Prologue: The Beautiful People.
Mid-July, 1991 -- The Parkinson Estate
Pansy shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She hated Mother's dreadful parties.
It was all the same, all the time. Pansy sighed and ran her hand through her dark hair. She hated these parties her parents threw, they were so utterly dull.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the unpleasant sound of her mother's high, false laugh as one of the gentleman - A short man who was probably a Death Eater, just like her father - told a supposedly very amusing joke. Pansy sighed again, causing her mother to frown and glare at her before pasting her usual bright smile back on her face.
'Excuse me,' the eleven-year-old said politely, and left the knot of people.
'Your daughter's turning into quite a looker, Ms Parkinson,' the man said, in one of those false whispers that he must have known Pansy could hear. She made a faint noise of disgust and escaped to the garden outside.
She sat down on the back steps and rested her chin in her hands. Crickets sang, and the moon hung in the sky, looking rather like one of the large cookies the house-elves always made for her. She glared up at it. Then she glared at the water fountain bubbling beside her. Then she just glared at the world in general.
She really hated this life.
Well, to be fair - She didn't hate all of it. The pretty clothes and toys were so nice, and the respect her parents - Mother's voice floated out the window, 'Would you like another glass of wine, Mrs Goyle?' - had in their social circle (comprised mostly of Death Eaters) was good, but... She hated the rest of it.
She couldn't stand the boring parties and luncheons, despised the pleasantries and false friendships -- 'Narcissa, darling, your hair looks so unusual like that!' She could hear her mother coo from inside -- It all seemed so very pointless to Pansy.
Pansy punched the ground softly in frustration -- Even though Mother said that hitting things was unladylike -- and made what she hoped was a suitably threatening and angry sound. She was determined that she was not going to live the rest of her life like this.
...
Draco Malfoy stood uncomfortably in the corner of the room, shuffling his feet and trying to block out the noise of the conversations going on in front of him.
'... And so the bartender says, why the long face?' Gregory Goyle Senior took a long drink from his wine glass and laughed loudly at his own joke, sounding, to Draco, rather like a sick Hippogriff. The other adults laughed politely, and began contributing their own bloody boring jokes to the conversation. Draco winced and hung his head in embarrassment as his father told a particularly bawdy one.
Draco managed to look up long enough to see a girl of about his age slip outside. He had noticed her briefly earlier that evening, and hadn't really paid attention to her since. But now that he thought about it, she might be somewhat entertaining for him.
Trying not to be noticed by any of the adults, he sneaked across the room - stubbing his toe on a rather ugly table on the way - and hopped out the door as quietly as possible.
The girl was sitting down in what seemed a very mopey position. Draco wrinkled his pointed nose. He couldn't stand girls who played Damsel in Distress. He liked girls with spirit.
She wasn't, he decided, a particularly pretty girl - Her nose turned up at the end, and she had too many freckles. And there was that bloody mopey... thing... she was doing, too.
Just then, the girl, apparently not aware of Draco's presence, slammed her fist down on the ground beside her and emitted a strange shrieking noise. Ha, Draco thought, maybe she wasn't as soppy as she had seemed at first.
The girl must have heard him, because she turned to look at him. Embarrassed to be found staring, he started talking in a high, nervous voice.
'Er - Yes, sorry to bother you, I was just, er...' Draco Malfoy, usually composed and dignified -- as a Malfoy must always be -- hastily tried to come up with an excuse. The girl raised her eyebrows and laughed quietly.
Draco shuffled his feet again, wincing as he felt the sharp pain in his injured toe. Well, this was awkward.
Suddenly remembering the manners his parents had been so intent upon teaching him at an early age, he held out his hand to the girl.
'My name is Draco Malfoy, it's an honour to meet such a lovely lady as yourself, Miss, er...?' he trailed off.
'Pansy Parkinson. And please don't start acting like them, I came outside to escape that.'
'Oh, thank God!' Breathing a sigh of relief, Draco sat down beside Pansy. 'I take it, then, that you enjoy these little get-togethers as much as I do.'
'They're disgusting,' snarled Pansy.
'Agreed. So, Miss Parkinson... Tell me about yourself.'
'There's nothing to tell. I'm starting Hogwarts this year--'
'Is that so?'
'Yes... I can't wait to escape my family.' Draco laughed at this; he could relate.
'Anyway... Continue...'
'Oh... I'm eleven, I hate my nose, and I hate the beautiful people.'
'The who?' Pansy nodded towards the door, just as a burst of high, false laughter rang out.
'Them. The beautiful people.. So perfect, so respected and envied and so utterly fake.'
Draco nodded. He sighed as he heard his mother's voice - 'Oh, we must get together again soon, Patricia darling... I just love your parties...'
Draco and Pansy looked at one another and laughed in unison. And so it began.
