Pearls and Pygmy Puffs
By Clementine Mack
One moment Pansy Parkinson was sipping pale pink rose in her family's chateau and the next she was sitting on her friend Millicent Bulstrode's sofa trying to make sense of how she found herself living in abject poverty.
In the aftermath of the war the Ministry went on a campaign to hunt down any person that had aided Voldemort. And just like that all of the Parkinson's family accounts had been frozen, their assets seized under the investigation. As her mother wept, Mr. Parkinson said with stoic reserve that it could be months before they could exonerate themselves.
"What do you mean, father?" Pansy pleaded.
"It means we have nothing, my flower. The Ministry has frozen all our accounts at Gringotts. Thankfully your great aunt has graciously opened her home to us in this terrible time."
At the mention of her great aunt Pansy's heart sank even further. The elderly woman was bitter and cruel; not to mention she smelt of mothballs. The young witch's fate felt like it was quickly spiraling away from her. She left her parents' home that day with nothing more than two fine leather suitcases stitched with her monogram and carrying all she had left to her name. She could have taken more with her and probably should have but Pansy had a flair for dramatics and had not stopped to consider what constituted as a necessity beyond her finest robes and heels.
The ministry can have my 1920's mulberry silk robe when they pry it out of my manicured nails, she grumbled silently.
"What am I going to to do, Millie? I have nothing! Nothing at all!" She wailed into the soft velvet couch pillows. Millicent grimaced, perhaps because of her friend's tears but more than likely because of the state she was leaving her furniture in. "You were the only one who answered my owl. Daphne, Zabini...they all turned their back on me!"
"No one turned their back on you, I'm sure everyone's just busy these days. Daphne is planning her wedding and Blaise..well, Blaise is Blaise," Millicent said gently. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish. I even know a bloke who is hiring right now and can get you a job."
"A job?" Pansy asked, horrified. Oh how far she was falling from the opulence of the life she had always lived. Work was for the middle class. Or in Millicent's case, for those who found some sort of satisfaction in an occupation. Not Pansy. She knew all along her role was to be a mother and wife someday, spending her days bossing House Elves around as she tended to her family manor. And yet suddenly that dream seemed crushed under the weight of reality. She was penniless. Even now she envisioned her social circle calling her Penniless Pansy, laughing to themselves at her misfortune behind her back.
"Yes, a job," Millicent said firmly. "It is my only condition for staying here. I can't have you wallowing around the flat in your nightgown all day."
Pansy pouted but Millicent persisted. "The job is nothing fancy but it would do you some good and help get your mind off matters."
Despite Pansy's protests she eventually relented and accepted the encouragement. Before long she found herself standing beside Millicent while the witch made the proper introductions to her would-be employer. Mr. Jenkins was an elderly wizard and owner of the Grey Owl Cafe, a small coffee shop in the middle of wizarding London. Pansy had chosen to wear a large snake brocade on her black blouse and matching pencil skirt. Even her short sleek black hair was styled with an emerald fascinator. Millicent had warned her before she left that she might be a tad overdressed but Pansy did not care: she was going to mingle with commoners but she was going to look good doing it.
Mr. Jenkins gave Pansy a critical look even as Millicent pitched the strengths and virtues of her friend. "Do you have any experience using an espresso machine?" he asked Pansy.
The witch shook her head but after a disapproving glance from Millicent she added, "No but I can learn fast."
Now was not the time to state that she had never so much as touched an espresso machine and that her experience with making anything consumable was extremely limited. While Pansy was not thrilled by the prospect of working, she did not want to be ungrateful for her friend's effort. And Millicent was right, Pansy needed something to pass her time in what felt like exile.
After a long pause the older man agreed to hire Pansy on the condition that she was willing to start training the following day. As she left the cafe she didn't feel triumphant like Millicent did, nor was she excited about what tomorrow would bring. For her friend's sake she put on a false bravado but as soon as they returned home Pansy went to her room to cry in peace. She summoned a muting charm to muffle the sounds of her sobs as she collapsed into her bed.
She missed her old life and cursed the cruelty of her new existence. Perhaps tomorrow she would muster more optimism but not now; Pansy surrendered to her anguish, crying until there were no more tears left and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning came and Pansy sat up abruptly at the sound of Millicent pounding at her door. "You are going to be late Pans!"
As the fog of sleep slipped away, reality awaited. Pansy groaned quietly, quickly getting dressed in a simple black linen blouse and skirt. She traded her stilettos for a modest pair of mary janes (upon her new boss's recommendation that she wear deemably more appropriate footwear). With a few well placed makeup and hair spells, the witch regarded her reflection with as much satisfaction as she could have given the glum eyes staring back at her. "It will be alright," she said to herself, repeating the words aloud several times in mantra with the hopes it might actually become true.
