Count On Someone

Pansy Parkinson decided a long time ago that others could not be counted on to keep their promises.

Not the Healers who said they could save her mum; not her father, who promised that Allison Greengrass was only a friend and nothing more; not the bratty little girls who moved in when Allison Greengrass became the new Mrs. Parkinson and swore they'd stay out of her way.

"We know how you feel, Pansy," said Daphne Greengrass on that first night after the wedding. She and her little sister had bedrooms of their own, but they'd expressed an interest in sleeping with Pansy, and nobody had bothered to ask Pansy what she wanted, so there they all were, all crammed into one bed. "Astoria and I lost our daddy."

Pansy snorted. "It's different."

Daphne tried to put a comforting hand on her new step-sister's arm, but Pansy scooted away toward the edge of the bed. "It's not so different."

"Your daddy didn't want you anymore," Pansy said. "My mother loved me until she died. Your father doesn't love you at all."

Silence, punctuated only by a whimper from Astoria.

Finally Daphne spoke. "He loves us."

"Then why isn't he the one married to your mum?" Pansy shot back, and she knew she was being nasty, but she didn't care.

Daphne was quiet for so long that Pansy thought she had fallen asleep. "You don't know the whole story."

"Enlighten me."

Daphne swallowed. Pansy wondered whether she was crying. "I feel sorry for you."

"Me? Why do you feel sorry for me? Neither of my parents walked out on me."

"I just do." And Daphne turned over to face the wall and said nothing more.

(The next night, she and Astoria slept in their own beds.)

Four months passed in this way, and by the time Pansy's first year of Hogwarts rolled around she and Daphne had settled into a strict routine of hating each other.

The drive to King's Cross was long and uncomfortable. Daphne and Pansy were stuffed in the backseat with Astoria wedged between them and their trunks taking up all the leg room. "Do you think you two will be in the same house?" Allison asked from the passenger seat.

"Hope not," Pansy said under her breath.

"Same here," Daphne shot back as Astoria announced that she was going to be sick.

"I'm not sure how to make the ride smoother, Astoria," Pansy's father said, tapping frantically at the ignition with his wand. The car was driving itself; the pedals compressed and released of their own accord while the wheel adjusted itself whenever it needed to. "Maybe if I change this - darling, what do you think 'Headlights'is?"

"I told you we shouldn't have tried to travel the muggle way," his wife said. "It's uncivilized."

"How would you rather me go? They're too young to Apparate, and you know what happens to Astoria's motion sickness when we try to Floo anywhere." Pansy's father slammed the steering wheel with his palms. "Drive smoothly!" he yelled into the air conditioning vent.

"My dad never lost his temper when he was married to my mum," Pansy said just loudly enough for Daphne to hear.

The car drove over a pothole, and Astoria moaned.

"It's not my mum's fault he can't drive," Daphne said. "If muggles can do it, you'd think he'd be able to figure it out, but apparently he's too stupid."

"Fine taste your mother has in men, if she married a stupid one."

Daphne looked out the window.

"We're here," Allison said. "Let Astoria out first - Pansy, let her get around you - do you feel okay, sweetheart?"

Astoria opened her mouth and vomited into Pansy's lap.

By the time Pansy's father had gotten her cleaned up, there was only one compartment left on the train, so Pansy and Daphne had no choice but to share.

"I heard Harry Potter's on the train somewhere," Daphne said.

Pansy sat down in the seat farthest away from Daphne. "If you actually like Harry Potter, then you're a prat."

"I don't."

Pansy looked at Daphne for the first time all day. "You don't?"

She shook her head. "My dad - " She cut herself off and looked around. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course."

"Okay." Daphne licked her lips. "My dad was a Death Eater," she whispered. "We aren't supposed to tell anyone. Astoria doesn't even know. She was only three when he was taken away to Azkaban. Too young to remember. But I remember."

Without meaning to, Pansy leaned in. "What happened?"

"They came to our house late at night and arrested him. He changed his name after Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who - we used to be Rookwoods, he changed us to Greengrass - but they found him anyway. And now he's in Azkaban."

Daphne Rookwood. It had a ring to it - more of a ring than Greengrass, anyway. "So he didn't walk out on you?" Pansy asked.

Daphne shook her head. "Nope."

"Oh." Guilt stabbed at her gut. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay." Daphne lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Anyway. That's why I don't like Harry Potter. It's all his fault."

"I don't have Death Eaters in my family," Pansy said a little sadly.

"You would if you decided to consider me family," Daphne said.

Pansy considered this. "Okay," she said. "Wow. Won't everyone be jealous when they learn your father is a Death Eater!"

