A/N: A lot of emotions went into this chapter, but I'm not sure they come across as I intended. If you've made it this far, hopefully I've made you care more about Pansy (if you didn't already). Thanks for reading.
Disclaimer: HP belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing these characters.
- x
Pansy walked into the Great Hall as the evening post flew in. She had suffered through a private lunch with McGonagall who seemed afraid to set down her teacup too hard lest Pansy collapse like a house of cards. Griping about missing her friends saved her from an encore performance for dinner. She'd rather be there; in the Great Hall. Everyone would know when the evening Prophet came in. Besides, Slytherin would have her back if any obnoxious Gryffs, Puffs or Claws acted out.
A letter cannonballed into Draco's pumpkin juice as she sat down between him and Blaise. Further down, Cassius Warrington freed a bottle of Dr. Quicksweep's Broom Polish from its packaging. She scanned the hall. Cho Chang, the Weasleys, Lovegood all mocked her with the rustling of parchment. Letters from home. Letters she would never receive again. Pansy took a deep breath. "Hi, Draco. Blaise."
Draco nodded while sliding a letter opener under the wax seal of his soaked envelope. "Hey –", Blaise saw her red eyes splotched with tarred mascara. "You look ghastly Pans. Where have you been?"
Daphne and Tracey stopped talking to each other. "Zabini, you don't just tell a girl that she looks ghastly." Daphne flicked her hair back. "Poor Blaise, more handsome than Gilderoy Lockhart, less charming than a flobberworm."
Tracey laughed. "Daphne will make a gentleman out of him yet. Right, Pansy?"
She nodded, their banter muted by the lead wall in her chest. Pansy picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. "What's wrong?"
A salty drop rolled downhill along her face. She opened her mouth, but the words got lost from her brain to tongue. Four simple words she couldn't say: my parents are dead.
"Her parents are dead."
Count on Draco to be blunt around her. She covered her face to hide more tears. The bench creaked, and Draco's robes brushed her arm as he retreated further down the table. "Draco…"
"That git. What's his problem?" Tracey asked.
Pansy's hands trembled. He didn't even care. She walked him to Madam Pomfrey's when that hippogriff nearly tore his arm off. Checked on him after. Went to Yule Ball as his second choice when Daphne turned him down. After all that, his indifference should hurt more than the dull ached she felt, but it was a bee sting to the freight train that had run her through in Dumbledore's office. "It's true. They were murdered."
Tracey gasped, and Daphne stretched across the table and hugged Pansy. "I'm so sorry."
"Oh, Merlin." Tracey squeezed her. "Forget about Malfoy." Pansy wanted to float away, but the girls' arms anchored her. All around, dinner plates and silverware stopped clattering. She could hear wax dripping off the candles above her. With her head buried in Tracey's robes, she sensed every pair of eyes on them like a spotlight.
"Let-let go," Pansy begged over a stream of sobs.
"She doesn't want everyone staring," Blaise said. His left hand rested on Pansy's back, feeling every sniffle and shudder. For once Pansy was glad to be on the short side. Daphne and Blaise barricaded her from the rest of the hall. As well as two people can anyway. The other Slytherins had followed Draco a good four feet toward the other end of their table.
If Blaise and Daphne were her shelter from passing gapers, Tracey was a mother dragon. She glowered at some approaching Hufflepuffs, scarier than a horntail guarding a hatchling. The badgers scurried away. She cast a knee-reversal hex and sent a gobsmacked Ravenclaw backwards to her table. The rest of the hall could take a hint. Though, Tracey couldn't stop the whispers of 'death eaters' and 'blood-purist scum' that whipped Pansy's ears.
"How awful." Daphne whispered. Tracey snatched a copy of the Prophet from a passing first year, and smoothed it between them. On the front page, Parkinson Manor was a decayed tooth. Ivy strangled what walls still stood. A dark mark crowned its brow. Pansy read:
This morning aurors responded to reports of a UFO (muggle-speak for unidentified flying object) outside Windsor. Well, trust a muggle to confuse a glowing green skull with one of their flying trashcans. The team found a Dark Mark menacing the Parkinson estate! A first-respondent wishing to remain anonymous, recounts, "…we thought the Parkinsons must've done it. You know, had too much fire whiskey, an' blew the place up. I've seen ex-death eaters do worse." On entry, man and wife were dead in each other's arms like a macabre Romeo and Juliet. A passionate double suicide gone horribly right? Scrimgeour confirms the couples' wands were used to cast Unforgivables.
