Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Position: Chaser 2

Team: Montrose Magpies

Task: (Mirror Dimension) Write about a story where good is evil and evil is good, or you could write about reverse characterizations. Think polar opposite from canon.

Optional Prompts

(Action) Whistling

(Dialogue) "Love is one long sweet dream… and marriage is the alarm clock."

(Word) Sarcasm

Warning: Implied rape and violence.

Word count: 3026

Justice Is a Dish Best Served with Murder

10/06/2001

When Pansy Parkinson opened her door, she was not expecting to see Potter and Weasley. Since the end of the second wizarding war, Aurors were sent to inspect the homes of former Death Eaters once a year. Their mission was to search for suspicious objects and illegal items. The Aurors had always been female and Pansy preferred it that way.

"What happened to Bell and Patil?" Pansy asked them. When the two women came around, Pansy made a habit of staying in her nightdress. It was her home, and she refused to dress correctly during the invasion of her privacy. She wanted them to feel uncomfortable, but with the arrival of the two men, Pansy found that the tables had turned. She pulled her flimsy dressing gown tighter, regretting her decision straight away.

"Auror Bell is on maternity leave and Auror Patil is ill. Not that it's any of your business," Weasley told her, looking her up and down with contempt.

"The sooner you let us in, the sooner you'll be free of us," Potter added. An awkward silence ensued, but Pansy knew she didn't have a choice.

She stepped back and let them in, wishing that her mother was there. The witch had done a runner when the shit had hit the fan, and Pansy hadn't seen her since. Her father was in Azkaban. She was an only child, and for the first time, she wished for a sibling.

"Nice dressing gown. Do you always put in such effort for Bell and Patil?" Weasley asked as Potter snickered.

She glared at them, biting down on a retort. Sarcasm was often her weapon of choice, but it wouldn't do her any good. "You can start while I get changed. I don't have to follow you both around like a lap dog, do I?"

The two men stared at each other, communicating silently in a way that creeped Pansy out. There was a question in Potter's eyes, but she didn't know what he was asking. When Weasley nodded, a shiver went down Pansy's spine. "Go ahead and change," Weasley told her.

As quick as a flash, Pansy headed up the stairs. Maybe she could send an owl to Daphne asking her to come over. Potter and Weasley's behaviour unnerved her, but she couldn't explain why. They hadn't done anything untoward.

As if to prove her point, she heard footsteps behind her. She picked up the pace, and so did they. Pansy ran to her bedroom and made to shut the door, but she wasn't quick enough. A hand pushed the door open with enough force to knock her to the ground.

Before she could get up, they surrounded her. Potter was the ringleader, undoing the fastener on her dressing gown before he pinned her hands to the ground. Weasley pointed his wand at her throat.

"I've been wanting to do this since you tried to give me to Voldemort, Parkinson," Potter told her, bringing his face closer to hers and nipping at her lips. She whimpered and tried to turn away, but this just spurred him on. "Are you going to be good and take your punishment—or do you need some persuading?"

Weasley dug his wand further into her throat. Pansy shuddered. Potter was so heavy on top of her and she didn't have her wand close to hand. She nodded as a tear rolled down her cheek, dripping onto the hard wooden floor.

"Good," Potter murmured as his hands groped her body. He didn't bother holding her hands still anymore. She was beaten and they all knew it.

Pansy closed her eyes and waited for it to be over. She'd heard of people who froze, but she never thought she'd be one of them. They should have screamed, she once said to Daphne. Now here she was, lying on the floor, unable to make a sound.

When they left her crying in her room, she could hear Potter whistling a tune that sounded like the Hogwarts song. The sound grew quieter until Pansy couldn't hear it any longer. She got into bed and curled up under her covers, wanting to disappear from the world and never return.

10/12/2001

Granger dragged her name and character through the mud. In many ways, Pansy had felt like she was being raped all over again. The process was invasive and the scales were weighted against her.

She was the victim, but all of her actions were judged as if she was the one on trial. Even her clothes were shown in court. Her ex-boyfriends were contacted and asked questions about her. In the eyes of the court, the victim was at fault.

"Miss Parkinson knew that Aurors were coming round to do an inspection, and yet she stayed in her nightclothes. Why would she do that if she hadn't had an ulterior motive?"

It was her home and the Aurors had no business there. Why did she have to pay for her father's crimes?

"If Miss Parkinson was held down as she claimed, why didn't she scream or try to fight them off?"

Fight, flight, or freeze; Pansy had done the latter. Who had been around to hear her scream anyway? She wasn't strong enough to fight them off and they would've hurt her if she tried.

"Since her breakup with Draco Malfoy, Miss Parkinson has dated many wizards. Perhaps she seduced them, and out of guilt, she accused them of rape."

She'd once had a social life and gone on dates. Now, she was afraid of her own shadow.

"Miss Parkinson wanted to give Auror Potter to Voldemort before the Battle of Hogwarts. Is this cry of rape an attempt to take revenge?"

