A/N: Big thanks and hugs go to my wonderful beta reader, Celestial Melody. This one shot was written for the Winter Tales challenge on the Beta Boards, for Slytherin house.

Disclaimer: Pansy and Draco are wonderful creations of J.K. Rowling. I only own the plot.

Porcelain Doll

Pansy examined herself carefully in the full-length mirror as a silvery tear trickled slowly down her cheek. She brushed the tell-tale drop away shamefully, her lower lip quivering slightly, as she tried to hold back the torrential tears that were threatening her forced tranquillity.

Finally, as if poise no longer could control her turbulent emotions, she collapsed in tears. Pansy wept for the girl she’d been; she sobbed because of the pain she felt each time she looked at the disgusting reflection she alone saw, the reflection of a body that did not exist, a body that had become nothing more than a disturbing phantasm over the past few months. But this horrifying image wasn’t what Pansy saw every time she looked in the mirror. Instead of bones and skin, she saw a sickening, bloated figure – the barest imprint of a strange girl who existed superficially in one person’s imaginary world – her world.

Weeks ago, Pansy had laughed at other girls who were obsessed with the way they looked. She had laughed at them in her carefree way, because she knew she would never sink to that level of fatuity. However, she knew now that the line separating the normal world from the other – the world no one ever talked about – that line was too thin to be noticed; once she’d trodden beyond that point, there would be no going back.

Before she had realised it, Pansy had been sucked into that horrifying whirlpool – a whirlpool over which she had no control; she had crossed the line.

Gradually, Pansy’s tears dried, and as she squinted at the hollow dormitory, she felt the chill in the air, a bone-chilling cold that was enhanced by her loneliness, leaving a bitter, burning sensation in the pit of her stomach. Again, she stole a glance at the mirror in front of her, and immediately turned away, sickened. Pansy could taste bile in her mouth as she thought of the torment she had been undergoing these past few weeks.

*

For Pansy, each day meant living through another one of self-torture and hatred. Each day the sun shone dazzlingly through her dormitory window, but for her it glared too brightly; it hurt her eyes. In the sunlight she could see all her physical defects, as could everyone else, she was absolutely sure of that. Even as she tried to hide her body, she tried to stifle her jealousy whenever she looked at those other girls. Those girls were perfect, with perfect silky hair and perfect, trim bodies. They never seemed to worry about what they ate in order to stay slim; they never seemed to worry at all as they laughed with their friends or flirted confidently with the guys.

When Pansy went down for breakfast she would observe what was heaped on the other students’ plates, gather the energy she needed to laugh falsely along with her friends, and then evanesce from the Great Hall, light-headed – having eaten nothing to keep her going throughout the day.

But when she’d fainted in the ladies’ once after breakfast, she realised she could not continue skipping breakfast and missing dinner, excusing herself due to an upset stomach or the pile of homework waiting to be finished in the common room. Soon they’d started asking questions. Why, Pansy? Why? Deep down, some of them might have guessed the reason behind Pansy’s strange behaviour, but they were afraid to voice their suppositions, fearing the moment when Pansy’s guilty expression would confirm the truth behind the humbling rumours. Pansy hated the knowing looks on their faces as they looked at her and nodded gravely, not even bothering to do so behind her back.

Now Christmas was coming. It was that time of the year when Pansy felt the happiest and the most loved. How could she not be happy when she received endless hugs, kisses, and presents from Draco?

When he would put his arms around her waist to wish her a happy Christmas, she would see the jealousy shining in the other girls’ eyes, and Pansy would smirk and raise her eyebrows haughtily, turning her face up for a tender kiss.

But this year was different. Draco was expressing no affection towards her whatsoever. He was too caught up in his own problems, and Pansy wasn’t used to the lack of attention.

*

As she recalled Draco’s last conversation — if one could call it that — with her, the hot tears again pooled in her eyes. Pansy angrily brushed away the blinding tears with her sleeve, determined to persevere. However, after giving up the idea of stoicism as useless, she fell numbly to her knees. She put her arms around her body fiercely, as though she wanted to remember the warm feeling of a hug.