Lucius Malfoy, once a close family friend, cast another light on the deaths. "I recall Henry becoming quite excited with Sirius Black's escape two years ago. He began keeping company I prefer not to name, out of concern for my family's safety." Could notorious mass murderer Sirius Black have been hiding out at the Parkinson estate all these years? With more questions than answers, we can only guess whether the dark mark signaled a fatal feud with You-Know-Who's right-hand man, or the final goodbye of two embittered blood purists. This afternoon, Minister Fudge commented: "All Parkinson assets have been seized pending a thorough investigation to possible connections with Sirius Black and other criminal elements."
Readers will recall the confusion regarding whether Mr. Parkinson was one of You-Know-Who's loyal bootlickers, or just sold his soul to defend the same in court. That question has been more than answered today. Though fourteen years late, this writer his humbled at the reminder that, one way or another, justice comes to us all.
Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent
The article ended with a redacted close-up of her parents. They were stiff as gargoyles, knocked over and gaping in agony as their souls departed. "The Cruciatus." Blaise recognized.
Her mind fought a tug-of-war. Horror at the heap of tortured flesh that used to be her parents, clashed with rage at Skeeter's sensational slandering. Their stony faces wrestled with Lucius Malfoy's false testimony. The Cruciatus drove Longbottom's parents insane, and they were trained aurors. Her mum and dad had no chance. She looked at Daph, Tracey, and Blaise. At least they had to know. "Lies. Every word," Pansy said. "You-Know-Who killed my parents." The paper crumpled under her grip.
They didn't' say anything. Maybe they thought she was losing it. She wanted them to know. Everyone would know. Pansy would shout it from the top of the astronomy tower if she had to. "Voldemort killed them." She repeated.
Tracey flinched. Daphne recoiled like Pansy had stabbed her with a hot poker. Their voices quavered, "but he's gone."
"Lucius Malfoy says he's back. He told my dad—" A biscuit hit her head.
"Watch it, Parkinson," She struggled to connect the words with the sneering blonde who said them. Draco never talked to her that way before. "Spreading rumors can be dangerous business."
She flicked loose crumbs off her forehead and glared back. Satisfied, Draco continued talking to Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise cut him from her line of sight. "Think. What good has it done Potter and his cronies to cry about the Dark Lord to the heavens?"
"I won't let them smear dirt all over my parents' names." Pansy retorted. "You believe me, don't you?" Their lips parted and closed, eyes darted to the floor and then each other. The hesitation of a spinning top swirled from Daph to Tracey to Blaise and back; a hair away from falling over, then maddeningly wobbling on. Pansy got up, ready to storm out, when Dumbledore toppled the tension with a throaty cough.
The headmaster summoned a lectern. "By now, you are all aware of today's events. This morning Miss Parkinson's father and mother tragically lost their lives." Dumbledore smothered some lingering murmurs with a moment of silence. Pansy bent low over the table after some students stood and craned their necks in her direction. "I say lost when I should say taken. Taken in a way more terrible than any of us can image, and more terrible than any person deserves."
"As always, the ministry has its version of events. In this difficult time, I ask that you keep your minds open to other possibilities. More importantly, keep your hearts open. Nothing can replace the love of those closest to us, but friendship and kindness remind us that there is still good in the world; however dark it seems. Your house is your family, but remember that all of Hogwarts is an even larger family."
One big family. Right. Maybe she could share sob stories with Longbottom over butterbeer. Or start a You-Know-Who-Whacked-My-Family support group with Potter. She forgave Dumbledore's naiveté. No one else would say truer or kinder words for her parents. "We're here for you Pans. Anything you need." Tracey and Daphne said.
"So do you believe me then?" her left hand still strangling a copy of the Prophet.
"Well, it would explain why Malfoy acted like such a snot." Tracey swirled a spoon into her pudding.
"Mum and dad always said the Malfoys were very cozy with You-Know-Who." Daphne added.
"They don't tell you these things so you can go around broadcasting them." Blaise hissed.
"Blaise?" Pansy stared at him.
