A Pansy-centric fic because whatever Rowling says, I think she's an interesting character, and we didn't get enough of her in cannon. That said, I'm trying to respect the major parts of JKR's story. No Dransy (sorry), no suddenly good Pansy, and Harry/Ron/Hermione are still the heroes, but Pansy will have a lot to do and learn in this story. The story begins right after Goblet of Fire.

Disclaimer 1: I haven't written in years, so bear with me. The broad strokes are decided, but a lot of the story will develop organically.

Disclaimer 2: HP is obviously not mine.


"Dad, please?" His eyes were glued to the watch he'd taken apart. He hadn't heard. "Daaaad?"

"Your mother has already forbidden it. She must have good reason."

"But -"

"But nothing," her mother said, dropping a splotch of oil paint on the portrait she was finishing. "Pansy Agatha Parkinson, the last thing I want is for you to be working, especially with that spinster, Rita Skeeter. Don't take it the wrong way dear, but a plain girl like you, with such an unambitious academic record; well, at least you could behave according to your breeding."

"It's a summer internship! I'm the only Hogwarts student who received an offer, " she was proud of the fact even if her parents weren't. Her mother swept a glob of paint off the canvas with her wand, and went back to painting.

"Ugh," Pansy stormed off to her bedroom. She flung herself on the cold, silk bedspread and threw a frilly cushion at her door. She hadn't seen Draco since end of term, and Millicent was in Poland. Crabbe and Goyle were around, but without a pack of Gryffindor firsties to terrorize, they were no fun. The Prophet would at least make summer bearable, but no. If Helena Parkinson was going to be bored stupid at the manor all summer, then so would Pansy. Mother acted like Pansy wanted to Scourgify toilets for the daily. It was just writing. She wrote essays for potions and transfiguration all the time. She might even be good at it.

"Pansy dear," she buried her head under a pillow. "I do hope you're not crying. I hate how your eyes get all pink and swollen when you do. Lucius Malfoy will be at dinner."

She jerked the door open, "I'm not crying."

"Well, good. After that racing broom incident I wouldn't be surprised."

"That was almost three years ago, mother".

Mrs. Parkinson started walking away, "Do wear something nice. Wonky will be along to help you."

Pansy bit her lip thinking of something to wear. She frowned. No Draco or Narcissa then. A month into the summer holiday, and the Malfoys had not visited Parkinson manor at all. She finally chose an emerald green dress that complemented her eyes, and waited for the house elf. Pansy scrutinized her upturned nose and baby cheeks with a pearl hand-mirror. Downright dreadful; mother had been kind to call her plain. With a simple glamour she could be on the cover of Witch Weekly, but masking her looks sounded way too pathetic. Besides, she'd still be short for her age. Even that ponce Weasley liked to joke that she was half house elf. A jelly-legs jinx and a flight of stairs set him straight.

"Miss Parkinson, " Wonky apparated with a pop and bowed. "How may I help?"

"Just do my hair. An updo will be fine," she sat by the bedroom vanity. The elf and her ragged pillowcase looked so ghastly in her room. She shuddered as Wonky's shriveled, papery hands touched her hair. How disgraceful for even the noblest families to have servants that looked wrinkly as a mandrake root and dressed in sacks.

"No, not so fancy," she yanked some glittering hairpins out of her hair, and tossed them on the floor. "Something simpler. It's just dinner at home."

"So sorry," the house elf squeaked, and bowed to pick up the pins.

A few minutes later, Wonky had done well enough, and Pansy waved her off. "Dismissed."

She found her parents in the drawing room downstairs. Her dad hadn't moved. "Henry, will you please change into something more presentable," her mother pleaded.

"No need," he kept tinkering. "Lucius understands…its just dinner. We met…at the… ministry. I invited him."

"I'm sure that watch is far more important."

"Not just a watch," her father smiled. "It's a Pocket Docket." He looked at Pansy as she sat down. "They're used to track schedules. See," he twisted the winder a half turn.