She had very little time for an exchange of pleasantries with Millicent as she left her room and darted for the floo. Breakfast was a luxury she wasn't going to enjoy that morning.
When she arrived at the Grey Owl Cafe, Mr. Jenkins immediately went about teaching Pansy the in's and out's of her new responsibilities. To the old man's surprise, Pansy was a fast learner. She always had been, even in her days at Hogwarts she had excelled in her school work and it was something she had secretly prided herself in. With the exception of Herbology (because Pansy couldn't stand having dirt between her nails) she had received high marks all through her years with rather ease. By mid morning she was running the espresso machine and taking orders like a seasoned barista.
After having Pansy run through all that he had told her and watching her closely as she handled several customers, Mr. Jenkins seemed satisfied that his newest employee was adequate enough to leave unattended and he retreated to his office to complete paperwork.
Maybe this won't be so awful after all, Pansy thought to herself but no sooner had the thought crossed her mind did the cafe's door open with a chime and Pansy was greeted with the sight of Ron Weasley. She cursed under her breath but straightened her posture as she went to the cash register. The redheaded man had once been her classmate but their school years had been spent as bitter rivals, as Slytherin versus Gryffindor but also more personally as they ran with very different crowds. Even if she had not dated Draco Malfoy Pansy likely still would not have not associated with Ron and his ilk.
"Good morning," Pansy said with a neutral tone, making no attempt to be pleasant to her new customer but trying not to be rude either. She was not going to lose her job over him. "What can I get for you?"
He opened his mouth to order, initially looking more at the menu above her head than the witch. But when Ron did finally look at her he paused in confusion. It took him longer to recognize her than it had for Pansy to figure out who he was but she saw the recognition don in his eyes slowly.
"Parkinson?" He asked, still clearly more confused than annoyed. By the expression on his face Pansy would have thought he was looking at hippogriff taking his order.
"The one and only," she quipped with a little more bite in her tone than was necessary. Pansy forced a smile but it was through clenched teeth and contained no mirth as she repeated, "Can I get you something?"
"Why are you working here?" Ron asked bluntly.
Pansy could feel the red hot sting of embarrassment creep across her face. Her eyes flashed with anger at the audacity of his question. She wanted to cry, a reflex of a life in which tears had almost always gotten her out of unwanted situations. But Pansy knew crying wasn't going to get her out of poverty any easier than her fairy godmother was going to appear and make her problems go away.
"That's none of your business Weasley, now order something or get out of here," she snapped and for the first time the wizard's expression shifted from confusion to anger. He was about to say something when the cafe's owner appeared at the threshold of his office door.
"Is there a problem?" Mr. Jenkins asked, he was looking to Ron at that moment and Pansy held her breath. She realized suddenly that her outburst might have costed her job on her very first day. There was nothing to stop the redheaded wizard from throwing her under the proverbial Knight Bus.
But to her surprise, Ron shook his head.
"No problem at all." Turning back to Pansy, he placed his order briskly. "I'll take a pumpkin scone and a cup of coffee. No cream, no sugar."
Slightly stunned that he had not made a scene, Pansy spun on her heel under her boss's scrutiny and got the wizard his scone and coffee. He gave her the money and left without another word leaving Pansy to wonder why he hadn't chose to get her in trouble.
"It's what I would have done," Pansy said when she retold the story to Millicent later that evening.
Millicent rolled her eyes, "That's because you are a terrible person."
Pansy took another sip from her wine before feigning an aghast look. "How could you say such a thing!
Millicent shrugged, "I love you but it's true. You are the worst, Pansy."
It was Pansy's turn to be nonchalant as she finished her glass of wine and reached to pour herself another glass. She had worked a full day of what she considered "hard labor" and believed that it at least warranted one bottle of wine if not two. "I am just saying he had a chance to pay me back for all the hell I gave him in school. Weasley should have taken advantage of that."
"Some of us have grown up since Hogwarts. I promise you there is life beyond school house feuds."
"Oh you're no fun at all, Millie."
"But I am right," Millicent said as she drained her glass. "Maybe next time you see him you could try having a civil conversation and see where it goes."
Pansy snorted at the suggestion. See where it goes? Ron Weasley came from the poorest pureblood family on the Sacred 28 list, what could they possibly have in common? They were both destitute. The witch reasoned at least for her the situation would be remedied before long.
Pansy wasn't sure when the other witch had become a beacon of reason but wasn't sure it made her the best company. As they changed subjects to more idle chatter the night wore on and both witches retired to their respective rooms teetering from too much wine.