"Look. If that Beauxbatons girl could fail two Triwizard tasks without dying, Diggory can't have just dropped dead. Whatever happened, the Ministry covered it up. My mum's friends have been acting strange and whispering odd warnings too. Something's going on, but we need to keep our mouths shut." Pansy couldn't help smiling. Damn the rest of Hogwarts. As long as her friends supported her, anyone else could sod off. Blaise flicked his chin toward Draco's old seat. "Even Malfoy had the sense to burn his parents' letter."
His letter, of course. She sifted through the burnt scraps; autumn leaves made of parchment. Nothing. Blaise was right. Malfoy knew something. Whatever the reason he threw her under the carriage now, it was the same reason her parents died. That night, Lucius threatened her father. He might have betrayed them in the end.
Daphne tried to distract Pansy. "Draco is probably keeping quiet too. We'll sort it all out in the common room." She'd make sure of it. Whatever Malfoy knew, he'd already shared with the others, and it was enough for all of Slytherin to shun her.
"You should eat," Blaise suggested.
"I'm not hungry," Pansy said. "I better leave before everyone starts for their common rooms."
"Just a second. I'm still itching to hex whatever tosspots decide to get wise on the way out." Tracey grabbed a couple biscuits and waved the others off their seats. Blaise led the way with Pansy behind him. Daph and Tracey flanked her. They glided confidently across the hall, rising whispers following them out. Pansy just made it to the hallway when she heard a forced cough behind her. Weasley and Granger.
"Parkinson, umm," Ronald stumbled after the mudblood elbowed him. He was too fascinated by the stone floor to look up. He evidently forgot what he was doing there and Granger prodded him again. Potter stood behind them, guarding the Great Hall entrance. His hand hovered steady over his wand.
"What is it?"
Weasley scanned the exits still mindful of the witch anchoring him in front of the Slytherins. "This morning…your mum and dad…
…I didn't know…wished…
...drink poison...
…and…
….didn't know…"
Despite her meddling, Granger hid behind Weasley like she'd stumbled on a dire wolf caught in a bear trap. Or a wounded rabbit. Pansy couldn't decide what was worse: the muggleborn's pity or Weasley's intent to babble into next morning. "Five minutes and your thick head can't put together one sentence. Congratulations Weasley, you've astounded me with your idiocy. I'll be off now."
The pompous scar-head tramped toward her. "He's trying to apologize. It's more than your Slytherin mates did for you in there."
"We're right here you ponce, so just back off." Tracey stepped in front of Pansy.
"Harry, please." Granger had an arm on each of her friends. Potter and Tracey were trying to kill each other with mean glares. "We're sorry Pansy. Ron felt miserable when he found out and –"
"So miserable that bucktooth Granger had to drag him out here in a catatonic state." What rubbish. "Let me help you Weasley. Here's an apology:" Pansy clutched her heart theatrically. "Sorry your parents carked it. My wishing didn't make it so. I'm a ruddy wanker who can't even zip up his trousers properly, let alone be responsible for a-anyone d-dying." Tears budded and leaked out. "But it's still all my fault. S-Sorry…but I simply cannot let a single instant pass…without all Hogwarts knowing…" she wiped her eyes "…how gallant we Gryffindors are."
Blaise pulled her away. "We should go." Through the salt-water mist in her eyes, she got one last, blurry glance at the golden trio. Blaise and Daphne guided her downstairs.
"Sorry," Ronald called out. She didn't stop.
"Stupid Gryffindors have to make everything about them." Tracey scoffed as they arrived at a blank wall. "pura sanguinem." Some gaps in the center of the wall expanded to form a passage.
"Trying to suck up to Dumbledore," Blaise agreed. Pansy slumped at the L-bend of a green leather sectional. If she heard from Potter and friends again it would be too soon. She just had to break down in front of them. It wouldn't surprise her if they showed up with lilies and sympathy cards to Defense class on Monday. Sorry. Weasley echoed in her head. Pansy kicked a copy of Advanced Potion-Making off the mahogany coffee table. Bloody Dumbledore and his soppy speech.
"Pans, we should go to bed," Daphne suggested. "You've had a long day."
"Not yet. I want to know why Slytherin house suddenly decided that I don't exist. Even that freckled git at least stuttered at me."