A voice like a St. Mungo's siren assaulted them, "MEETING WITH: T.M. Ridddd-uull, AGENDA: Department of Mysstuurrreeeees, DATE: Octob—"

"That's not right. I don't even know anyone by that name. You get the idea." His wife was not impressed. "Oh, just let me be. I had a dreadful day at the firm."

Before anyone could ask, a chime echoed through the manor. Lucius had just apparated beyond the grounds. They walked to the entrance, and could already hear their carriage clomping along the cobblestone drive to deliver their guest.

"Lucius," her father bowed. "My friend, it's been too long."

"It has indeed." He kissed Mrs. Parkinson's hand. "Helena, lovely as always. I regret Narcissa and Draco's absence. I wanted just a quick word with Henry, but he tempted me with dinner." Lucius noticed Pansy beside her mother, "Pansy, dear. Good to see you again,"

"You as well, sir," Pansy curtsied.

"A long day at work Lucius?" He nodded as Helena led them into the estate. "A spot of tea in the parlour then?" She was already walking there.

"Not tonight, I'm afraid. I must be going soon. Perhaps we should take dinner straight away." How unexpected. It was most impolite to refuse entertaining before dinner.

"Of course," her mother's feet stuttered before walking to the dinning room. "We'll be having pheasant tonight, if that's alright."

"Certainly." A fourth chair appeared at the Parkinson table for their guest. Henry sat at the head of the table with Lucius and Helena on either side, and Pansy next to her mother. "Pansy you must be relieved to be home; away from the excitement surrounding that Diggory boy's tragic accident," Pansy gulped a mouthful of Sauternes. Her mother scowled.

"Yes. I didn't know him well, but it was quite a shock." She wanted to ask if the Dark Lord really had put Diggory out, but didn't want to offend Mr. Malfoy by implying he would know anything about it. As her father proved in court, Lucius was a noble man who was Imperiused during the first wizarding war.

"Draco too has been quite affected," hah, Pansy could just imagine. "Fortunately, you have most of the summer ahead. " He took a sip of wine. "Plenty of time to get out and forget this business before term resumes."

"Yes, I've wanted to get out more. Perhaps even intern somewhere," she looked at her mother. "The Daily Prophet offered me a summer post, though I've not made a decision yet."

"Splendid. The editor, Barnabas Cuffe, is a family friend. I'm sure you will establish many lifelong connections there. You must accept."

"Well, mother and father have the final say, of course." Pansy smiled at her mother. Lucius suspected he'd said something he shouldn't have.

"Yes, of course," Helena ground out. She squeezed Pansy's forearm under the table while Lucius started talking to her husband. Pansy smirked. Whatever scolding she was in for would have to wait until Lucius Malfoy left.

The rest of dinner, she and Helena were spectators while Henry and Lucius spoke about new trade restrictions the ministry was considering. Her mother nodded now and again. Pansy didn't pretend to care.

The table was cleared, and slices of dark chocolate cake appeared before them. "I hate being so forward," Lucius announced, "but I should come to the point of my visit."

Pansy's mother started dragging her away to let them speak privately. "Please, excuse us."

"Actually, Helena, this is a family matter," Lucius let them regain their seats.

"Come now, Lucius. Don't keep us in suspense," her father chuckled.

Malfoy remained stern. "I speak to you in strictest confidence." Everyone nodded. He tore his left sleeve back, revealing an angry scarlet tattoo. The dark mark. "The Dark Lord has returned."

Pansy stopped fiddling with her dessert, surprised to be trusted with such information. "We are still renewing our numbers, but grow stronger by the day. The Dark Lord rewards those who remained loyal to him, and will soon punish those who were unfaithful."

Her father spoke slowly, "Do you mean he has some grievance against us?" What was her father asking? The Parkinsons always spoke well of the Dark Lord, and honored the old ways. He couldn't possibly be displeased with them. "We've done nothing wrong."

