Chapter Two: Student Victim/Junior Potioneer Number 1 (Slytherin)
It had been, Pansy surmised, the last straw. Draco Malfoy and she were through and by the time she was done the whole of Hogwarts would know it. She didn't need him anyway. Holding the old and very beat up brown leather day planner in her hands, she contemplated what she was about to do. Was it too rash? That thought was quickly drowned out by the desire to make him pay. Then, the Giant Squid surfaced and all thought left her mind. It was now or never.
The tableau of girl, the graceful arc of the day planner as it flew through the air, the Giant Squid's giant mouth eagerly consuming said day planner from the air, the brilliant color of the sunset over the lake, and it all coinciding perfectly with the Slytherin Quidditch team stomping by after practice- well- the scene was soon to be preserved in the form of detailed gossip for those who hadn't been there for it. It was simultaneously Pansy Parkinson's greatest moment of notoriety and her greatest moment of failure to date. She was caught and she didn't care. It was unforgiveable.
As if in slow motion, Draco Malfoy had lunged toward the day planner, dropping his expensive broom like the rubbish it was in comparison. The Giant Squid was long gone with his day planner by the time he had fallen into the lake. It was also Draco Malfoy's greatest moment of failure to date. His lists, his dreams, his ambitions- all were gone in a single moment. He had carelessly left his day planner laying about for the taking. His arrogance had finally cost him. It was unimaginable. At least his hair had gleamed in the dying sunlight. Beauty could always be found in unfortunate circumstances.
A Slytherin who got caught red-handed wasn't cunning. What is more, a Slytherin without ambition wasn't a Slytherin worth their salt. The day planner was the classic symbol for the goal-oriented.
A very wet Draco Malfoy confronted a very smirking Pansy Parkinson. Pansy noticed with an almost clinical detachment that he was gasping for air and had she actually seen tears in his eyes? She quickly deduced that it was merely the lake water and the fading sunlight playing tricks on her eyes. She would not feel guilt.
"You. Utter. Bitch," Draco quietly seethed. "That day planner belonged to my grandfather. You'll pay for that, Parkinson."
A legacy planner, as had long been suspected then. Old, worn, proud- he never would have bought a new day planner- not for all the galleons in Gringotts. It was exactly why she took it.
Someone in the crowd made the hell hath no fury like a woman scorned comment to general male laughter, and it struck her as being ever so typical. She was tired of it.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but only Avada Kedavra can kill me," she taunted.
"Oh, shove off, Parkinson!" the other voice sounded in response.
Montague. Pansy had never cared for Montague, useless waste of space that he was. Honestly, who was hopeless enough to be stuck in a broom cupboard, toilet, vanishing cabinet, whatever the hell it was, for weeks? She didn't need his snide remarks. Hell, she didn't need any of them.
Find your true friends, indeed. What a load of rubbish that all turned out to be.
Pansy ran. She didn't care where she was going. If it was toward the castle or away from it, it seemed to no longer matter. Her vision was blurred, her cheeks were wet, and she vaguely wondered how it had all come to this?
Apparently, she was a creature of habit, because she found herself somewhere in the dungeons when she stopped. Rather, she was stopped by a spell in the corridor near Snape's office. It was not a pleasant way to be reminded of one's surroundings.
As if summoning the man by thinking of him, she vaguely noticed that he was on the other end of the long ebony wand that was responsible for stopping her high speed careening down the corridor.
"Out for a stroll are we, Miss Parkinson?"
"Yes, thought I might, Professor," she responded through a stream of tears.
Snape took one look at her face and sighed.
"In."
He opened the door to his office and motioned for Pansy to precede him inside. She obediently walked inside only to see Snape point to a chair on the other side of his desk.
"Sit."
She did that too. Pansy began wiping her eyes on the sleeves of her robes in a vain attempt to compose herself. Snape sat down behind his desk and contemplated her over steepled fingers.
"What did you do?" he asked softly.
She immediately started bawling.
"Wh-why do you as-sume I did any-thing, Professor?"
Snape merely raised an eyebrow and waited. Pansy bawled harder.
"If any-thing, I-I'm the victim here!"
Snape's dark eyes glittered at her. If she didn't know better, she would have said the man was amused. He remained resolutely silent and she knew what he was doing. It was supposed to make her uncomfortable enough to confess. That she knew and he knew that she knew was irrelevant, because it was working. She had always been susceptible to this particular tactic.
She let out a particularly pathetic sob.
"Oh, Professor! He- he told me- he told me he didn't love me any-more!"
She chanced a glance at Snape who actually rolled his eyes at her.
"And I- I was just so an-gry!"
She wondered how long Snape would remain silent. Usually, he was known for monologuing. He was certainly not the most patient of people. She attempted to compose herself again.
"Perhaps I acted rashly."
The professor noticeably perked up at this information and gave her a shrewd look.
"Rash is just a fancy word for-"
"Gryffindor, I know, Professor," Pansy supplied meekly.
"Yes. However, that apparently didn't stop you from doing- whatever it was you did. So, I repeat, Miss Parkinson, what did you do?"