"You rest. We'll talk to them."
"Do what you want. I'm staying here." No one left. Pansy kicked herself for dousing the conversation. She would have been a mess in the great hall without them. She needed them if there was any hope Draco would tell her something.
They stared out at the gossamer and emerald lake. Grindylows raced through fronds of seaweed catching stray minnows. "Sorry. It's just – they know something." Tracey and Blaise inched toward her.
"We're sorry too Pans." Tracey wrapped an arm around her. "I just don't think Draco will talk."
"He's turned the others against me. If I get in a row with Draco, one of the others might slip up and say something." They looked at her like she'd just failed to tie her shoes. No argument; it was a boneheaded plan, which is why she hoped one of them would suggest something better. Blaise and Tracey were pretty clever when the situation called for it. To her disappointment, no one said a thing. She went to a window and stared at the inky depths outside. The glass chilled her forehead. A good insult would help her build the right momentum with Draco.
Twenty minutes later, the Slytherins flooded in. Pansy charged to the head of wave. The group parted around her. Most headed straight for bed. "Oh, hey Parkinson. Wanna sign my copy of the Prophet?" Warrington stonewalled her into a corner. He tickled her nose with a ruffled quill. "Best get an autograph before Sirius Black whacks you too, I reckon." Pansy kicked him in the shin.
Great, she lost her temper on some tosser in the habit of catching bludgers with his head. Not a good start. She spotted familiar blonde hair swimming through a sea of Slytherin cloaks. Pansy put an arm out to stop him. "What's wrong Draco, Mad-Eye got your tongue?" Fine, it sounded better in her head, but she had his attention.
Draco wrinkled his nose. "More like avoiding a clingy woofer who thinks she's my girlfriend because I went to Yule Ball with her last year." The Slytherins behind him chuckled. "Stop following me about like a lovesick puppy. It's really quite pathetic."
Just the day before those words would have gutted her. Even now he managed to unhinge her. "Trust me, I loathe you right now. My parents were murdered, and none of you," she swept over the others who watched, "none of you will even look at me. Why?"
"Don't be dense, Parkinson. You think my father is pleased that the family attorney is a suspected death eater? How does that make him look? Whatever that failure you call a father did, 'Sirius Black' had every right to exterminate him."
"My father kept the pair of gutless worms that spawned you from going to Azkaban." If anything, the Malfoys feared that what her parents knew about them would get out. Not that her dad ever shared clients' secrets with her, but Draco didn't know that. "I know plenty about 'Sirius Black' and the Malfoys, so stop feeding us this tosh. Admit it; the Dark Lord killed them, and your father was too much of a coward to do anything."
"You're delusional. Everyone knows the Dark Lord is gone."
She had to rile up the other Slytherins if this was going to work. "Don't worry everyone. Your darling Slytherin Prince is just feeling shy. He forgets how much you all like to fawn at his magnificence." Theo Nott looked amused, but no one was jumping in. They were happy to remain spectators. She'd have to bluff a little. "While he works up the nerve, I've got loads to share though. Anyone like to know how his father faked being Imperiused?"
"Shut up." Draco shoved her. She was an insect to him. He mirrored the way Lucius sneered at her dad that night. Like father like son. And like his father, he wouldn't trust just anyone with his secrets. She was wrong. No one else in the common room knew anything. He'd decreed her an undesirable, and the rest followed along. Simple as that.
Draco smiled. She saw the laughter bubbling behind his face. He knew she had no real information on the Malfoys. Poor Pansy and her pathetic attempt to make him talk. Without thinking, she pushed his hands off and dipped forward. Her head plowed into his face, crunching the cartilage in his nose. She pounced and knocked him over while he staggered. The floor pounded his temple, and her knee thrust into his diaphragm knocking the air out of him.
Goyle tackled her as she swung at Draco. An invisible jab with the force of a flying brick burst her lips. She tasted iron, and felt warm blood catch on her chin. Pansy kicked Goyle in the stomach, making him no more than grunt, but managed to at least stand up. Crabbe was coming with Malfoy. She fished her wand out of her robes. "Petrificus Totalus." Crabbe dropped like a tree right on Goyle.