Suddenly, the door burst open, bringing Pansy back to reality — and her feet — as she tried to regain her proud posture. The newcomers, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, ceased their cheery chatter and froze mid-step. Tracey gasped audibly and quickly covered her rosebud mouth with a perfectly-manicured hand.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Pansy!� Daphne’s tone of exasperation rang loudly in Pansy’s ears, as the irate girl quickly helped Pansy onto a bed, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks as though they were flickers of fire.

Pansy could understand why her housemates had reacted as they had; she would have done the same if it were her walking into the dormitory, discovering a sobbing girl prostrate on the floor. But right now, Pansy despised the fact that Slytherins were brought up to fear any occurrence in which they might dishonour their pureblood families or their house with what they did or said. She wanted to scream at her housemates to leave her alone, just as she wanted to try and make them understand that not all girls are as strong and dauntless as they appear on the outside. Pansy did not want to be this overwhelming porcelain doll she was turning into because porcelain dolls break easily.

Even then, though she was terrified, Pansy refused to talk about her situation. Secretly, the other girls were glad they didn’t have to listen to what was surely going to be another emotional breakdown over some guy who had turned Pansy down. In fact, they were quite happy to pretend they had never seen her crying at all.

*

It was Christmas Eve, and Hogwarts had never felt warmer despite the freezing temperature and snowdrifts piled high outside its walls. For the last time, Pansy stayed at school for the holidays, since her parents covertly believed it was safer than their own home – not that they would ever admit that, of course.

The Slytherin common room was buzzing with activity as laughing people, their eyes sparkling mischievously, dashed in and out of the dormitories, clutching colourfully-wrapped gifts secretively to their chests. Pansy looked around, merely observing the others as various housemates examined what they had bought from Hogsmeade that morning or played foul games of Wizards’ Chess.

Her eyes scanned the room for Draco, but a quick glance was enough to tell her that he was missing. If he were there, he would have made sure that everyone’s attention was focused on him.

Realising eventually that Draco was not going to appear, Pansy stood abruptly and left the boisterous common room, thoroughly tired of the mind-rattling voices of her housemates. Moments later, she found herself shivering in the damp of the dungeon corridors. Pansy wandered aimlessly through the dark recesses of the catacombs until she reached the steps leading to upper Hogwarts. Taking the steps slowly, Pansy stared dully at the ground, not really thinking about anything at all. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her big toe as it contacted one of the heavy stone steps she was climbing; with a grimace, Pansy crouched to rub her foot, and as she rose, found herself barely sixty centimetres from a landing. As she stood, breathing deeply the fresh winter air stealing through a cracked window, she heard someone call out her name. Turning sharply, Pansy stared narrow-eyed into the shadowed corridor. From beneath a mask of darkness, Draco’s face was barely visible.

“Oh.� Pansy was surprised to find her absent boyfriend lurking in the corridor, but once he spoke, she realised how very glad she was that he had found her.

“I thought you might like to go to the feast with me tonight,� he muttered, his drawling voice devoid of any emotion.

Pansy’s flat stomach churned at the thought of being tempted to eat, but attending the Christmas feast with Draco in less than two hours was something she did not want to miss, especially since this could mean he was beginning to take interest in her again, even if he did not sound particularly ecstatic about it.

As Draco stared at her, his pale eyes veiled, Pansy agreed, smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks.
*

Back in her dormitory, Pansy wondered obsessively what to wear, compulsively paging through the new, expensive garments her parents had sent her as an early Christmas treat. Finally, she decided on a plain black dress and mink fur coat while trying hard to ignore the thick body glaring at her from the mirror; so great was her delusion, Pansy had been blinded to the fact that clothes seemed to hang from her, making every jutting bone noticeable.

*

Pansy stared miserably around the Great Hall, like an outsider in a new world she could never be part of. Next to her at the Slytherin table, she could vaguely hear her housemates laughing loudly at one of Draco’s dirty jokes. It was the second joke of the evening, and this time she did not even pretend to laugh.