She had made a stupid decision out of fear when she was seventeen. It would haunt her to the grave.

Potter and Weasley smiled smugly when they were found not guilty. Their friends and family gathered around, pulling them into hugs and shaking their hands. Pansy kept her eyes on the floor and walked out alone.

02/06/2002

Pansy cursed as she put down the Daily Prophet. Potter and Granger had married in a lavish ceremony the day before and Weasley was the best man. There was a picture of the three of them, beaming at the camera like they didn't have a care in the world.

Meanwhile, Pansy rarely ventured outside unless she had to. The thought of being alone with a man was enough to bring on a panic attack and marriage was out of the question.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the arrival of Daphne Greengrass and Astoria Malfoy. The former was her best friend, but the latter was a surprise; the women were not close. Astoria was the woman Pansy wanted to be and she had everything that Pansy had ever wanted.

Pansy glared at Daphne. "Why did you bring her with you?"

Daphne rolled her eyes and took a seat next to her. "Now is not the time to bring up your petty rivalry. We're here to plot revenge."

Pansy scoffed as she looked over at the pair. They looked immaculate in their robes and she felt like a slob in her pyjamas. The less said about her hair, the better. Her teenage self would be mortified about what she'd become, but her present self was past caring. Everyone outside of her friendship group judged her anyway, so what reason did she have to make an effort?

"Have you seen the papers? How am I supposed to get revenge when they are the darlings of the wizarding world?"

Astoria cleared her throat and sat down. "We can't just let them get away with it. Think about how many witches they can hurt now they know there are no consequences."

"That's easy for you to say. You weren't the one they attacked."

Astoria flinched and drew a shaky breath. Pansy arched her eyebrows quizzically and looked to her friend for answers. "Weasley raped Astoria when he inspected Malfoy Manor three weeks ago. Astoria was home alone and had no warning about the inspection."

The younger witch sniffled. "He… he said he'd always wanted to take something belonging to Draco. To him, I wasn't even a human being. I was just a pawn in his chess game against my husband."

"He dared her to tell someone and take it to court," Daphne snarled. "As if we would after the way they treated you. We can do better than that."

Pansy blinked, still taking everything in. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," her friend continued, "that we're going to stop them once and for all."

"How?"

Daphne grinned, looking every inch the cunning Slytherin. She'd been a tower of strength to Pansy, and she regretted not letting her friend come to support her during the trial.

"Are you free on Friday?"

Pansy rolled her eyes as she drank her firewhisky. The liquid burned her throat in a familiar, comforting way. Drinking stopped her from feeling numb—it was the only time she felt alive. Her dad was a drinker. Like father, like daughter, it seemed. She drank enough for both of them while he rotted in Azkaban.

"Do I look like someone who has plans for Friday?"

Daphne laughed and Astoria managed a small smile as she wiped her tears. Pansy wondered how she did it. Three weeks after her rape, and Astoria was still groomed to perfection. Almost a year had passed since hers, and she was a wreck.

"Excellent. Meet us in the Leaky Cauldron at 3 o'clock."

Pansy failed to see how this was going to help them. While drinking away her troubles sounded perfect, it wasn't a good start to the revenge plot that Daphne had mentioned.

"And how is drinking going to help us stop two rapists?"

"We'll be your alibi. You and I will be Astoria's."

"Alibi for what?" Pansy asked, starting to catch on. Her heart was beating fast as she awaited the answer. She hoped that she was right; she hoped that she was wrong. In short, Pansy didn't know what she hoped.

"Murder."

07/06/2002

For the first time since the rape, Pansy found herself putting on makeup. She looked in the mirror after applying her blood red lipstick. The woman she used to be was within her reach and Pansy had missed her greatly. She would do whatever it took to get her back. If she stopped other women from suffering the same fate, that could only be a good thing.

Pansy chose a long black dress that hadn't seen the light of day in over a year. It seemed like the appropriate choice. She glanced at her reflection once more before Apparating.

Daphne and Astoria were already there. Pansy was glad to see that Astoria looked as nervous as she felt. Astoria had gone for lighter makeup and was wearing a pastel coloured dress. In stark contrast to her sister, Daphne looked calm as she asked Pansy what she wanted to drink.

"A double firewhisky, please."

The woman who'd brought them together headed to the bar, leaving them shrouded in silence. Pansy cursed Daphne for leaving them alone.

Astoria surprised her by being the first one to speak. "Are you sure about this?"

"No," Pansy said. "Are you?" Astoria had never struck her as someone who belonged in Slytherin. She seemed too soft—too gentle. How on Earth was this woman supposed to kill?

"No, but I can't keep quiet and let them get away with this." Astoria looked around to check that no one was listening. Loud voices filled the air in the pub, so Pansy didn't think they had anything to worry about. "The law won't punish them . . . "

"So we must," Pansy finished. "They have a vendetta against Slytherins and these inspections help them. It could be a friend or loved one next. Tracey, Millicent, or even . . . "

"Daphne," Astoria whispered. "I won't let that happen." The women watched Daphne walk back with the drinks.

