A/N: This was written for Round 3 of the QLFC, I am Chaser 2 for the Montrose Magpies.
The prompt given to all Chaser 2's this time was to write a fic inspired by 'Furby'.
My first immediate thought was that Furbies were fake pets, incredibly popular but ultimately neither the pets they pretended to be, nor truly robots. That made me think of someone trying hard to be one thing, of acting fake - someone stuck between two worlds. I also read that Furbies learn to associate words with receiving attention so they say those words more.
Essentially, Furbies learn to love and crave affection.
I hope you enjoy the creative way I've taken this prompt. All other prompts and challenges are listed at the bottom so as not to give anything away.
Word Count: 3,020 (under word count with the 30 word leeway)
Fearing the Fire
Some women fear the fire. Some women simply become it. - r.h. Sin
It was reckless. It was dangerous. If her parents found out, Pansy wouldn't live long enough to see the following morning. She was supposed to have a dazzling career and life in front of her; it was never supposed to end with her being turned into seventeen-year-old worm food.
She reached for a blue-green pencil to try to capture the colour of the Great Lake at that exact moment as she sketched. Her fingertips and the edges of her hands were already smudged in scarlet from where she had been shading in Ginny's hair, wisps caught by the wind to flit and dance across her face.
"Really, you have grass stains on your knees, and I'm supposed to believe you're sensible?" Pansy said, annoyed that she hadn't noticed before. If she was to become a famous artist, she needed to notice every detail. And yet here she was, missing the obvious once again because she was distracted by the freckles cascading down Ginny's cheeks and all the way to her shoulders.
"You know I try very hard not to be sensible. I'm the one who found this patch on the outskirts of the forest, overlooking the lake, because I was gathering ingredients for a Forgetfulness Potion to mess with a Ravenclaw in my year," Ginny sniffed, hiding her smile. "You're the one who's sensible. You're supposed to look out for the both of us."
That wasn't true in the slightest and they both knew it. The only reason they hadn't been caught was because of Ginny's ingenuity and Pansy's perpetual standoffishness. She and Draco still flirted and kept up pretences but both of them knew that it was purely for show. Apart from him, Pansy talked to very few other people. People had tried, particularly when she was younger. Whether it was the end of her wand or her barbed insults that kept them away, Pansy always managed to be alone in the end.
That had been the way she preferred it, until her belief system and foundations had crumbled. Ginny had brought her walls down and shattered every preconceived notion that she was straight. She had thought homosexuals were wrong. She had believed that blood traitors weren't mindless fools, not worthy of even a second glance.
Pansy went back to sketching, confident that her expression was neutral even as her thoughts spun.
She hadn't noticed the feelings burrowing into her heart, but as she watched Ginny humming to herself while making a daisy chain, her heart skipped a beat. They were two sides of the same coin, as ridiculous as it seemed considering their lives and circumstances. Pansy hadn't ever felt so inspired and at first, that's how she justified it in her mind. Of course, a famous artist had to have their muse. It wasn't a relationship, just something that was beneficial for both parties.
Then Ginny had kissed her, talked to her about their future when there was no war, no expectations, just them together, and Pansy had wanted it so badly it hurt.
The dusk above them was turning a deep purple by the time she had finished. Ginny yawned when she stood up.
"You should head back first," Pansy said. For all that she loved the young woman who had lit a spark in her heart, Pansy wasn't ready to stop pretending yet. She was comfortable with her masks and Ginny had never asked her to be any different. Ginny knew her, understood her more than anyone else had ever tried.
"And let you go back through the Forest on your own? Not likely," Ginny scoffed. Pansy bristled at the implication that she somehow needed protection.
"Excuse me? I'm perfectly capable of defending myself from bowtruckles and overhanging branches," she said with a roll of her eyes.
"Oh I know, but I hate it when we have to go back to the castle. When we're here, we can be us, and that's how I want it to be forever."
Pansy was about to make another acerbic comment but looked up to see that Ginny's brown eyes were staring at her seriously.
"Pansy, I really want this."
"So do I," Pansy said, her mouth a little dry from nerves. "So do I. I know we don't talk about the serious things that much, but I think about us, about our life together and how to make it work all the time. Whatever happens, I want this."
"Good, so I can come with you back through the forest? Not into the castle, I'm not asking for you to do anything drastic. We'll work out a plan together." The relief on Ginny's face made exposing herself worth it, Pansy realised and she nodded. "Good. I was ready to fight you to let me accompany you back. You're going to have to realise that you couldn't get rid of me if you tried."