Pansy, who would purposefully evade until the last, felt a surge of anger at Snape's question. Wasn't she justified in her actions? Hadn't Draco wronged her one too many times?
"He deserved it! Swanning about- cool as you please- as if he was the most important wizard to ever grace Hogwarts, with no time at all to spare for the rest of us. Arrogant, self-important toe-rag!" Pansy spat disgustedly.
Snape's face had taken on a surprised look, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"So, whatever you did has to do with Potter?" he asked incredulously.
His assumption that one of his Slytherin girls would stoop so low as to give Harry Potter the time of day, and further be upset about wronging him, rankled. Was Snape not listening to a word that Pansy had said? She gave an irritated sigh.
"Professor, I don't even want to know how you came to that conclusion. Potter! Really!"
Pansy paused to give a derisive snort.
"I was talking about Malfoy."
This time she noted a look of concern, and she was certain it wasn't directed at her. It figured that Malfoy would have Snape in his pocket. It was just like a man to take the side of another of his species over that of a resourceful girl who had once helped him out by spreading disinformation about Professor Lupin, Harry Potter, and whoever else. Snape turned a menacing eye on her.
"Just what did you do to Mister Malfoy, Miss Parkinson? You'd better be forthcoming with the details. I know that scathing tongue of yours is quite good at spinning tales, so don't leave anything out. I'll know, I assure you," Snape said nastily.
"Now, Professor, is that any way to treat one of the prefects of this fine institution?" she asked sweetly. "Also, Daddy's been meaning to have a parent/teacher conference with you for ages, did you know?"
Everyone knew that Snape abhorred parent/teacher conferences, especially with parents who could be particularly demanding. Parents like Pansy's, for instance. Usually, Pansy wasn't nearly so reckless with resorting to threatening authority figures, but today she was apparently getting in touch with her inner Gryffindor. Snape had officially brassed her off. She was willing to use every weapon in her arsenal.
Snape didn't appear phased. Instead he gave her an evil smirk.
"Don't play with me, little girl. It will only end in misery, regret, and endless detention. Do you honestly think I really care about your petty schoolgirl squabbles?"
It was being said quietly that made it all the more menacing in Pansy's expert opinion. She much preferred the concerned Professor persona, and dearly wished he'd come back from where he'd scampered away to.
Pansy huffed and crossed her arms. If she was playing at being a Gryffindor today, then why not go all out? She dared to do what adults everywhere loathed- she rolled her eyes at him. Pansy. Rolled. Her. Eyes. At. Professor. Snape. She did. With yet more clinical detachment than was surely healthy in a young lady her age, she noticed that this produced a tic in Snape's left eye and he looked barely able to conceal his rage.
"Did you just do what I thought you did?" he seethed.
Then, Pansy did the second thing that never failed to irk all adults the world over. She smirked. However, it was the third offense that sealed her fate. She denied everything.
"What?"
She'd make him say it. Pansy wasn't about to admit to anything. She'd deny everything with Draco too. Even though there were witnesses and she had been on the verge of spilling everything only moments before.
"You just rolled your eyes at me!"
"No, I didn't."
"So, it's going to be like that, is it?"
"Like what?"
"Detention, Miss Parkinson! For a week!"
Pansy stood hastily, which knocked her chair over.
"What? But I didn't do anything!"
"So, you're going for two weeks now. You'd better watch your tone with me, girl!"
"And you'd better watch your tone with me!"
Pansy was quite glad that there was a desk between her and Snape. She wished that she could say the same thing about his wand not being conveniently at his disposal. Furthermore, why did Snape even have an office in the dungeons, considering that he now taught DADA and should have had an office next to his new classroom? Just because he was the Head of Slytherin didn't mean he should have an office conveniently near them.
That Snape was able to moderately compose himself before speaking to her alarmed Pansy even more than his apparent rage. Snape looked entirely too happy when he spoke again.
"But why wait for detention to start tomorrow? After all, idle hands are the Devil's playground."
Pansy defiantly held her ground and lifted her chin at a haughty angle so she was looking down her nose at everything. She knew it was this particular look of disaffected superiority that caused her to be labeled with the Pug-face Parkinson moniker. However, she had a modicum of dignity to maintain. How bad could this detention be? Snape didn't even teach Potions anymore, so nasty ingredients were right out.
"I'll have to check my schedule," she said calmly.
Pansy then pulled out her own day planner from her robes. Unlike Draco Malfoy, Pansy had two day planners. One was in the traditional leather, and she kept it up for appearances sake. Really, it would be no great loss if it were stolen. It was her decoy planner. The one she pulled out of her robes though, it was her real planner, and it looked hideous. It was pink and purple and had a unicorn and a rainbow on the front.
Snape had the look of a man who wanted to throttle her, and yet his face held a look of disgusted interest when her hideous day planner emerged. It was this look of affronted disgust Pansy had gone for when she purchased this particular day planner. Who would even want to steal it and be seen with it? Honestly, had Umbridge taught the man nothing? It was the only worthwhile lesson Umbridge had taught Pansy anyway, even if it was an unintended lesson. It never hurt to hide your ambitions behind a veneer of disgustingly kitsch girlishness.
