So, this is going to be another chaptered story about the girls in Harry's year at Hogwarts and their lives following the war. This comes from the Song Quote Challenge from (yes, you guessed it!) the HPFC forum. My quote was, "I tried so hard not to think of you." The title comes from a quote by Henry Miller. The first chapter is Pansy Parkinson. Enjoy!

world made new

chapter one: pansy parkinson

i.

It's hard being a Slytherin after the war, Pansy reflects. She walks down the street, suspicious glances and whispers, and she wonders if there's a huge, blinking snake emblem on her chest that would alert them to the fact that she was Slytherin.

There's nothing there that would attract their gazes, but some just can't look away. They stare at her with unblinking eyes and she can't figure out why. Others avert their gazes, dropping their stares to the cobblestone floor and flushing with embarrassment.

It's hard to manage, just walking down the street to be greeted in such a way. Pansy hasn't done anything to deserve this—yes, she's a Slytherin, but they sorted all of the House stereotypes out ages ago, didn't they? Maybe her much-regretted outburst before the battle has spread quickly, but she doesn't imagine it could have. Maybe it's just the fact that she is a Slytherin, and even though she's grown up and holding a steady job now, there's no 'was' about it.

She might believe that, but not everyone is defined by what House they were in. Once you're out in the world on your own, 'Gryffindor,' 'Ravenclaw,' and 'Hufflepuff' are interchangeable. By that point you're beyond inter-House rivalries and mocking.

And yet.

Pansy is a Slytherin—is, not was—and nobody seems close to forgetting it anytime soon; green and silver seem to reflect off her with ease, and everyone seems to know. Just innately, as if she had a Dark Mark tattooed on her forearm.

Maybe the two are interchangeable, in their minds at least. The worst part of that notion is that it's completely understandable.

ii.

One person that doesn't seem to care is Justin, and he's perhaps the most unlikely candidate at all. After all, he's Muggle-born, and he'd be righteously angry if he had told her in no uncertain terms to leave when she'd showed up on his doorstep.

But he doesn't. Instead mild surprise colors his face and her steps aside to allow her entrance. She looks around the flat—it's a mess, all a number of papers scattered everywhere and books open on the tables and the floor with notes scrawled in the margins.

"My MediWizard exam is tomorrow," he confesses, as if this explains it all.

Pansy tries to hide a smile. The situation isn't very funny, really, but it amuses her none the less. Maybe because she hasn't had a smile to hide in months, and it just seems so odd and inconceivable that her first grin in ages would happen in Justin Finch-Fletchley's disorganized flat.

"Well, you wouldn't happen to need any help studying, would you?" The offer is not premeditated, it slips of Pansy's lips without any warning at all.

Justin looks as shocked as she does, but she can't help the thrill that runs through her body when he says, "Yes."

And somehow it's Justin's couch that she ends up on, Justin's shoulder that she bumps with her own, and his bed that she wakes up in the next morning. It makes no logical sense—she's a pureblood and a Slytherin, he's a Muggle-born and a Hufflepuff—but there's no way she can imagine it being another way.

It's Justin that she brings home to meet her parents, and damn the rest.

iii.

Pansy hasn't seen any of her friends—not Draco or Greg or Millicent—since the final battle. No one's called or written or dropped by to visit. She doesn't wonder about Draco; she's seen him hanging around outside of Fortescue's with the Greengrass girl, and the Goyles are finished, but she does wonder about Millicent.

That's why she ends up at the Bulstrode estate in August, out of honest concern and curiosity. She rings the doorbell.

Millicent answers, looking wan and tired. She's wearing a long, black cloak that shadows her face, and her voice sounds cracked when she says, "Pansy."

Pansy blinks. "Millicent, how are you? You haven't—"

"I haven't what? Called? Oh, sorry, I was busy with my chores," she mocks in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

This behavior is strange, and it makes Pansy even more curious. "What's wrong?" she asks.

This seems to set her off. "What's wrong?" she repeats, her voice raising an octave. "What's wrong? What do you think's wrong, Parkinson?"

She reaches up and pulls off her hood. Pansy's eyes widen and she has to stifle a gasp or a wince. Long, ragged scars cover her face, pulling down the corner of her mouth and her eye. They're awful, jagged and pink with dried blood at the edges, and Pansy can't suppress a deep breath.

"I really don't need this," snaps Millicent before Pansy can speak, and then she mumbles, "cowards with no scars."

"I'm not," mumbles Pansy, stung by the words. Millicent turns back and looks her straight in the eye.

"You are. You ran away. You didn't fight. You're why all Slytherins have a bad reputation."

She shuts the door in her face.

Pansy stands, frozen, on the doorstep. The accusation hurts—more than the stares or the averted gazes—and she aches to deny it.

"I'm not," she repeats stubbornly, firmly. But the only person she has to convince is herself.

iv.

She's twenty-two when her first child is born, a daughter that she and Justin name Iris. She has her mother's blonde hair and her father's gray eyes, and she's perfect.

"She's not getting a hyphenated last name, is she?" asks Justin when they bring her home from the hospital.

Pansy, tired as she is, laughs when she imagines her daughter getting the name "Parkinson-Finch-Fletchley."

"That would be cruel," she says. "Of course not."

But she watches her daughter sleep, peaceful and innocent and pure, and her heart fills with unbearable love. She'll never have to see the pain of war reflected across her face, tears in her eyes over the loss of a loved one.

She lifts her up and kisses her, drinking in her scent, nuzzling her face against hers. This makes it official: the war is over, and victory is sweet.

xxx

Well, that's it for chapter one. I think it was sweet. I've never liked Pansy, but she and Justin should be canon. XD It would be awesome. Also, I'm sorry for all of the rebuilding themes lately. We're studying Reconstruction in US History. It's not my fault. Anyway, review and make me happy!