"Expelliar..." Draco was three steps away. "…mus." Her wand launched toward a dark corner, but not before she charged into him again, and knocked him against a portrait of Morgana Le Fay. His wand clacked against the floor. He pushed her, and elbowed her chest, but she bent him over with a wallop to his stomach, and threw him down. His wand lay at her feet and she picked it up. She straddled his waist, and pressed the wand into his Adam's apple. "Now, you're going to tell everyone the truth Malfoy." Her lips, now inches from his face, still bled. Her teeth flashed crimson. She was a vampire ready to make Draco bleed out every last secret he had.
"Aauugh," someone twisted her arm behind her back. Goyle. He turned her wrist till Draco's wand dropped to the floor. He yanked her off Draco, and into the air like a rag doll.
"You, bitchhh." Draco stood, and grabbed his wand.
"Hold it." Tracey and Daphne thrust their wands at Draco's back. Blaise pulled Goyle off of her. Blaise, Daphne and Tracey measured their actions on an invisible weight scale. They had the advantage, but weren't feeling predatory like Pansy. Draco would go for blood as soon as they released him. The other Slytherins would lynch them if this went any further.
"Brawling like muggles," Theo Nott scoffed. Despite his superiority, he'd sat through the whole thrashing, perched on a study table. He slid to his feet and smoothed a crease on his robes. His deliberate steps settled the room.
"-arkinson's da wun who's a raabid beast." Draco nursed a cut over his left eyebrow. With his nose mashed in, his words were a slurry Victor Krum would've envied.
"Tell them Draco." Pansy leapt at him once more. Blaise trapped her mid-stride.
"Stop Pans. This isn't helping anyone." One hand fumbled with Pansy, while another had his wand on Goyle.
With a lazy finger, Theo guided Draco's wand away from Pansy. "First Granger, now Parkinson. I don't think you'll want word of this leaving the commons." Nott swiveled toward Pansy. "You're mad Parkinson. Unless you need Snape to sort you out, I suggest you go to bed." Daphne came over to her. Nott waited until Blaise and Tracey lowered their wands. "Splendid."
"Yu'll reegr't this," Draco undid the jinx on Crabbe before walking off to the boy's dormitory. Crabbe dragged a petrified leg behind him.
Pansy waved to Blaise as Tracey and Daphne escorted her to their chambers. Nott was now threatening the younger Slytherins to keep their mouths shut the next day. She headed right for the bathroom and washed the blood out of her face. It was already caking up. When she came out, Daphne had a first aid kit sprawled on her bed.
"Let me see."
"It's fine, Daph."
"People are going to ask questions when your mouth resembles the wrong end of a blast-ended skrewt."
"And just which end is the wrong end of a blast-ended skrewt?" Tracey laughed.
"Oh, shut up." She spread some gooey green paste on Pansy's swollen lip. "There. It should be back to normal by morning." She reached into her robes. "I grabbed your wand before anyone nicked it."
"Thanks, Daph."
" 'Thanks, Daph'. Are you mental? What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't." Pansy scrunched her eyes. "It's just – they're gone. The way it happened - I at least need to know why."
"I know. I'm so sorry." Daphne and Tracey held her. They sobbed and shuddered in each other's arms. For a long while, she stood there letting Daphne pat her hair while her forehead rested on Tracey's shoulder. Without speaking they finally parted, and she rolled into her four-poster bed, drawing curtains around her.
The cold duvet reminded her that this would be her first night utterly alone. Her were parents gone. The manor was leveled. More than family heirlooms and furniture lay buried there. The long corridors she clambered along as a child. Dad's study, where she first played wizard's chess. The legacy and future mum and dad wanted for her. What would she do now? How could she face the world by herself? And she was alone. In one day she went from second or third most popular fifth year in Slytherin to being a ghost. After attacking Draco, she'd be public enemy number one.
"We love you, Pans. Just don't do anything that stupid again." She allowed one last tear to caress her face. The only happy droplet she cried all day.
A/N 1: Draco was a complete snot in this chapter, but this fic is not meant to vilify him (or anyone in particular). He'll have his moment yet (much further down the road). I really wanted to get McGonagall in this chapter, but it already had plenty going on. So you'll have to wait until next time.
A/N 2: I hope Blaise, Trace and Daph came out alright. There isn't much cannon on them, so it's harder to tell.
Drop me a review some time.
