Title: To Love a Muggle

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: PG-13 maybe?

Characters: Pansy, Draco, Pansy's Parents, an OC (Albert Williams-what a boring name **didn't have internet while I wrote this to find a better name for the poor guy**)

Pairings: Mentioned Past!Pansy/Draco (I should call the pairing "Paco"), Onesided Pansy/Draco, Pansy/OC

Summary: When Draco left Pansy, something inside of her cracked. When Pansy fell for someone she was forbidden to love, everything changed. There's no going back now, she knows that, and sometimes she regrets what she did.

Word Count: 2,414

Warnings/Spoilers: Some language and maybe minor spoilers for after Deathly Hollows (if you count Draco not marrying Pansy a spoiler).

Disclaimer: I don't have an English accent, so I obviously don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does.

The whir of the ceiling fan filled the air as slender fingers deftly flicked the wand, sending objects zooming around the room as they dutifully preformed the tasks they'd been commanded to do. Water gushed from the faucet as the dishes washed themselves, the soup simmering on the stove stewed itself while the biscuit batter plopped itself into a mixing bowl in preparation for the oven. All in all, much work was being done in the kitchen and none of it was being performed by the trim little lady perched on the counter.

She sat with her legs crossed at the ankles, boredly flicking through some gossip magazine, occasionally glancing up to right a wrong in the work being carried out in the kitchen. Sighing, she leant back against the wall, tossing the magazine into a trashcan that passed by.

Her dark hair was cropped short and the prim apron tied around her middle led one at, first glance, to believe that she was but an ordinary housewife.

Appearances could be deceiving.

She'd never believed she of all people would wind up traveling down this path. She'd always been told she'd do great things-despite her rather mediocre grades-because she was a pureblood Slytherin. She'd expected herself to have gone on to work in the Ministry, marry an affluent pureblood like herself, live in an impressive mansion with plenty of house elves to wait on her hand and foot. That was what she'd always thought her life would be like.

Fate could be a bitch.

The old Pansy Parkinson had been raised to believe that blood traitors, Muggle Borns, and especially Muggles were the equivalence of the chewed up gum on the bottom of your shoe, the disease-ridden scum you'd see in the bad part of town, lurking in the alley. She'd been instructed to look down on them, scowl at them over her perfect pure-blood nose.

And she had fully accepted that.

…that is, fully accepted that until her magnificent, perfect, pure-blooded boyfriend dumped her after the Second Wizarding War. The war had changed him, changed his views. She conflicted with darling Draco's new self far too much for him to continue to be with her.

She'd never truly gotten over him. In fact, she still harbored secret feelings for him.

She loved him too much to lose him. It had broken her, ripped her heart to shreds when he'd left her.

She'd turned her back on the Wizarding world, the way of the pure-blood because it was their fault that he'd left her (or at least that's what she told herself). And then, somehow, in the midst of all her moping, she'd met someone else, someone sweet, funny, handsome, intelligent, generous, loyal, honest-all in all a wonderful man that had made Pansy's heart do flips in the beginning. He was almost as wonderful as Draco. There was only one problem…

He was muggle.

But the past was the past. She'd already made her mistake-being with him. She'd been tossed out, disowned, treated like she'd been led to believe she was supposed to treat blood traitors and muggle borns and muggles. And she regretted it-not that anyone needed to know. No use dwelling on it now.

Leaping off the counter, she journeyed across the kitchen, taking care not to disturb any of the going-on's as she made her way on over to the front door. She had to be sneaky when she dared use magic. Albert didn't know about the Wizarding world and he sure as hell didn't need to find out about it.

All couples had secrets. This was one of her little secrets from him.

Standing on her tip-toes, she peered out of the peep hole. It was almost six, he'd be home soon. Sure enough, just seconds after the thought passed through her mind, blinding lights lit up the driveway and the creaking and groaning that sounded outside signaled the rising of the garage door.

Racing back to the kitchen, Pansy grasped her wand from where she left it on the counter, and with a quick wave, the work ceased.

Just in time too.

"Honey, I'm home!" called a deep, lighthearted voice from the hall.

Pansy forced a laugh, strained a smile. "You sound like one of those husbands's on TV."

"That's what I was aiming for." Arms snaked around the slender waist before pulling her close, a chaste kiss pressed against her lips. "So what's for dinner, darlin'?"