"Correction: you have done nothing. While we fought for the prosperous future our kind deserve, the Parkinsons cowered at home." He sneered. "Ready to reap all the benefit with none of the sacrifice."

"I kept you all out of prison. Why, Yaxley would be rotting in a cell if not for me. Instead, he's working in Magic Law Enforcement," Henry was almost hysterical. "You, Lucius. Where would you be?"

"I'm here because I don't forget a favor, Parkinson, but don't hold it over my head," Lucius hissed. "You hurt the Death Eaters as much as you helped. The Dark Lord knows you encouraged Avery, Karkaroff, and even Bellatrix to give names. Bellatrix spat in your face, but the rest betrayed their brothers to the ministry. I've spoken on your behalf, but they are hollow words when you've refused service so many times."

"What of the Greengrass and Zabini families? They're openly neutral."

"The Dark Lord has a special interest in you."

Henry blanched. "Why?"

"Your parents gave their lives for him. He's disgusted to see their son become an armchair supporter. I assured him the Parkinsons just require proper motivation." Her father stared down at the table. Say something, Pansy thought. He should be proud, not look like a cornered mouse. "Soon the Dark Lord will require your services. Do not refuse him."

Lucius stood. "Until then, I'd like you to do something for me." He pulled a silk cloth from his pocket, and unfurled it on the table. "I chanced upon a rare item in Greece. The collector claimed it was the Ring of Gyges. Not that I believed him, mind you, but it is a curious thing." A gold band lay in the black cloth. Helena tried to touch it, but Lucius slapped her hand away. "Don't be daft. Your mind could be shattered on contact. The signs of powerful dark magic are undeniable." He turned back to Mr. Parkinson. "I'm most interested to learn the ring's secrets, once all protections and curses are lifted."

"I'll give it my best."

"See that you do," he stepped away from the table. "Don't disappoint me, or I may find myself disclosing to the Dark Lord your friendship with that defector, Regulus Black. After he disappeared, rumor had it you were his secret keeper."

"Nonsense," her father stammered.

"Let us hope so," Lucius walked toward the foyer. "I'm sure you'd like to be alone with your family. I'll see myself out. Remember: great are the Dark Lord's demands on us, but greater still will be his rewards."

Pansy stared down the hall when the door slammed shut. Helena regained her senses just enough to close her gaping jaw. A Malfoy or not, he had a lot of nerve treating her father like some Borgin and Burke's shop keep.

"I don't understand dad. Why are you scared?"

"Everyone who serves the Dark Lord is scared – or insane," he chuckled darkly. "Even Lucius. He wasn't here for our sake. He's afraid of associating with anyone not committed to the Dark Lord. Avery and the others too; they're ready to sacrifice me before admitting they betrayed their friends."

"It won't come to that," Helena reassured. "You still mourn your parents. The Dark Lord will understand, and welcome you to his service."

He ignored her. "They died for nothing. Muggles, despite their cleverness, are still just animals. They'll blow themselves up in a generation. There's no need to pledge our lives to a maniacal half-blood for it to happen."

"Henry!" Her mother protested. "What are you saying?"

Pansy's heart skipped. She'd never heard them say something against the Dark Lord. Voldemort was peerless, greater than Dumbledore. No one else had the will and strength to fight for all pure wizards and their rightful place. 'You-Know-Who' was just a silly pseudonym blood traitors and mudbloods used. A true wizard or witch had nothing to fear. Pansy knew that, but her father's face made her bones cold.

"What will you do, dad?"

"Serve, if I must. The Parkinson name has lasted centuries because we adapt, and above all else, survive."


A/N: I know RAB died stealing You-Know-Who's locket, but to everyone else it must have looked like he disappeared without a trace.

I'll try updating once a week, probably a similar length. Liked it? Hated it? Let me know, and thanks for stopping by.