If anything, Snape's look of disgust became more pronounced when she actually opened the planner. His lip curled. Pansy had to hide a smirk. It was the little hearts and doodles she had drawn in the margins that had caught Snape's attention. That all the little hearts had plans for revenge and spells for enemies and rivals was yet another one of Pansy's brilliant innovations.
"Oh, you're in luck, Professor. It appears as if I have a free block of time tonight."
"Put that thing away, Miss Parkinson," Snape growled.
Snape thundered over to the door in a swirl of his teaching robes and slammed it open. If one of his hands lingered in a white knuckled grip on the edge of the door for a moment longer than it should have, Pansy wasn't going to be the one to point it out. She did have some tact. Snape turned and motioned her through first.
"We're going to the Potions lab."
"But —"
"Not. One. Word."
"Right."
Pansy wasn't looking at Snape, but she could imagine that he was gritting his teeth. The thought made her somewhat happy. She sort of thrived on getting reactions out of people.
It was a half-hour into her detention, when Pansy was elbow deep in some nasty rat spleens, that Snape decided the time was right to finally grace her with the sound of his melodious voice.
"I've decided to make a deal with you, Miss Parkinson."
Pansy was immediately wary. A Slytherin did not propose a deal unless they were certain that the other party would not only agree, but that they were getting the better end of the deal. So really, this wasn't going to be a deal at all, but blackmail. It would be exactly what she would do anyway.
She started to feel an itch on her nose, and was that a strand of hair in her eye that had become separated from the rest of her immaculately bobbed black coif? She could do nothing about either with rat spleen all over her hands. She kept cutting rat spleens and glanced up with an affected look of nonchalance.
"Professor?"
Snape didn't appear fooled in the least. In fact, he gave her a knowing smirk.
"You may pretend otherwise, but you're certainly not hopeless at Potions. In fact, you made an O on your Potions O.W.L.."
Pansy narrowed her eyes. What was Snape playing at? He didn't teach the subject anymore, but yet he was supervising her detention in the lab, and talking about her in association with the subject. She didn't like where this was going.
Snape didn't wait for her to respond.
"And seeing as you've landed yourself into many detentions for your antics today- what would you say if I could make all of it officially go away?"
"Officially?"
"Yes, no marks on your permanent record. No records of detention whatsoever. No mention of your little incident with Mister Malfoy- we'd ignore it altogether. Why, as far as I'd be concerned, there was no incident with Malfoy. Plus, you'd get to keep your prefect badge- and I would personally recommend you for Head Girl over Granger, and I could definitely win over some of the other Professors in your favor. Provided —"
His voice really was quite tantalizing with the tale he was spinning. Good thing she was prepared to resist with her faculties intact. He'd threatened to take away her prefect badge, while encouraging her by dangling the carrot of Head Girl in front of her eyes. Oh, he was good.
"Provided?"
"Provided you do a few things in exchange. Mere trifles in comparison to what I'd be doing for you."
Pansy was intrigued and annoyed at the same time. He was obviously getting something out of all of this, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what.
"What sort of mere trifles are we talking about, Professor?"
"You'd come to this lab every single Monday evening from seven to nine and brew the various potions on the list I'll give to you. Also, you'll fill out this form right here."
Snape took a folded parchment from his frock coat and held it in front of her nose so she could read it. She did have rat spleen on her hands, after all.
"This is an application for a junior membership in The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers."
Hadn't her great-grandfather been in that? Wasn't it like some kind of old wizards' auxiliary club? It sounded dreadfully dull.
"So, it is."
"Why?"
"This is a need to know basis only, Miss Parkinson."
"What if I say no?"
She wanted to know what further consequences the man had in store for her if she refused. There was always a Plan B with Slytherins who wanted things to go their way.
"Then kiss that ridiculous day planner with unicorns and rainbows of yours goodbye. I know evil when I see it. The world would be better off without that thing lurking about."
To Pansy's astonishment, Snape pulled her day planner, which she distinctly remembered putting back in her robe pocket, out of his robe. She panicked.
"You didn't read it did you?"
"I read enough."
"You drive a hard bargain, Professor."
"I've got a quill right here for you to fill out the application."
Damn it! She could have lived through losing her prefect status, but she couldn't live through losing her own day planner!
"I'll just go wash my hands then, shall I?"
"I knew you'd make the right decision. You're cleverer than most."
High praise indeed, but she still hadn't signed the application yet. Pansy knew he'd keep up the solicitous talking until the deed was done.
He handed the quill to her and it was dripping with the red ink he used to grade papers. Pansy always knew that Professor Snape was the devil.
After she finally signed her name, she saw the look of triumph in Snape's eyes.
"Welcome to the Society, Miss Parkinson! And remember, you tell no one about any of this. Not one word."
Pansy immediately nodded in agreement, and held out her hand.
"My day planner?"
"Ah, I'm afraid I'll be holding onto it for a little while longer. Insurance. I'm sure you understand. If it's any consolation, I gave you the choice I never had."
With that, Snape was out the door and Pansy was left alone. It was no consolation. She was bereft. He'd taken her day planner! There was no way she'd be able to sleep until it was back in her grasp. Oh, Snape was good, she'd give him that!