Pansy rolled her eyes, pushing him gently away. "Really? Food? Is that all you care about?" she teased. "No, 'how was your day Pansy'? No, 'oh how I missed you while I was away at work my dearest love'?" The playful banter they exchanged on a daily basis always worked to lift her mood.

Chuckling, he dropped to one knee, reaching to clutch one of her hands in his own. "Oh my love, I am so very sorry! I yearned for your presence you greatly while I was away! Let us kiss so as to make up for my absence!" he cried dramatically, visibly struggling to hold back his gales of laughter. Pansy rolled her eyes again.

"Oh, quiet you." She whacked him over the head, turning to stir the pot on the stove. "Now shoo! Go watch your game or something, I'm not done yet." With a rushed peck on her head he was off, the rowdy shouting that spewed from the other room signaled that the television had indeed been turned on to the sports channel and that her husband was probably already immersed in his game.

Sighing, she put down her spoon. She'd lied. The food was done, but there was one more thing she had to do, one thing she most certainly did not want her husband to watch.

Turning off the stove, she headed upstairs.


It wasn't often a boggart would take up residence in the home of a Muggle. However, seeing as one member of the household was secretly a witch, it didn't surprise her in the least that a boggart was currently calling her bedside table home. In fact, it surprised her that one hadn't appeared earlier.

With a sigh, she locked the door from inside, taking extra precaution to shove a chair up against it as a barricade. She didn't want Albert to witness this. She didn't want to think of what would happen if he did…

Turning, she warily approached the home of the creature, nervously fiddling with the cuffs of her sweater as she went. It had been years (decades) since she'd last faced a boggart (or any other magical creature for that matter). And needless to say her Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures skills had never been all that good. Pansy had lacked in both subjects back when she'd been a student.

She didn't even want to imagine how far her magical ability had fallen since then. The most she'd done since were simple housework spells.

A shaky hand gripped her wand tightly, knuckles turning white as she clutched the stick of wood. She was a few feet away, but one effortless spell was all it took to fling the drawer open and release the boggart within.

Immediately it started to change. A human body began to form, followed by the features of a certain woman Pansy had cut out of her life a long time ago. Straight, dark hair shot down the woman's back, sharp blue eyes turned their rage-filled gaze on the quivering woman before her. A scowl twisted the rather pretty features.

"You!" she hissed, eyes ablaze. "You little brat, I thought I told you to get out! You damn blood traitor! You filthy-blooded hag!"

Pansy's mother advanced on her, shrieking insults at her once beloved daughter. "Running off with a fucking muggle! I would've understood a half-blood, maybe another blood traitor, but a fucking muggle! Those things are trash, Pansy! And to think I called you a pureblood." Hateful eyes pierced unfortunate Pansy. Shaking she gripped the wand tighter, raising it to eye level. "To think I think I even considered you my daughter."

"R-ridic-" she was sweating, trembling with fear. Not again. Please, not again.

"And also!" cut off her mother, "Why couldn't you have married that Malfoy boy? He was from a respectable family. But nooo, I guess you're just like your bloody muggle husband-filth! You've just proved to all of us," at this the woman gestured wildly to the imaginary crowd, "that you're nothing but worthless fucking garbage."

"R-ridiculous!" she shouted. With a crack, the witch was gone. Pansy heaved a sigh of relief. It worked! It actually worked!

But alas, she spoke to soon. For as soon as she began to congratulate herself on her victory, another person took the place of her mother.

A dark haired man, tall and strong, peered down scrutinizingly through a pair of half-rimmed glasses. Rather than incensed like her mother, however, Pansy's father appeared disdainful and stony. Her father had always been the cold, calculating type.

"Pansy Elizabeth Parkinson. Or should I say Pansy Elizabeth Williams." he began, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. A shiver ran down Pansy's spine. "We told you not to. Do you remember when you were little? From day fucking one we told you to stay away from that damn trash. And what do you do? Run off with one of them like the fucking whore you are!"

Pansy froze, stunned. Her father had only once used such language with her when he was this upset-and it had been over this exact subject. As he grew angrier, voice growing louder as his language became coarser and his wrath more profound, she found herself wanting to run away, cower under the covers as though she was still a little girl and he the monster under her bed. A tear trickled down her cheek, shoulders shaking as she forced back the torrent that threatened to break through. Why couldn't they accept her?

Finally she lifted her hand.


She voiced the spell stronger than before. With a crack, the figure was gone, only to be replaced by another. No surprise there.

