02. soulmates
For as long as she can remember, Pansy Parkinson has drawn on herself and always written words, any random words she likes, on her arms and legs. It hurts, of course, she's using a quill after all, but it's a distraction and it's nice.
It distracts from her father's harsh words and her mother's methods of displaying dissatisfaction and annoyance and anger.
And then, one day as she's staring at a great bruise on her thigh which her parents hadn't gotten the chance to heal yet, she sees a beautiful pattern beginning to draw itself - it's a galaxy.
And the galaxies keep coming. For every bruise is a galaxy that stays longer than the bruises themselves and always angers her parents whenever they see them. They think she's drawing them on herself. They tell her to "cut that shit out" and scourgify her until she's raw and the last marks are gone.
But she loves the galaxies nonetheless.
Slowly, as her parents become busier and busier, the bruises and wounds only show in places that her robes always cover. She begins to wonder where the galaxies come from.
So Pansy takes a quill, pulls up her sleeve and writes who are you?
The response is quick and she watches as it writes itself out.
You responded! I'm - -! We're -there's a pause here until- soulmates.
Soulmates?
soulmates? Pansy writes.
As the person -her soulmate- explains she can't help but listen.
Pansy never tells anyone about this, especially not her parents who no longer heal her or her friends, who are only her friends because their parents are friends and would undoubtedly make fun of her or use the information for some sort of blackmail, even at the young age of nine.
Pansy learns many things from her soulmate, who she's sure is a muggle. She learns mostly about space, which she takes quite the interest in. They tell her that people have been on the moon and all about space stations and satellites and rockets.
They can't tell each other their names for some reason, so Pansy tells her -because she knows she's a girl by now- to call her Peony because she quite likes the flower and her soulmate tells her to call her Matilda.
Matilda keeps Pansy updated on everything and Pansy does the same, though it's all highly edited to avoid revealing magic.
She considers running away many times. She knows Matilda is in Oxford. How big could the city be? And even if she doesn't find Matilda she'll be away, won't she?
But she doesn't leave.
She stays put and hates herself and immerses herself in the stars. She reads every book she can get her hands on and asks Matilda questions and draws and draws and draws.
When her parents find her drawing they get mad. Art is an unbefitting hobby for a Parkinson. Art is messy and imprecise and for the layman to partake in. They push her into Arithmancy and Transfiguration and potion making.
She tries to get them to let her learn Divination and Astronomy and ancient magic. But Divination is fake and Astronomy is useless and ancient magic is dead.
Pansy asks Matilda what she uses to write - she says felt tip pens and markers. Pansy tries to tell her where she lives because the muggle mail might get to her somehow, but that only comes out as smudged as their names. She wishes she had markers but all she has are fancy ink and fancier quills that hurt as she digs into her skin and sting and take twice as long to wash off.
Pansy wonders what Matilda's home life is like. Is it good? Part of her hopes it is - another part hopes it isn't. Does Matilda love her parents? Do her parents love her? Pansy is torn. She wants Matilda to have a nice life, but why does she deserve a better one than her?
She can't wait to start school, though she knows that won't bring about the freedom she desires. She knows her friend group too well - a bunch of spies trying to get the best of each other at all costs. They're a deceptive, manipulative group from birth and they all know it.
By the time her Hogwarts letter does arrive, Pansy has banished any thoughts that she might be able to get into a different house and be rid of her friends for the most part. She knows that she must go to Slytherin otherwise her parents will be mad and disappointed and ashamed.
So she enters the Great Hall knowing where she must go. She keeps herself stiff and mimics her friends attitudes and personalities as she always has. The only lapse of her character is when she sees the ceiling.
A perfect view of the night sky.
Stars everywhere.
It's beautiful.
And then she's called up to be Sorted and she starts up a chant of 'Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin' in her head. It must be Slytherin. It has to be.
And the Sorting Hat yells, "SLYTHERIN!" before it's even fully on her head.