Ginny laughed as she pressed her lips against Pansy's cheek. Pansy turned, acknowledging that the girl she was deeply in love with was an arrogant piece of work. She deepened the kiss until Ginny was breathless, blinking.
"I won't try. Whatever happens."
"Whatever happens," Ginny echoed with a soft smile.
They held hands as they walked through the forest, only breaking apart when the castle came fully into view. Ginny headed across to the Quidditch pitch and Pansy exhaled slowly, feeling a pang of loss, and then squared her shoulders to march back into school, which was starting to feel more and more like a prison.
Soon, she would be able to let some of her masks fall. There would be astonishment, disgust, most likely horror — and that would be just her mother's reactions — but around Ginny, Pansy felt like she could withstand anything. Undeniably she felt her heart wrench at the prospect. She would be disowned and her life would likely be in danger. Her mother's horrified sentiments would very quickly turn to rage, as would her father's.
The knowledge that Pansy would be an outcast and have to face not only accusations but constantly defend her choices, made to feel unnatural, was the reason she had never breathed a word before.
That was going to change. Not today, but soon. Today Pansy had to be Pansy Parkinson, the shallow bitch of her year. When she felt strong enough to endure the inevitable onslaught, then Pansy would be prepared to change.
[Seven Years Later]
Pansy drank a large glass of water, followed by a headache potion. She still felt like she was still at the club, thrumming bass playing on repeat inside her head, entangled with her headache. She had woken up after only an hour's sleep and spent two hours fixing her hair and makeup. It took time to dab concealer on the bags under her eyes, to apply the right dye to her hair to keep its' soft powder grey sheen. Then there had been curling tools, her nails to re-apply nail polish to, her teeth to whiten... The list went on and on. The mantra of 'appearances to maintain' ran through her mind, over and over.
To pour herself into the dress she changed into required three spells and underwear that cinched her waist into something almost doll-like.
Then there were the stiletto heels, slipped onto pedicured feet, at half past eight in the morning.
Pansy never stepped out of her warded bedroom without the right clothes on, the right shoes, the right look. She never knew who might be watching and these days, especially because it seemed that everyone was.
Her heels clicked against the floor as she strode from her bedroom down the marble hallway. The lounge was empty, the person she was looking for wasn't on the sofa. Pansy sniffed, already annoyed. Eventually, she found him in one of the guest bathrooms, passed out in the bathtub. Pansy couldn't remember what had happened last night, not after they'd come back from the club together and his hands had been on hers, slipping under her skirt, his breath hot on her neck.
In the harsh morning daylight, he certainly didn't look like her type.
(Red hair, freckled shoulders and a grin full of promises.)
She waved her wand, an arc of water coming from the tap to hover over him. Another swish and he was drenched, jolting awake and whacking his head on the tap. Pansy felt herself smile, even as she reflected that she was bored already. Kicking men out in the mornings had lost its lustre a long time ago.
He scowled up at her as he rubbed his head. "So you're not just a cold-hearted slut when you're drunk then, that's good to know."
"Get out of my house."
He nearly slipped as he stepped out of the bath and she didn't bother helping him. He looked like he had a worse hangover than her and still, Pansy just felt disgusted. It was at herself, at what she was doing but she didn't let that show. He dried himself off with a spell, ruffling his hair and peering into the mirror.
"You look plastic. If you're going to be a two-faced bitch, at least make one of them pretty," He spat. "Telling me all night how you want to get with me and then as soon as we're through the door, after the press had taken their photos of us stumbling out of the club together, you lock yourself away in your bedroom."
"But you're not going to tell anyone about that," Pansy said, unaffected. "I don't even remember your name and I bet the public doesn't either. You're a failing artist, like so many others. So you're going to tell the world that you shagged the world-famous Pansy Parkinson, and suddenly you'll be on the map."
He gaped like a fish and Pansy rolled her eyes.
"It's called notoriety. Now, I won't tell you again. Get out of my house."
He left eventually, looking gobsmacked and like he wanted to talk more, but one look at her face, at her eyes, and he retreated. Pansy had her mask on but she wasn't ready to pretend just yet. That act came when she left the house. She had tried to maintain a balance — famous amongst women's magazines and interviewers for often saying "I don't dress like this to impress men. I dress like this because I want to" — whilst going to clubs every night, in tabloids for having a different man on her arm for each day of the week.