"Both of you should buy a round at least once. You want people to notice you," Daphne told them. Pansy nodded and downed her drink, needing the dutch courage.

"I'll get a round in before I go to the loo. Same again?" The sisters nodded and Pansy went off to the bar, coming back a few minutes later with their drinks. "Wish me luck," she said as loud as she dared. Both Astoria and Daphne wished her luck.

No turning back now.

Pansy stepped into the cubicle and locked the door. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves before Apparating. She arrived outside Grimmauld place and pulled her cloak up. No one had seen her, thank Merlin. She opened her bag and found her thick gloves, putting them on as she headed to Potter's house.

Daphne had done her research and Pansy knew that Potter had the day off. He should be at home. Granger would be at work and wasn't due back until after six. The woman was a workaholic.

Pansy didn't have to wait long before Potter answered, doing a double take when he realised who she was. It took all of Pansy's strength to stand there and face him, but she'd come this far and she wasn't going to back down.

"What're you doing here?"

His drunken slur told her this would be easier than she'd thought. She wasn't exactly sober herself, but she could hold her drink. The way Potter was swaying on the spot told her that he didn't drink very often.

"I don't want any trouble. I just want to talk."

He relaxed his shoulders a little and stepped away from the door. She had her wand in her hand as she passed him, but she hid it in the large sleeve of her cloak.

"Ladies first," he murmured. It was almost suave, apart from the little hiccup he released straight after.

"Such a gentleman," she muttered, fighting to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Pansy felt his eyes on her body as she walked, and she clutched her wand tightly.

"Through here," Potter told her. "That's my study." Pansy nodded and walked through, her eyes landing on a half-full bottle of firewhisky. She had something in common with her rapist. Pansy shuddered at the thought.

Potter staggered to his chair and sat down. His hand closed around his glass and gripped it so tightly Pansy was surprised it didn't shatter. Green eyes watched her as he tipped the liquid down his throat. She held his gaze with stubborn determination. Potter looked away first.

"Love is one sweet dream. . . and marriage is the alarm clock."

Pansy raised an eyebrow and wondered if Potter had suffered one too many bumps to the head. "I wouldn't know," she murmured in a waspish tone. The bastard had ruined any chances of her trusting a man again—of that Pansy was certain.

"I married her last Saturday. You want to know what I found out three hours ago?" Potter poured himself another drink and looked at her expectantly. He really was a needy arse.

"Not really," she replied, knowing he would tell her anyway. A wounded part of her enjoyed his misery and wanted to know. The vengeful side hissed at her to get on with her mission. Pansy could almost smell the blood in the air. Justice was calling to her—she just had to pick the right moment to strike.

"They've been seeing each other behind my back for months. My best friend and my wife. How could they do that to me?" Potter was practically crying into his drink.

"Diddums." Her sarcasm reared its ugly head and wouldn't be stifled. Pansy was past caring.

Potter looked up at her, his eyes roaming over her body in a way that made her feel sick. It spurred her on, and she knew she'd have to act soon. How long would it be before he stopped talking and attacked her again? She could see the hunger in his eyes.

"Since you're here, you can make me feel better, my Slytherin slut."

He stood up and Pansy grabbed the bottle, bringing it down on his head as hard as she could. Blood and glass went everywhere, but Pansy's overlarge cloak and gloves shielded her from the damage.

She kept hitting him until the bottle was nothing but shattered glass. Potter collapsed onto his desk, his face a bloodied, broken mess. Blood flowed from his neck and onto the mahogany desk. Pansy waited as his garbled breaths slowed and came to a halt.

When she knew it was over, she grabbed Potter's lifeless hand and dipped his fingers in the blood. On a spare bit of parchment, she wrote Hermione. His wife had helped him inflict misery on Pansy and she would pay for it. Pansy whistled the tune to the Hogwarts song as she worked.

Pansy used her wand to clean herself up and disapparated back to the toilets in the Leaky Cauldron. After taking off her gloves and cloak, she shoved them in her bag and left the cubicle. She would destroy them later.

"Sorry," Pansy told Daphne and Astoria as she sat down. "The queue was murder and I had to powder my nose. Pansy nodded in answer to their curious glances and the women smiled.

"I'll buy you both a drink and then I'll join the queue," Astoria told her as she headed to the bar. When she came back with the drinks, Pansy and Daphne wished her luck and told her not to get lost in the crowd.

Astoria returned fifteen minutes later, looking fresh as a daisy with not a hair out of place. A subtle nod told them everything they needed to know. Pansy had a newfound respect for the younger witch. Despite her delicate appearance, Astoria was tough as nails.

A few hours later, the murders of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were announced. As cries of dismay echoed around them, the three women clinked their glasses under the table.

As far as they were concerned, justice had been served.

A.N: I love Harry, and Ron is my favourite character. This story simply fitted the prompt I was given perfectly and I went with it. Thank you for reading.