She sits beside Draco, near the house ghost, the Bloody Baron. Draco is doing a poor job at concealing his discomfort at sitting so near him, Pansy doesn't see what all the fuss is about.
She only half listens to Dumbledore at best, as well as the conversations happening around her.
And then she feels a sharp, concentrated pain in her forehead, which she grits her teeth through and shows no sign of.
The pain leaves as suddenly as it happens and no one knows the difference.
People are staring. People seem to always be staring and Hermione really doesn't like it. She can hear whispers following her and feel people watching her. They queue outside classrooms and stand on tiptoe to get a look at her or double back to pass her in the corridors, always staring and whispering.
Otherwise, everything is pretty great - she loves the classes straight away, they're all incredibly interesting, even History of Magic, which everyone else seems endlessly bored by. The castle itself is just as wonderful as her first impression of it was. She has two favourite rooms in the building - the Great Hall and the library.
Don't get Hermione started on the library.
It's by far the best library she's ever been it. It's massive with far more books than she could ever hope to count about all sorts of topics. Every moment she can, she's in the library, reading and studying and scouring through the books for any new bits of information she can find. It's all quite fascinating and Hermione is dead set on learning as much as she possibly can.
The first class is Charms with tiny Professor Flitwick, who has to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of the lesson he takes the register and when he reaches Hermione's name he gives an excited squeak and topples out of sight.
Then there's Transfiguration, which starts with Professor McGonagall sternly telling them, "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
She changes her desk into a pig and back again and Hermione is dazzled and continues to be as she takes pages of complex notes that she can't wait to revisit.
History of Magic is rather dry, as anything would be from a dull, monotone ghost, but the information really is fascinating. Hermione doesn't understand how anyone could sleep through the class.
Defence Against the Dark Arts seems to be the class most people are excited for, but it ends up being a bit disappointing, even to Hermione. She hates to speak ill of her teachers, but Professor Quirrell doesn't seem fit for teaching. He seems practically terrified of every little thing, including his own lesson plan. There's also the distinct scent of garlic following him everywhere, which is quite unpleasant.
Hermione loves Astronomy, which meets at midnight on wednesdays. It's all about learning the names of different stars and the movements of the planets and it's simply fascinating.
Herbology... isn't Hermione's favourite class. She can't say she likes all the dirt and fungi, but the theory is interesting and Professor Sprout is nice.
Pansy can't say she likes any of her classes except Astronomy. Though, she does wish that that class talked about rockets and astronauts.
Unfortunately, she has very little time to talk with Matilda and she seems to be having similar problems. It makes Pansy sad that the only times she's able to talk to her is when she's huddled over homework. There's the History of Magic class, that's perfect for it because no one is paying attention to anything, but Matilda seems to be busy then.
in history - very boooored, she writes to Matilda and she doesn't respond until lunch.
Oh no! :( My History class is very interesting, I wish yours was too! Maybe it'll get better?
Pansy can't respond until she's hunched over her Transfiguration essay.
somehow i doubt it. the professor is SO dull. im glad your class is good! i really li
Daphne Greengrass asks her for help with her essay and Pansy forgets to finish her message until the morning.
? Matilda had written.
oops sorry, Pansy says, got distracted. i was going to say that i have an astronomy class that i really like. its probably the only enjoyable class.
She finishes off the message with a few little doodles of stars and planets to pass the time before breakfast.
The first class of the day is double Potions with the Gryffindors. Pansy arrives fairly early, but most of the Slytherins do as well. She sits beside Draco and gets her textbook, parchment, quill and ink out.
There's a handful of Gryffindors already there as well and the rest of the students slowly trickle in from breakfast until the bell rings and Snape, at the front of the room, stands and immediately begins taking the register.
He pauses when he gets to the name that stood out at the night of the Welcoming Feast and that's been whispered through the halls all week.
"Ah, yes," he says softly, "Hermione Granger. Out new - celebrity."
