a woman. After all, she did look like a pug. — I don’t know, Pans. This is… strange to me. She nodded slowly, looking away. A pure-blood, intelligent girl, brought up in the traditions of her family, she must be very ashamed now. Although her proposal had its own logic: no one knows by what principle they find their soulmate. So why not a friendship? Draco made his decision. — …But there is meaning in your words. Let’s try. You don’t have any other variants, do you? — Yes. Well, if only Blaise, — she grimaced. — But you know what a scoundrel he can be. I don’t even want to try. — You can be a scoundrel sometimes too, you know. — Oh, when you finally forget… — Never. — Draco reached out and began to untie her tie. — Why did you freeze? Help me. — What, right here and right now? — Pansy grinned, pushed his hand away and untied the tie herself. — Are you sure? — Why wait? Just don’t forget to cast Muffliato. — You overestimate yourself. — Let’s see.

***

…Pansy wasn’t the one. A short but wide scar cut across her stomach, leaving blood on the sheets. A heavy silence hung in the room. — Sorry, — Pansy said finally. — I had to check. — It’s OK. It wasn’t OK. They wasted another try. Pansy has three tries left. Draco has five. — Will you draw my portrait? — she asked. It was his secret — one of those that only Pansy knew. He always painted the most significant moments of his life. It seemed very right to him to remember every important page, to draw every episode — and then burn it. To free, to cleanse with fire, leaving only ashes of memories. — Yes, I’ll draw your portrait, Pansy. — Draw me now. She silently rolled over onto her stomach, exposing her back. Draco reached for his pencil. The sketch came out gray and featureless. There was an air of hopelessness about him. A gray girl on gray sheets, with a wide smooth back and hair scattered across the pillow, laying and hiding her face, and clenching her fingers into a fist. Draco crumpled the drawing. — Save it, please. — Pansy turned her head. — I don’t want to leave your life. We still can be friends, right? With a habitual gesture, he threw the pathetic lump, but not into the bucket — at his friend. — Take it for yourself. — Thank you. Carefully straightening the piece of paper, she pointed her wand at it. The corners straightened out and the pattern recovered. — You could be a wonderful painter, Draco. — Of course. “But what for?” — he thought. Pansy sighing, then stood up and got dressed. As she left, she closed the door soundlessly. She still had Blaise. Draco had no one else.