Mid-July, 1991 -- The Parkinson Estate
Pansy shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She hated Mother's dreadful parties.
It was all the same, all the time. Pansy sighed and ran her hand through her dark hair. She hated these parties her parents threw, they were so utterly dull.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the unpleasant sound of her mother's high, false laugh as one of the gentleman - A short man who was probably a Death Eater, just like her father - told a supposedly very amusing joke. Pansy sighed again, causing her mother to frown and glare at her before pasting her usual bright smile back on her face.
'Excuse me,' the eleven-year-old said politely, and left the knot of people.
'Your daughter's turning into quite a looker, Ms Parkinson,' the man said, in one of those false whispers that he must have known Pansy could hear. She made a faint noise of disgust and escaped to the garden outside.
She sat down on the back steps and rested her chin in her hands. Crickets sang, and the moon hung in the sky, looking rather like one of the large cookies the house-elves always made for her. She glared up at it. Then she glared at the water fountain bubbling beside her. Then she just glared at the world in general.
She really hated this life.
Well, to be fair - She didn't hate all of it. The pretty clothes and toys were so nice, and the respect her parents - Mother's voice floated out the window, 'Would you like another glass of wine, Mrs Goyle?' - had in their social circle (comprised mostly of Death Eaters) was good, but... She hated the rest of it.
She couldn't stand the boring parties and luncheons, despised the pleasantries and false friendships -- 'Narcissa, darling, your hair looks so unusual like that!' She could hear her mother coo from inside -- It all seemed so very pointless to Pansy.
Pansy punched the ground softly in frustration -- Even though Mother said that hitting things was unladylike -- and made what she hoped was a suitably threatening and angry sound. She was determined that she was not going to live the rest of her life like this.
...
Draco Malfoy stood uncomfortably in the corner of the room, shuffling his feet and trying to block out the noise of the conversations going on in front of him.
'... And so the bartender says, why the long face?' Gregory Goyle Senior took a long drink from his wine glass and laughed loudly at his own joke, sounding, to Draco, rather like a sick Hippogriff. The other adults laughed politely, and began contributing their own bloody boring jokes to the conversation. Draco winced and hung his head in embarrassment as his father told a particularly bawdy one.
Draco managed to look up long enough to see a girl of about his age slip outside. He had noticed her briefly earlier that evening, and hadn't really paid attention to her since. But now that he thought about it, she might be somewhat entertaining for him.
Trying not to be noticed by any of the adults, he sneaked across the room - stubbing his toe on a rather ugly table on the way - and hopped out the door as quietly as possible.
The girl was sitting down in what seemed a very mopey position. Draco wrinkled his pointed nose. He couldn't stand girls who played Damsel in Distress. He liked girls with spirit.
She wasn't, he decided, a particularly pretty girl - Her nose turned up at the end, and she had too many freckles. And there was that bloody mopey... thing... she was doing, too.
Just then, the girl, apparently not aware of Draco's presence, slammed her fist down on the ground beside her and emitted a strange shrieking noise. Ha, Draco thought, maybe she wasn't as soppy as she had seemed at first.
The girl must have heard him, because she turned to look at him. Embarrassed to be found staring, he started talking in a high, nervous voice.
'Er - Yes, sorry to bother you, I was just, er...' Draco Malfoy, usually composed and dignified -- as a Malfoy must always be -- hastily tried to come up with an excuse. The girl raised her eyebrows and laughed quietly.
Draco shuffled his feet again, wincing as he felt the sharp pain in his injured toe. Well, this was awkward.
Suddenly remembering the manners his parents had been so intent upon teaching him at an early age, he held out his hand to the girl.
'My name is Draco Malfoy, it's an honour to meet such a lovely lady as yourself, Miss, er...?' he trailed off.
'Pansy Parkinson. And please don't start acting like them, I came outside to escape that.'
'Oh, thank God!' Breathing a sigh of relief, Draco sat down beside Pansy. 'I take it, then, that you enjoy these little get-togethers as much as I do.'
'They're disgusting,' snarled Pansy.
'Agreed. So, Miss Parkinson... Tell me about yourself.'
'There's nothing to tell. I'm starting Hogwarts this year--'
'Is that so?'
'Yes... I can't wait to escape my family.' Draco laughed at this; he could relate.
'Anyway... Continue...'
'Oh... I'm eleven, I hate my nose, and I hate the beautiful people.'
'The who?' Pansy nodded towards the door, just as a burst of high, false laughter rang out.
'Them. The beautiful people.. So perfect, so respected and envied and so utterly fake.'
Draco nodded. He sighed as he heard his mother's voice - 'Oh, we must get together again soon, Patricia darling... I just love your parties...'
Draco and Pansy looked at one another and laughed in unison. And so it began.