Instead, Pansy turned her gaze to her plate, which would have been empty if not for the bed of crisp lettuce and several red tomatoes that lay neatly to the edge of the silver plate, untouched. As she gloomily contemplated the revolting salad, Pansy suddenly felt Draco’s reassuring hand on her pencil-thin thigh, as though he knew all about her inner battle.

“Eat something,� he whispered in her ear.

This time Draco didn’t sound so distant, and Pansy wondered if she could sense a note of concern in his voice. She hoped so; oh, fervently, she prayed that he was paying attention to her again. Desperate to keep his attention on her, she shook her head slowly and smiled, saying she wasn’t hungry tonight because she had eaten too much in Hogsmeade that morning. Draco’s unconvinced stare should have told her that he didn’t believe her, but Pansy chose not to see the quizzical look.

Draco stood up from the table, then, halfway through his meal, took her hand as gently as he could, though Pansy’s bony hand was lost in his, and led her from the Great Hall to the fairy-lit gardens.

Pansy knew he was going to ask what was wrong with her. She did not want him to ask because she would never admit he was the reason she was feeling so forlorn. Pansy knew how hard Draco was searching for the right words to say; careful not to ask too much, in case he not only broke the porcelain mask plastered carefully on her face, but the porcelain encasing her body as well. At every question he asked, she merely shook her head and smiled hollowly, wishing desperately that she could pour her heart out to him, but feeling it was impossible. No one could possibly understand. Somehow, Pansy wondered if she wanted them to understand.

Draco’s patience did not last long.

“Look at you, Pansy!� Draco shouted. “You look lifeless!�

Pansy never heard what else he said after that. The truth hit her like a slap in the face; Draco had stabbed her at the place where he knew it would hurt the most. Pansy felt herself shaking, not with rage, but with the weight of solitude and misery that immediately descended upon her at Draco’s frustrated cry. But the lump in her throat and the stinging tears behind her eyelids told her that she had yet to cry; God forbid she should do so in front of him. No one must see her cry.

Searching for the energy and courage to scream back at him, Pansy realised that she had none left in her weary body. Hardly daring to blink for fear of bursting into tears, Pansy turned her gaze to her waxy, motionless hands lying in her lap; she felt like a small child who had been shouted at by an adult for playing outdoors in the pouring rain. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t. But when she looked up to tell Draco that she was all right, perfectly fine, really, he was gone.

*

Little more than one week later, Pansy found herself again in the gardens. It was another glittering night, and there was yet another celebration taking place in the Great Hall, but Pansy stood alone in the darkest corner of the extensive gardens. As a particularly loud burst of laughter sounded from the Great Hall, Pansy bowed her head and, folding her arms to her body, walked to the edge of the gardens. She gazed at the frozen black lake one-hundred meters from the castle, but didn’t appreciate its forbidding beauty. Sighing tiredly, Pansy crept from the garden, slipping noiselessly through a small space in the hedge. The bitter wind whipped against her face as she walked away from the castle, towards the lake. She quickly got used to the numb feeling in her body caused from the winter chill. It was no surprise; she was cold all the time anyway.

Distantly, Pansy could hear the faint sounds of laughter and celebration coming from the Great Hall. That celebration and feast, for all the other students, was the only occasion that marked the end of the year. But time was insignificant for Pansy. No new year would ever bring her joy again.

She was tired; her head was spinning and the sharp pain in her stomach was a constant reminder her of the battle she had yet to win. For the thousandth time she wondered if she would ever reach perfection.

The road to perfection is too rough to attain and porcelain dolls break from the pressure of it.

As she stared blankly at the black lake, the star-strewn surface reflecting in her glassy eyes, Pansy heard someone whisper her name quietly. The voice was so soft; it might have been nothing more than a gust of winter wind, but she knew he was there. She could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck.

Draco would never say he was sorry; Pansy wasn’t waiting for him to apologise verbally, but she knew that that was what he meant when he took her in his arms and stroked her brittle hair. For a moment he simply held her, then he pushed her away from him slightly and examined her body. Under Draco’s scrutinising gaze, Pansy shifted uneasily in his arms.

