Written For:

- QLFC / Round 10: Captain - Music Through the Decades/2010s: Uptown Funk — Mark Ronson ft. Bruno Mars. Note: inspired by the lifestyle the song talks about, with special focus to the Michelle Pfieffer and 'white gold' (cocaine) reference - 'uptowners' buying dodgy drugs from 'downtowners'.

Thanks to Jill for beta-ing :)

Word Count: 985

As a teenager, Pansy Parkinson had a lot of self-doubt. Though she tried to hold herself with an air of haughtiness and act like she was better than everyone, deep down she knew there wasn't much truth to it.

Unlike some of her Slytherin companions, she wasn't elegant and blessed with cavalier charms. Daphne had voluminous blonde hair that Pansy had always envied over her limp bob, and Tracey looked down her long nose at everyone with icy blue eyes. Pansy was just the one with the sharp tongue and crude insults—her only defense against the pretty girls like Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger.

But when she reached adulthood, it seemed that luck was in her favour. While Daphne and Tracey and the rest rushed into marriages and their good looks were absorbed by life-draining jobs and children, Pansy had time for herself. She wasn't wife material; the potential husbands she was forced to meet curled their lips and turned their eyes away from her. They didn't want someone as ugly as Pansy as their wife, as the mother of their children. They wanted little more than a beautiful, shiny trophy to carry on their arms.

Pansy wasn't about to be just a trophy.

oOo

As a woman in her mid-twenties, Pansy was unrecognisable. Being part of the more desirable side of society, she didn't have to work too hard to have plenty of money. She was able to spend her inheritance on making herself into the beautiful person she had wanted to be back in school. There were some things that magic couldn't do.

Surgery altered her squashed nose and round face. Liposuction and implants changed her body from flat and apple-shaped to slender limber. She moved from her family home in the country to an apartment in Kensington, and spent her weekends buying clothes and shoes from the designer shops that she had only been able to drool at as a child. Once upon a time, she would have rather died than spend her money in a Muggle shop. But her desire for beautiful material things soon changed her mind.

Her lifestyle was extravagant and stylish. The money she had and the physical allure she projected bought her sophisticated friends, who were more like accessories than true, real friends. She became a household name for more than her blood status within the wizarding society in London; she was accepted into VIP clubs and restaurants; and for the first time in her life, she felt that people wanted to be like her.

The glittery dresses, the shrill laughter, the vibrant cocktails that touched her lips. They made her feel on top of the world.

oOo

The lifestyle she led wouldn't come without temptations. She made her biggest mistake in the black-tiled bathroom of a high-rise nightclub in the middle of London. The dark-skinned wizard beside her was familiar, she didn't know why—his deep brown eyes and thick bottom were recognisable, and he seemed to know her, but she didn't care. His kiss made her spine vibrate and the backs of her eyeballs flash; his flat, wide hands touching her body sent shockwaves through her pores.

When he pulled away she was aching for more. She didn't care how tacky the huge platinum ring was on his finger, and she wasn't interested in what was behind the little secret door on the inlaid glass stone. His dark eyes bored into hers as he brought his knuckle to his nose and breathed in deeply, then held his hand to her.

She watched him intently, determined not to appear weak and stupid in front of this incredible, beautiful man, and copied his motions. When she looked back in the mirror, flakes of white powder coated her nostrils, and she almost didn't recognise herself.

oOo

When Pansy opened her eyes again, everything was white. White on the walls, her white hand in front of her face, white sheets on her bed—and those miniscule white crystals swimming in her vision. She ground the heel of her palm into her temple, cursing the migraine that was throbbing behind her eyes.

"Lie back, Miss," a voice trilled, and another white mass focused in front of Pansy. A small woman wearing a pinafore and pushing a trolley.

"Am I in hospital?" Pansy sat bolt upright, ignoring the woman's demand. The white tiles and orange plastic chairs confirmed her suspicions, and the complicated machinery around her bed suggested she wasn't at St. Mungo's, but in a Muggle hospital. Her designer dress was folded neatly on a chair by her bed, and Pansy realised she was wearing a stiff hospital nightgown. "What happened?"

"You had an overdose," the nurse explained, abandoning her trolley and perching on the edge of Pansy's bed. "You had traces of a very dirty drug in your system. The doctor will be along to discuss it with you soon." The nurse stood up to leave, but Pansy grabbed her wrist.

"That's ridiculous," she scoffed. She remembered the dark-skinned man from the nightclub and the powder he carried in his ring, and suddenly felt very stupid. "It was the tiniest amount…"

The nurse pulled away from Pansy, shooting her an apologetic look. "Sometimes, that's all it takes. The drug may not have been exactly what...what you were told it was."

Pansy hadn't been told what it was, and she had no prior knowledge of drugs. She could have inhaled anything, all because she put her trust in a shady man she met in a nightclub.

She felt very, very stupid.

"If you don't mind my saying, Miss," the nurse continued, glancing at the expensive clothes on the chair. "It might be time to slow down on the uptown life." She shimmied off with her trolley before Pansy could chirp back with something clever.

She leaned back in her bed, staring up at the tiled ceiling. Perhaps she had a point.