Written for QLFC Finals Round 1

Prompt: Write about someone's first visit to Knockturn Alley

Extra Prompts: (word) ambiguous, (word) feature, (quote) 'At least you get the chance to meet me.' - Pokemon

Beta-ed by The Lady Rogue

"Ugh, I hate the thought of going back out in that," Pansy muttered, glancing out the door of the Leaky Cauldron.

"I know," Daphne murmured, a look of equal distaste on her face. "At least you got the chance to meet me here though. It was nice to see you." Daphne was just Flooing home, the lucky bitch. She didn't have to take a step outside, nor did she know what the rest of Pansy's day had in store. Pansy was dreading it.

"Yeah, I'll owl you," Pansy promised, lips twitching up in a brief smile. "Bye, Daphne."

The chilly, drizzling rain might have added ambiance, but it certainly didn't make the afternoon's task any more pleasant. Pansy wrinkled her nose, casting an Impervius charm on her cloak.

Now protected from the rain at least, she found herself transfixed, staring down the dark, winding alleyway leading to her destination. She could stay right here in Diagon, of course, and make up excuses for her mother later. Her gaze flicked only briefly to the shops behind her, considering it, but then she steeled herself, pulling up her hood to hide her face. No use in trying to avoid it.

God, Pansy, what kind of Slytherin are you? Nervous about buying a little poison? The voice in her head sounded a little like Draco, and she knew it was right. It would feel so good once this was over.

Straightening her posture, Pansy strode into the alley, sneer pasted on her face. She'd never been before, unlike some of her friends. Her mother had maintained that it wasn't ladylike to be loitering around Knockturn Alley, and that she shouldn't get herself mixed up in that sort of thing. Pansy hadn't been interested enough to ignore the request, and so until now, she'd stayed out.

"Pure Amortentia, only two Galleons for a pretty witch like you," an old wizard crooned from his street stall. He reached out to touch her arm, and Pansy batted his hand away, walking a little faster.

Shyverwretch's Venoms and Poisons. There it was, now in sight, just along the alley. She exhaled softly in relief, continuing down the street.

The door creaked in protest as she pushed it open, and the floorboards weren't much better. There was a thin layer of dust over coating almost all the counters. Definitely not the kind of place Pansy would normally choose to visit.

She glanced around, strolling through the aisles in an attempt to look like someone browsing casually. Poisons to exterminate pests seemed to be a main product, displayed prominently towards the entrance. They were probably some of the only legal items in the shop.

"Pest control?" asked the woman behind the counter.

"Of a sort," Pansy replied with a wry smile. "A rather large pest."

She continued winding her way through the store, going deeper into the less-traveled aisles, where the better stock was hidden discretely out of the way. The back of her neck felt tingly, like the witch behind the counter was still watching her. Probably was, Pansy figured. Wouldn't want anyone to steal an expensive potion or poison.

"You've heard the rumors about the Malfoys lately," her mother whispered, breath warm against her ear, grip tight on her wrist. Pansy felt the edge of the china cabinet digging into her hip, but she didn't complain. This was more important than a few minutes of discomfort.

"We are not going to end up like them, at the Dark Lord's beck and call. I will not allow you to be put in that kind of danger. It was bad enough the first time, but now..." Her mother stopped, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. She let go of her wrist, but Pansy didn't move, still pressed up against the cabinet.

"Your father will drag all of us into that, no regard for anyone but himself."

"I know," Pansy agreed, unable to say anything else. Subconsciously, she gripped at her forearm, pale and blank while Draco's would soon be Marked. The Parkinson family had always managed to stay ambiguous about their loyalties, saying and doing just the right things to make everyone happy. Her father had never been happy with that, though. He was a low-ranking supporter of Voldemort, unworthy of the Dark Mark, and he wanted to change that.

"I don't think I can reason with him this time."

"You're right. He seems set on taking an active role in this war."

Her mother nodded, still teary-eyed, and Pansy wished she could do something to comfort her. She wasn't sure if she wanted Voldemort to be defeated, or Potter, but she thought one of them really ought to get on with it, so that everyone else could go back to their lives.

"I'm not planning on following in his footsteps, Mum," she murmured, hoping that would ease her worry. "Alright? I don't want the damn Mark. It's horribly ugly anyway."

"He's putting you in danger, Pansy," she repeated, and all at once, Pansy realized where this conversation was going.

She heard the clunk-clunk of boots in the hallway, just outside where they were huddled in the dining room. Her stomach turned.

"Iris, what are you doing?" her father called from the hallway. "I told you to leave the cleaning to the damn elves."

Her mother sighed, gaze flicking to the door, as though estimating how long they had until he'd decide to come in.

She pressed a slip of parchment into Pansy's hand, kissing her forehead.

"Maybe you can meet Blaise or Daphne in London soon, hm? It'd be nice to see one of your friends."

With that, she hurried out to appease her husband, leaving Pansy standing there alone, fingers clenched around the parchment.

She shook her head, taking a deep breath. How long had she been standing here, staring at the shelves? Too long. That was unacceptable.

Pansy fished the bit of parchment out of her robe pocket, comparing the names written down to the bottles lining the shelves. It didn't take long to find one that would work, and she grinned, picking up the bottle and heading back to the front. It was a little pricey, but worth every Knut.

"This all, dear?"

"Yes," Pansy said, giving a slight nod as she paid. She was careful to be polite, not a hint of her usual attitude. Pissing off someone in Knockturn Alley was the last thing he needed.

The other witch smiled, tucking the poison into a small velvet bag for her.

"Husband?"

Pansy made a face, shaking her head. She brushed a few strands of dark hair out of her face, putting the bag in a hidden pocket of her robes.

"Father."

"Well, good luck."

Pansy had already started to turn away, but she nodded, smiling at her.

"Thank you."