“Why are you feeling so awkward, Pansy?� he murmured, looking intently into her eyes.

“I-I don’t,� she stuttered, biting her lip nervously, and then falling silent in confusion.

A few uncomfortable moments passed before he broke the silence.

“You are-� he paused, his voice suddenly roughening in embarrassment. Draco then hesitated as if unsure of himself, an occurrence that was extremely unusual. Pansy continued to stare at the ground beneath her feet as Draco cleared his throat and muttered, “You are beautiful as you are.�

Pansy raised her eyes hesitantly to his proud face, searching hungrily for hints of sarcasm, but there were none. Never had she heard Draco praising anyone. She wondered if he truly meant it. But she couldn’t think of a reason why he would pretend to compliment her if he didn’t really mean it.

“I never liked stick-thin girls. Some more flesh would look better. Feel better, too,� he added as he planted a kiss on her neck at the sunken spot just below her graceless, jutting collarbone.

Despite the kiss, Pansy immediately tensed; shame and hunger stinging her stomach, as she turned to face the lake. She felt faint and had to hold onto Draco’s encircling arms to prevent an untimely fall into the icy lake.

“I’m not that thin,� she denied predictably.

Draco raised his pale gold eyebrows. “Yes, you are. Look, I can easily get my hand around your upper arm,� he insisted, putting his words into action.

Pansy looked down at her arm, somewhat taken aback at how easily Draco’s hand did fit around her arm. At that moment, Pansy began to see what she had not let herself notice for months. But so engrained was her habit of self-abuse, it was hard for her to believe that this was not just another illusion. She did not want to believe how thin her arm really was, but still she nodded as though she understood, merely so she would see that half-smile appear on his handsome face, if only for a fraction of a second.

“Come on, the best part of the feast isn’t over yet. Let’s celebrate together and eat dessert,� Draco said, grinning, as he gently pulled her away from the lake and led her back to the warmth of the Great Hall.

*

Once again, Pansy found herself sitting at the familiar Slytherin table; she looked sceptically at the sugary food stacked in fantastic tiers and shapes in front of her, as her inner self screamed desperately for her to refuse it. She’d come this far; why quit while ahead? As if in conscious rebellion and indignation, Pansy picked up a silver fork. Her hand shook slightly as she reached for a slim slice of plum pudding. Once the slice was shimmering prettily on her plate, she looked down at it, and then at Draco, who gave her a reassuring nod. Pansy closed her eyes, willing herself not to feel guilty as she delicately sliced off a bit and, raising the morsel to her mouth, swallowed a small piece of it gently.

At that moment, as the delicious delight slid down her throat, Pansy knew she didn’t want to travel the rough road that led to perfection. The beginning of such a journey had left her feeling empty inside; numb because of her fear of rejection and imperfection, fear of the world she hadn’t yet had the chance to experience.

It was always difficult to stop bad little traits, Pansy instinctively knew, and this months-long experience would not leave her unmarked. There had always been a secret satisfaction in refusing food at dinnertime, or leaving it untouched on her plate, but the outcome was too bitter to bear. Ten times a day, Pansy would weigh herself on the scales, and she would not see how much weight she had lost, but how much there was still to conquer. But Pansy was strong. She was going to use the same determination that had led her to stop eating, but this time it was going to be used to destroy the porcelain girl that had taken over her mind and body; she would succeed in divulging her old, familiar self, the one who laughed and loved and rose her eyebrows haughtily at those less fortunate than she.

*

Later that night, Pansy stood in front of her full-length mirror, examining every inch of her skeletal body. She could almost see how frighteningly thin she was.

As she stood there, bare but for her underwear, Pansy smiled reassuringly at her reflection. She would conquer this frightening disease. Deep down inside her, inside the Pansy that had been buried for so long, pity arose in her stomach for those other girls who had not yet realised that there was so much more to them than superficiality, so much more than porcelain.


~Fin