Once, there was a handsome youth. His radiant yellow hair shone in the sun, and his grey eyes were keen and deep. His beauty was so great, that all the girls who saw him longed to be his, but he would have none of them. He was vain, arrogant, and infatuated with his own reflection. His name was Draco Malfoy. Draco had girls thrusting themselves at his feet. But even the loveliest were bypassed without the slightest remorse. He trod on the hearts that paved the golden streets of his world. Despite his cruel apathy, many still loved him. But the girl that loved him best was Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy was not the prettiest of girls. Her blonde hair, though curly, framed a pug-face with discerning eyes and round ears, best for catching bits of juicy gossip fodder. She was a favorite of Professor Sinistra, the astronomy teacher. But despite this false protection, Pansy encouraged the wrath of a still mightier witch, Hermione Granger, who was jealously attempting to spy on Ron Weasley, who she believed was in love with Lavender Brown. As Hermione rushed through the corridors, she was distracted from her investigation by Pansy’s snide comments. Although Pansy was not beautiful herself, she prided herself in being fairer than Hermione. As they sparred, Ron and Lavender, emerging from a broom closet, stole away to a new location. Hermione raged against Pansy, condemning her to never use her tongue again, except to repeat all that was said to her.

“You will now speak when spoken to,” Hermione crowed. “And you will always have the last word; but never shall you have the power to speak first.”

“Speak first,” Pansy uttered. Clasping her hands over her mouth, tears seeped from her eyes, and Pansy ran through the halls blindly.

“Miss Parkinson,” a voice said, cold and deep. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” Pansy repeated, turning to face the speaker, her Head of House, Professor Snape.

Snape sneered. “I am asking you what you are doing. Do not talk back.”

“Do not talk back,” Pansy echoed. She looked to him, her eyes pleading. But Professor Snape was cold-hearted and had no sympathy for Pansy’s plight. Instead, he glowered and bestowed upon her a detention for being disrespectful.

Pansy wanted to cry, and did. But her tears were silent as she roamed. She could no longer rely on her wit to win Draco over. And that was all she had to offer him. She would now be another lovelorn maiden, without hope. She could not talk to him; he would never notice her now.

One day, she stumbled upon him near the lake. He was sitting by the water’s edge, looking particularly irritable, yet oh-so-handsome, with his lower lip in a slight pout.

“Merlin,” he groaned. “Crabbe and Goyle were supposed to meet me here.”

“Here,” Pansy said back, taking a chance to snatch Draco’s attention. “Here.”

“You aren’t Crabbe and Goyle, are you?” Draco asked, his voice lilting slightly.

“Are you?” Pansy coyly replied, using her handicap to her advantage.

Draco laughed, it was a haughty sound, but it made Pansy’s legs go weak with love. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, willing him to speak.

“Fair enough. Why did you come?” he asked, looking at Pansy. “To be with me?”

“Come to be with me,” Pansy echoed, dropping her voice to an enticing whisper.

“Who are you to command me?” Draco scoffed. “I would rather die than give you power over me!”

And with that he turned to face the depths of the lake, ignoring Pansy’s reply, “Give you power over me.”

Tears welled up in Pansy’s eyes, and she fled to the Forbidden Forest to hide from Draco and her unrequited love. But, little did she know that Theodore Nott, her classmate, watched from behind a willow tree. And already, a plot was concocting in his mind.

Nott loathed Draco already for his arrogance and self-love. Upon seeing his brutality towards Pansy, Nott hated him even more.

“May he who loves not others love himself,” Nott murmured. “And I shall make it so.”

Nott was a potions maven, and he was sure that Professor Snape would allow him to use some supplies from the storage room to punish Draco for his wicked ways. So, politely, Nott asked Snape if he could use some potions ingredients. Snape obliged. To this day, no one knows why he agreed, but he did nonetheless. Thus, from the storage room, Nott took a pomegranate, two dove feathers, and the powdered horn of a unicorn. Within hours, those ingredients became a potent love potion, lacking a single ingredient. One of Draco’s flaxen locks would be needed to complete the brew. So, while Draco slept soundly that night, Nott plucked three pale hairs for his potion. Once they were added to the cauldron, it turned a pearly color, and was perfect for consumption. Nott collected a sample in a vial. At the breakfast table that morning, the potion was added to Draco’s morning pumpkin juice. Draco did not notice a thing, except that the juice tasted particularly wonderful.

That afternoon, when Draco sat by the lake he caught a glimpse of his reflection, and it set his heart ablaze with love. It burned and ached as he gazed deeply into his own eyes.

“Now I know what others have suffered from me,” Draco cried out to the rippling water. “But I cannot leave.”

And enamored by his own face, Draco sat, looking lovingly for hours. He refused food and drink as he sat in solace, with only his reflection for company.

“I shall try to catch you, my beauty!” Draco declared, after thirteen hours of futile gazing. And, in a fit of madness, he lunged for his reflection and into the water.

Now, as it so happened that Draco had never been taught to swim. So, flailing helplessly, he sunk beneath the surface and drowned. Pansy, leaving the forest, saw him die, and she began to weep her silent tears, for it was the only way she could say goodbye. But as a tribute to him, Pansy planted a daffodil, a narcissus, where he had last been seen alive. She knelt beside it, and tended it until her death. When her body died, it became soil and helped the plant to continue to thrive. And her echoing voice continued to whisper all that was said by others.