Part Two. Chapter Twelve.
Pansy. Two days later. Shell Cottage.
She hadn't had a hallucination since Draco pulled her from the bathtub.
Two days had passed since their arrival, and aside from drinking with Charlie on the first night, really it was the morning, she hadn't a drop of alcohol since. Even before that, her vision had cleared. It's as if when she was pulled from the water that she realized she had to try to live with her demons.
Potter approached her on the second morning, after breakfast.
"We need to have a meeting, the four of us, up in mine and Draco's room, can you meet us there in an hour?" He asked her, running a hand through his unruly dark hair.
"Sure," she said easily, leaning back in her chair. She had been slow sipping her cup of tea, now cold, all morning, and she reached out to trace the lip of the mug idly.
He looked surprised she had been so agreeable. She quirked an eyebrow at him as he stood before her, uncertain. "Was there something else you needed to ask me?"
"Er, no, sorry," Harry said and turned to leave before turning back to her. His glasses were crooked on his nose, and slightly smudged. She thought it funny, since he was
"supposed" to be all-powerful. "Actually, I thought you might want some new clothes."
She looked down at her rumpled oversized robes she was swimming in. Beneath it she only wore undergarments, she hadn't thought about seeking other clothes to change into. "Whose clothes? Are you offering?"
He frowned, thinking she was being rude, but when she quirked her mouth up in a crooked smile he gave a sheepish grin.
"No, but I heard Fleur tell Hermione and Luna they could go through some old things upstairs, I'm sure it's still up there, it was a big box."
"Is that your way of telling me this robe makes me look fat?" She chuckled darkly and he gave a jerky laugh, so uncertain on how to read her pleasantness.
"I think it makes you look more like Snape," he offered, a sly look on his face, "all billowing."
She gave a snort and whipped her sleeves around and they laughed when it billowed.
"Alright, o' fearless leader, I'll go upstairs and change and then I'll meet you for the meeting in an hour," She stood up and took her mug to sink, pouring out the stale tea and placing it on the rack.
"Great, I mean, thanks," Potter ran a hand through his hair again. She wanted to tell him that if he kept doing that he might go bald, but she thought she was on a roll of being approachable, and thought better of it. She headed out of the kitchen and bumped into Charlie, who had been leant against the wall.
"Lurking in the hallway, Wheezy?" She smirked. He rolled his hazel eyes at her, but a smirk of his own was working across his face.
"You were being rather pleasant, Miss Prissy," he chuckled, "reading those etiquette books really did you well."
"Oh, it was etiquette classes," she said with a straight face, "at a finishing school." He stared at her for a moment before she broke out into laughter. He laughed along with her.
"Wow, you're actually funny," he wiped at his eyes.
"Don't tell the others," she muttered, shoving her hands into her pockets. "They might try to talk to me."
"Harry was talking to you."
"As a good leader should, though he certainly doesn't like me," she leaned against the opposite wall from him.
"You don't really give anyone the chance to like you," he offered.
"Yet here you are, lurking around in the hallway to exchange pleasantries with me," she gave a feline grin. "Besides, I was very amenable to Potter in there, in fact, some might even go so far as to describe me as friendly."
He rolled his eyes again. "Go find some new clothes, Prissy, you're gonna be late for your meeting on how to save the world."
"Can't save it when it's already gone to hell," she called over her shoulder as she began to climb the staircase.
Lovegood tried to get her to wear a yellow sundress and white cardigan, but she declined. Lovegood herself was wearing a pink jumper, red cords, and one bright yellow and one green sock, slippers on her feet. Granger was nowhere to be seen, but the box was still sitting on her bed, so Pansy helped herself. Lovegood informed her that it was a mixture of Fleur's old clothes and her little sister's.
Pansy found a pair of black pants that fit tight to her legs, though they were slightly too long and there was a hole in one of the knee's, she also found a slim black jumper that she slipped on as well. She allowed Lovegood to hand her some short black boots with silver buckles on the ankles and pair of grey wool socks. Fully dressed, she looked at herself into the slightly cracked mirror hanging on the back of the door. She could see her figure, still devastatingly tiny, but at least it wasn't so stark.
Her hair had grown longer in the months at the manor, brushing slightly below her shoulders, and her bangs were too long to wear down. She found a black ribbon at the bottom of the box and made a makeshift headband, pulling them back out of her face.
"A little dark for me, I like more color, but you do look quite nice not hidden in all that fabric," Lovegood gave her a genuine smile.