She never slept with any of them. Some would say that she'd had to pay, others she got too drunk to do anything more with than pass out. It was a watertight cover. The only time Pansy broke was on mornings like this when her morning's sketch was of a woman with a reckless attitude to the world and its judgements. A woman who had made Pansy feel more grounded than she could ever remember.
"Accio jumper."
She only had one so the spell didn't need specifics. In her studio, surrounded by oils, watercolours and pencils, Pansy caught the soft green jumper with a dark grey letter in the centre, a capital P. Ginny had knitted it for their first anniversary, explaining that it was a family tradition. Even now, years later, Pansy could still feel the charms for warmth and mending, safety and comfort weaved through it. She had given Ginny a painting, something that Pansy had been embarrassed about even then.
And then the war had divided them.
Everything they had sworn they would fight against had come between them and Pansy hadn't fought against it like she said she would. Instead, she had curated masks of iron and fled to America, reinventing herself over and over for people who never cared enough to really get to know her. She was famous now, partly for her work but mainly for inventing a colour of paint she called 'powder grey', imbued with shifting sparkles acquired from strands of Demiguise hair. Her soft grey hair was as much part of her image as everything else was and Pansy kept having to increase her security wards to prevent thieves coming into her home
Clutching the jumper that reminded her how love had felt, Pansy cried.
She had fame, she had money, she had even been freed from her family, and yet Pansy had never felt more caged.
Something had to change. Her art was suffering but more than that, her mind and health were too. Pansy was fed up with pretending, but even the thought of being open and vulnerable terrified her immensely.
She was trapped, by the choices she had made, by her own fear and refusal to admit that she was—
Pansy couldn't even allow herself to admit the word. 'Gay'. It made her cringe and bury her head deeper into the jumper. The same thought that hit her daily, over and overcame with her then.
She missed Ginny. She missed the person Ginny had shown her she could be. And more importantly, Ginny had deserved better.
Pansy had never felt so afraid.
She had written Ginny a letter, after days of wondering, and days of building up the courage to send it and then faltering. The press was running wild with tales of her being a recluse now, after two months of not going to clubs, simply working on her art and wondering what she needed to change.
Now she was standing in London, the sky mimicking her hair as England tended to do. The choice to wear flat shoes and smart pinstriped trousers with a loose silk shirt had been deliberate, although Pansy felt as though no one else would notice. St James' Park was busy with tourists and her fingers twitched with the urge to sketch, to do something to expel her terror and nerves.
"I hate to inform you of this, but I don't think whoever it is you're waiting for is going to be showing up."
She wanted to curse Draco at that moment, damn the Statute of Secrecy. He was the only one who had known she was coming back to the UK and whilst he didn't know why, he hadn't asked any questions - yet. All he had done was offer her a room at his Manor and compliment her on her recent exhibition in Tokyo because of course Draco had kept up with her career. He'd even given her a wedding invitation, although she hadn't actually met Astoria yet.
He was a good friend; but that didn't stop her from hating him for pointing out the obvious.
"When they appear, you're not allowed to say anything," Pansy reminded him once again, and Draco shrugged.
"I'm making no promises. I haven't seen you this nervous before. I'm actually a little worried." He said it so nonchalantly, staring out towards the lake where a pair of swans were floating serenely.
"You try way too hard to look cool," Pansy shot back, nerves stretched tautly. "She'll come."
The pronoun slipped out and Draco gave her a curious glance.
"Yes well, I'm going to go for a stroll to stretch my legs. The flowers are in bloom, and the plants are green for once. It's almost worth us wasting our time here."
Ginny appeared almost as soon as Draco left for his walk, his nose in the air making him look pompous enough to rival a King. Pansy wonder if she'd been waiting for her to be alone. Her mouth dry, Pansy got to her feet, staring at Ginny.
"You look wonderful," Pansy said, automatically kicking herself for not keeping it together.
"I try to keep in shape. What are you doing here, Pansy? When I got your letter, well I… I didn't know what to think."
"I'm here to apologise. I've got an exhibition tonight and I'm coming out as gay. I'm so sorry that I left you, that I was too scared to face who I was. It's taken me years but I miss you every day and well… I thought you deserved to know. You told me, a long time ago, that some things are worth pursuing, regardless of the cost. I finally realised what I wanted to pursue."