However, the person that took shape did indeed surprise her, shaking her to the core.

"So Pansy," he sneered, face distorted with scorn. "Seems you ran off with a fucking Muggle. Really? Best you could do? Well, I guess nothing can compare to me. I am the best, but a muggle? Jeez Pansy, seems I was right dumping you."

He was undoubtedly younger, more cocky and rude than she remembered (probably because she'd been so enamored by him in her youth), but was Draco Malfoy nonetheless. The perpetual sneer, the haughty demeanor, the slicked back blonde hair were all trademarks of young Draco, instantly causing memories of her Hogwarts years to come rushing back to her. All of which were spent with him.

Tears flowed freely now, body wracking with sobs as the boy she once (no, still) loved ridiculed her. In a twisted sense, she felt she deserved it. She understood the mistake she'd made when she fell in love with Albert (and let it be known she'd tried her hardest to squash her feelings for him)-but really, was it so bad? Was it so bad that she'd fallen for someone without an ounce of magical blood in them?

Deep down, she knew it was.

But she hadn't been able to help it, and it had caused her downfall.

"Honey? Are you alright? I hear voices-is someone upstairs?" drifted Albert's voice from downstairs. Hurried footsteps sounded as he started for the bedroom. That brought her back to her senses. She had to finish this, and she had to finish it now.

"Honey? I'm freaking out-answer me!"

She lifted her head, watery eyes flashing. Fuck them, fuck them all. So what, she'd screwed up. Just leave me alone was what the little voice in the back of her head screamed. Drawing her wand, she pointed it squarely at Draco's face. Sure, conquering the boggart wouldn't solve all of her problems, but it was a start.

"I'm coming up!" Feet pounded up the stairs.

"Useless slut!" the fake snarled, "You bloody bitch! Trash!" A derisive cackle tore itself from his throat as the footsteps broke into a sprint, down the hall to the room at the end.


"Can't believe I dated you, you piece of shit! Your nothing but trash! And you married even more fucking trash!"


With a blinding flash and a thunderous bang the boggart was gone, leaving nothing behind but the open drawer as evidence of its existence.

Crossing the room, Pansy crouched down and shut the door softly, wiping away the traces of tears on her sweater sleeve as Albert began to desperately bang on the door.

"Pansy? Are you alright? Open up! Please-I'm begging you!" Albert pleaded, worry lacing his words. Well at least someone cared-even if he was just a 'filthy Muggle'.

The door was swiftly opened to reveal Pansy, who was immediately bombarded with questions.

"Are you alright? I heard voices. Was someone up here? Was he threatening you? I swear I'll kill the bastard!" A slender finger pressed against his lips.

"Sorry I didn't answer, really caught up in one of my television shows." Albert looked as though a weight was being lifted off his shoulders, relaxing visibly.

"Must've been some damn good actors-sounded way too real to me." He frowned, eyeing her slowly and carefully so as not to miss a single detail. Tear tracks were still faintly noticeable, as was the redness to her eyes. Albert tensed up again, concern filling hazel eyes. A tender hand lifted to cup her cheek. "Pansy…are you sure? You've been crying…honey, you know you can tell me anything."

No I can't.

"I know," she stated, pulling away. "And I'm fine. Really." Lips forced themselves up in a smile, quick to change the subject. "Now I bet the food's ready-let's go eat."

From the frown on his face, she could tell he didn't believe her. But that was alright. Taking his hand, she led him downstairs. They'd been together through other things, other secrets-and he hadn't always believed her little lies. But that was alright. They managed every time.

And just so long as she managed to hide her past, they'd be fine. Because he loved her, and she probably loved him back-just not nearly as much.

And that's all that mattered.

What is this shit? Oh God that ending…Oh God that attempt at writing romance...Oh God that title...Oh God that story...OH WELL TO BAD SO SAD NUGH.

Ok, I realize that everyone **coughPansyandDracocough** are horribly OOC but they needed to be for this story (Pansy needed to be all in love with a Muggle with contradicts horribly with her whole character and Draco needed to be a bigger bastard than usual **is actually a Draco fangirl and doesn't particularly like Pansy**). This is what happens when I'm bored and take a shower. Strange ideas happen, that's what. I just thought, y'know, Pansy really liked Draco. I'm sure she wanted to marry him, but he dumped her after the war 'cause he was changed and all. So it kind of made her crack and then she fell for a Muggle and all sorts of shit happened.

I don't even know.