Beyond the Frills

Pansy Parkinson. Draco Malfoy's adoring arm-ornament. An airhead, a socialite. The girl who always wears pink, frilly dress robes. An idiot. Nothing between the ears. Jealous of anyone smarter, better, or prettier than her- basically everyone. Slytherin. Scum. Lower than house-elfs.

This is what Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs like Harry Potter and company saw her as. No one to be feared. They believed what was presented to them. They never saw her for the actress she was. No one, not even Slytherins did. They never looked beyond the facade, beyond the mask.

If they cared to look, to see the real her, they could look into her eyes. Her cold, souless eyes. They could see the twisted features, twisted in revulsion for mudbloods and muggles. They could see the hatred she carried, the hatred aimed for one, specific goal.

The goal to exterminate Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. To rise to power in her own, true right. To display her relations. Her relation to Salazar Slytherin, to Voldemort. To become the fire to burn the earth pure of the slime, the filth. Those cringing worms, the creatures of unpure blood. To be... known.

AN: I know Voldie said he was the only remaining relative of SSlytherin, but who says he was sure?