"Me?" There was shock on Ginny's face but she was also guarded and Pansy kept talking, feeling more vulnerable than she had in years.
"No, I wouldn't ask that of you. But I need to be true to myself and stop living in fear, I need to stop expecting everyone to be horrified and instead embrace who I am."
Ginny's smile made Pansy's heart skip a beat, as it always had.
"I'm proud of you, Pansy. I really am. Also I… well, I miss you every day too. There's never been anyone else."
Pansy didn't know what to say to that. She didn't want to ruin the moment, to push too hard. They had both grown up, they had their own lives and so she restrained herself somewhat and instead reached inside of her bag, pulling out a powdered grey jumper with a red 'G' in the centre. One sleeve was two inches longer than the other and a hole had been inexpertly mended.
"I learned how to knit," she said softly. Ginny was the one to pull her into an embrace, Pansy instigated the first kiss and by the time Draco had returned, Ginny had agreed to come to Pansy's exhibition that evening.
"Draco, I'm gay and I love Ginny Weasley."
He looked momentarily taken aback and then held his hand out to Ginny. "In that case, I'll add a plus one to the invitation."
"How are you planning on coming out?"
"Well, for starters all of the art is distinctly sapphic. If people don't work it out by that, then I'll… well, I'll just be me."
It felt terrifying until Ginny slipped her hand into Pansy's.
"Whatever happens, I want this, I want us," she murmured and the last few tendrils of fear that had coiled in Pansy's stomach faded away with another kiss.
A/N: All prompts and Challenges that this fic has been entered in are listed below.
Chaser 2 Additional Prompts -
(emotion) fear
(colour) powder grey
(object) jumper/sweater
Dialogue Wheel: Really, you have grass stains on your knees, and I'm supposed to believe you're sensible?"
World Cup Challenge: "If you're going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty."
Hogwarts Assignment 12: Gardening - Task 10: Flowers - Write about a character with a floral name.
Character Appreciation: (character) Pansy Parkinson
Disney Challenge: Prince Hans - Write about someone who seduces for deceit.
Book Club - Aiko: (occupation) artist, (word) dream, (dialogue) "I hate to inform you of this, but I don't think whoever it is you're waiting for is going to be showing up.", (dialogue) "Some things are worth pursuit regardless of the cost."
Showtime: The History of Wrong Guys - (plot point) falling for someone you can't have
Amber's Attic - 8. Face Paint: Write about someone hiding who they truly are.
Lyric Alley: That can't be seen; put to bed this dream
Ami's Audio Aspirations: 5.0 It's really good. Fact. — Write about someone loving something/someone
Em's Emporium - Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil: Write about a character coming out.
Lo's Lowdown: Spock - write about someone who prefers logic over emotion. Alt. write about someone caught between two worlds
Days of the Year: June 24 2018 - Gay Pride: Write Slash/Femmeslash. Alternatively, write about somebody coming out of the figurative closet.
Summer Prompts - (dialogue) "You try way too hard to look cool."
Colour Prompts - Blue-Green
Birthstones: Moonstone - (dialogue) "I don't dress like this to impress men. I dress like this because I want to."
Flowers - Peony - (sexuality) Bisexual
Fire Element - (quote) "Some women fear the fire. Some women simply become it." - r.h. Sin
Shay's Musical's Challenge - Fun Home - write about coming out of the closet.
Gryffindor Themed Prompts - Ginny Weasley, (colour) Scarlet, Reckless
Summer Astrology Prompts - (scenario) Resolving a conflict
Faeries Day - Earth Faerie
- Neutral
- Grounded
- Worms
- Plant
- Burrowing
- Earthquake
- Foundation
Debate Club Challenge: Femslash - Ginny/Pansy
Chocolate Frog Cards - Hebredian Black: Write about someone who is extremely aggressive to anyone they come in contact with and thus is left alone.
Hot Air Balloon - Wedding Invitation (object)
Gobstones: [Gold Stone - First love + (action) dancing, (action) kissing, 'Hold Back the River' - James Bay]
Eagle Day - Roger Davies: (word) arrogant; (character) Fleur Delacour; (action) snogging; (trait) shallow (bonus)
Film Festival - Coming out
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Write Them:
(spell) Accio
(dialogue) "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."
(song) Stay by Rihanna
The 365 Prompts Challenge: Hello - Adele (song)
The Insane House Challenge - I Won't Say I'm In Love - Hercules (song)