Draco, Crabbe and Goyle snicker, Pansy rolls her eyes and begins lazily drawing stars in the corner of her parchment.
Snape finishes calling names and says, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." His voice is low, barely more than a whisper, but everyone can hear him quite clearly. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death 0if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Silence follows the speech, most everyone is listening intently, Draco is leaning forward in his seat. Pansy, listening just as closely, idly spins her quill between her fingers.
"Granger!" Snape snaps. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"The Draught of Living Death," she answers promptly, "a sleeping potion so potent that it causes a death-like slumber."
Snape's lip curls and his eyes narrow. "If you can tell me that, can you tell me where one finds a bezoar?"
"The stomach of a goat, sir."
"And what, Granger, is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They're the same plant, sir. Also called aconite."
Snape is clearly seething as he turns on the rest of the class and says, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" Pansy sees him say something to Granger under the sound of the unzipping bags and rifling potions that has Granger scowling and dark-cheeked afterwards.
The rest of the class is spent brewing a simple cure for boils. It's mind numbingly easy, Pansy has been brewing potions since she could walk. She laughs along with Draco when Neville Longbottom nearly blows up his cauldron.
Snape seems to have two favourite targets - Hermione Granger and the surprisingly Slytherin Harry Potter. He doesn't hesitate to take points off of Granger or any other Gryffindor, and he snarls at Potter until he finds an excuse to give him detention and Snape looks unusually pleased.
"Snape really seems to hate Potter, doesn't he," Draco sneers. "Not that I blame him."
"Yeah, wonder what's up with that," Pansy replies, absentmindedly stirring her potion.
Draco shrugs. "His parents are like if the Weasleys had money, aren't they? That's probably why. The whole lot's insufferable."
"Hm."
Hermione spends quite a lot of time in the library. As such, she doesn't really make any friends. She supposes she's friends with Neville, but he doesn't go to the library very often and, as such, doesn't spend much time with Hermione outside of classes.
Other than him, it's just Hermione, her books and Peony whenever she can manage to write. She thinks she's able to write more often than Peony is, since she's usually sitting at a table by herself. Peony probably has friends she spends time with.
Hermione turns the page of her book and adds on another few sentences to her Potions essay.
Someone shifts a nearby chair and she looks up. It's one of the Slytherins, Potter, she thinks, he's looking awkward and shifting his weight from foot to foot.
"Er, is that Potions and Brews by Lucretia Letter?" he asks.
Hermione nods. "Yes, it is. Do you need it?"
"Kind of, yeah. There aren't any more copies of it available and I need it to finish that essay for Potions."
"Well, I'm almost done with it," Hermione says. "Go ahead and sit." She feels the usual stinging that accompanies Peony's words and her hand twitches, accidentally leaving a splotch of ink on her parchment. She frowns at it.
"Oh, I know a spell that pulls the ink from the paper," Potter says. "Just tap the spot and say deleo."
Hermione does as he says and the puddle of ink disappears immediately. "Thanks," she says. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."
"Harry Potter," the boy supplies as he pulls out the chair in front of him and sits down. "Er, sorry, but d'you really have a-" he taps his forehead.
Hermione moves her hair off of her face to reveal her lightning shaped scar and then lets it fall back into place.
Harry looks awkward as he nods and mumbles, "Sorry, probably shouldn't have asked that."
Hermione shrugs. "It's fine."
They end up finishing up for the night around the same time and, as they're putting their things away, Harry says, "Have you heard about that Gringotts break in?"
Hermione frowns and shakes her head. She thought Gringotts was supposed to be impenetrable?
"No, I haven't," she says.
"It's weird. Nothing was stolen and the vault had been emptied the same day."
"That is weird," Hermione agrees.
"Right?"
Hermione isn't entirely sure why he's talking to her about this, but it certainly is bizarre.
She finishes packing her things away and she and Harry part ways at the door.