"Thanks," Pansy mumbled, red and embarrassed.
She thought it was time to go to the boy's room, so she gave Lovegood a nod and went down the hallway to the room. Giving a knock, she entered. Potter was sitting on the windowsill, anxiously jiggling his leg. Granger was sitting on a small stool in the corner, staring at the floor. She was dressed in some sort of gray jumper with a zipper down the front, muggle jeans, and trainers. Her frizzy brown hair was pulled back in a neat plait.
Draco was wearing muggle jeans as well! Pansy blinked at him in shock at first, never having seen him in anything muggle, but she had to admit it wasn't bad. He wore a long sleeve black long john shirt and his black shoes from before.
"Right," Potter said as she joined Draco on his bed. He gave her knee a quick squeeze. "We need to start coming up with a plan, we don't have much time to sit around and wait, not knowing if Bellatrix will go and move it somewhere else."
"So we have to find a way in, right?" Draco asked. "We can't just simply walk in and ask for the keys to her vault."
"Of course we can't!" Granger said sharply. She must have realized her tone, because she softened and tried again: "but I have this," she reached into the small beaded bag she had on her lap and pulled out a little test tube.
Pansy leaned forward, narrowing her eyes as she tried to make out what was inside. "What is that? A hair?"
"Bellatrix Lestrange's hair," Granger answered, looking pleased with herself. I found it caught on the chain of my necklace, and since I don't have black hair, I know it's hers."
"What are the odds," Draco grinned. "So we brew a polyjuice potion."
"Yes, and we'll have to be quick about it," Granger said.
"I think I know a few tricks to speed up the process," Draco offered. Pansy wanted to reach out and stroke his hair for how hard he was trying to get Granger to warm up to him. Potter was friendly enough with him, though slightly distrustful, but Granger really hadn't improved much.
"That…that would be lovely, thank you, Draco," Granger said quietly, looking uncomfortable. Pansy smirked, Draco was the top of their class in potions, even better than Granger, and she knew it had always irked the Gryffindor girl.
"So what? We try and map out what we know of Gringotts, what we know of pureblood vaults, and we just take a stab at it?" Pansy asked, frowning.
"We have Griphook here, the goblin we pulled from the manor," Potter said, "I thought maybe we could get him to help us, too."
"He'll know his way around the wards," Pansy nodded.
"Bill would, too," Granger offered timidly, looking at Potter. "Harry, I know we agreed to keep as many people as we could out of this, but Bill is a curse breaker for Gringotts, he would know a lot of useful information."
Pansy perked up at hearing Bill was a curse breaker. She got a delicious thrill from researching the roots of spells, finding ways around it, and had managed to create a few charms herself. She loved the complexity that came with all spells and hexes, but she also loved how ironically simple some of them could be.
"P, you should work with Griphook and Bill," Draco turned to her. Potter and Granger stared at her as well, one thoughtfully and the other with irritation.
"Why would she help them?" Granger snipped.
"I met all the requirements on my O.W.L.S. for it," Pansy snarled, "and also I happen to be quite well-versed in how to get around hexes. Not to mention, I have a handful of successful charms I created on my own."
Granger was silent, mouth slightly open as Pansy lost her temper.
"Think what you want about my character, Granger, but I'll assure you I'm no sniveling idiot, and I take pride in my skills."
She stood up, pacing on the oval carpet at the foot of the beds.
"Don't think I haven't heard you two, or the others for that matter, questioning my loyalty. I'll tell you once and only once. I am loyal to Draco; I owe him many times over, so I go where he goes. I also owe you both my life, since you let us come with you, and if not we would be dead back at the manor. So, like it or not, I owe you a favor, and I'll pay it with my loyalty and assistance in any way that I can manage."
"Very well then, you can assist with Griphook," Granger finally said grudgingly, nodding her head in defeat.
Potter let out a low whistle.
"That's the most I've ever heard you talk before, Pansy," He gave a sheepish grin and Draco barked out a laugh. Pansy rolled her eyes and sat back down on the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
AN: Some sloooowwwww character development for all of our friends. Pansy is still a brat, but she's at least not pouting anymore.
I don't mean to make Hermione such a, well such a witch, but I think she would have a hard time letting bygones be bygones. Ugh, I love a good cat-fight, so I'll be milking it a little while longer.
I saw on tumblr that someone referred to Draco, Pansy, and Blaise as The Bronze Trio. I LOVE THAT! What should we call our gruesome foursome?