"It's a secret," Daphne said. "We aren't supposed to tell anyone. Promise me you won't."

"But I want to tell people!"

"You can't." Daphne's eyes were wide. "Mum says it's a shameful thing to be a Death Eater, in this day and age."

Pansy tugged at her hair, thinking. "What if I only tell people who are already Death Eaters?"

Daphne bit her lip. "I suppose that's all right."

"Good. Deal." Pansy held out her hand for a shake; Daphne took it just as the compartment door slid open.

"D'you mind?" asked a blonde boy, beckoning two of his friends inside. "Everywhere else is full."

"Sure." Pansy slid over. The boy sat beside her.

"I'm Malfoy," he said. "Draco Malfoy."

"Pansy Parkinson," she replied. "And this is my - " She fumbled over the words, stuck between friend and enemy and Rookwood.

"Sister," Daphne said, leaning over to shake Draco's hand. "I'm her sister. Daphne."

"Sister," Pansy repeated, and she didn't hate the way it felt on her tongue.

"So Harry Potter's a Gryffindor," Draco said that night when they were all sorted and lounging around the fireplace in the Slytherin common room.

"Harry Potter?" repeated one of Draco's friends. "The famous one?"

"Yes, Crabbe, how many other Harry Potters do you think there are?" Draco rolled his eyes. "What do you lot think of him?" he asked, addressing Pansy and Daphne.

Pansy stole a glance at her sister (how strange, to call her a sister!), whose face looked almost exactly like Astoria's had before she'd thrown up earlier. "He's certainly . . . famous," she said vaguely.

Draco snorted. "He's a prat. I tried to make friends with him earlier - we met over the summer, at Diagon Alley. He's quite rude. Doesn't seem to care about blood purity at all."

"You want to be his friend?" Daphne asked.

"Not anymore, I don't." Draco shuddered. "My father was right about him."

"Your father doesn't like him?"

"Not at all. My father - all of ours, actually - " Draco gestured at Crabbe and his other friend, Goyle " - were big supporters of You-Know-Who."

"Really?" Pansy glanced at Daphne again. "How big?"

Draco licked his lips. "Big."

"How big?"

Draco didn't answer.

"My father's a Death Eater," Pansy offered suddenly.

Daphne's face turned bone white.

Draco exhaled. "Ours, too," he said. "I didn't want to say anything, in case you were Potter supporters, or one of you worked for the Ministry, or something."

"Not us," Pansy said, and Daphne echoed her weakly.

"So who's your father?" Draco asked. "I don't think I've ever heard of a Parkinson in the Death Eaters."

"He changed his name to protect us," Pansy said. "He's Rookwood."

"Augustus Rookwood," said Daphne.

Draco let out a low whistle. "Impressive. I'll have to write Father at once and tell him I've met you."

"Yes," Pansy said, linking arms with Daphne. "Tell him you've made some very impressive friends."

"Are you ready to go to sleep yet?" Pansy asked from her four-poster.

"Nearly." Daphne signed her name with a flourish at the bottom of her letter and blew out her candle.

"Writing to your dad in Azkaban?" Pansy asked.

"No." Daphne's voice sounded thin in the dark. "Astoria."

"Oh. Do you ever write your dad?"

"No. I barely know him."

"But do you miss him?"

"A little. Do you miss your mum?"

"Every day."

"I'm sorry," said Daphne.

"It's lonely," said Pansy.

"It doesn't have to be."

Pansy didn't ask her what she meant. "That Draco Malfoy was nice."

"Very nice." Daphne crawled between the sheets of her own four-poster.

"I think we're going to be good friends."

"I hope so." Daphne hesitated for a moment, and then: "What about you and me?"

"What about us?"

"Do you think we're going to be good friends, now that you know about my dad?"

Pansy was quiet.

"We don't have to," Daphne said finally. "I just thought it was going well back there, in the common room."

"I thought so, too."

"And if you're lonely, a friend might - you know. Help with that. The loneliness."

"It might." Pansy licked her lips. "Daphne?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think - could I sleep in the same bed with you tonight?"

She heard Daphne exhale a little in surprise. "Okay."

Pansy slid out of bed and climbed up in next to her sister. "Goodnight, Daphne."

"Goodnight, Pansy."

"I think we'll be friends. If we try really hard."

Daphne laughed quietly. "I promise to try really hard."

And for the first time in a very long time, Pansy fell asleep feeling that she could count on someone to keep a promise.

[Disney Character Competition: Lilo - write about someone who is extremely moody]

[Battleship Challenge II - D9 - write about Pansy Parkinson]

[Twelve Days of Christmas Style Challenge: 6/8 genres (friendship)]