AN: Thanks again for all the lovely comments and favs and follows!
I'm gonna answer a few questions real quick:
1.: So what's the fallout from Sirius dying? Does Harry still receive the Black family? No. There's no will and, besides, Narcissa and Draco have the better claim anyway. Harry is only part Black because of a great-grandmother. Further consequences of Sirius's death will come later.
2.: I hope you don't go with the usual trope and say you must consumate the bond even though you are under 15 cause underage sex solves everything for everyone emotionally. Please let them grow up a little. At least 16 making them a little more mature. Worry not! Before they will even share a peck on the lips some time has to pass. Plus, the bond won't force them to shag. When Dumbledore warned them not to ignore the bond, he meant that acting like it doesn't exist at all can have consequences, meaning, keeping Pansy and Harry isolated from each other, etc. That does not mean that they need to have naked body contact. It means that people manipulating the bond by forcibly keeping them apart will only cause damage to the bond and, thus, damage to the bonded.
Neither Pansy nor her parents spoke a word as they walked side by side throughout the castle. What else was there to say? She felt completely numb, wasn't even sure where they were heading until they reached the gates and left for the grounds.
Her mother rested a comforting hand on her shoulder while Pansy leaned into her side. She was still trying to comprehend what she had just been told. Was it even comprehensible? She, Pansy Parkinson, heiress of the Parkinson family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, thirteen years old, was…
She couldn't even say it. Just the thought alone made her want to throw up.
Her father suddenly sat down on the grass, a bit away from the castle and the lake, somewhere halfway between the dimwitted Care teacher's shack and the castle.
Pansy settled down next to him, followed by her mother, who took her hand in hers and gripped it tightly while worrying her lips between her teeth.
Her mother then looked at her father. "What are we going to do, Penrose? Our baby – goodness, she is only thirteen!" She sounded as desperate as Pansy felt. "And the Sacred Twenty-Eight and – and not to mention the scandal when this will get out!"
Pansy felt like crying. "I am so sorry," she sobbed, sniffling delicately through stray tears running down her cheeks.
For generations, her family had successfully remained pureblooded with only minimal inbreeding through rare marriages between first and second cousins, but she would be the one to break this proud tradition. She felt incredibly guilty.
"Oh, my sweetness, no." Her mother smiled gently at her and cradled her head into her chest, stroking her hair. "I have to worry, as does your father because it will be difficult and trying for us and our family. However, never think that there is anything in this world we value more than you and your safety."
"Your mother is right," her father added. "While I would have wished to find you an honourable, pureblooded husband – and much later than this as well – it is what it is and we have to make the best of this rather distasteful situation."
"I don't want this!" Pansy whispered harshly. "I don't want – I don't – with Potter!"
"And we do not wish for a half-blood in our family either, Pansy, but the situation is what it is," her father said, his voice hardening. "The Potter name still holds weight and, with a bit of work, can be reputable once more. The damage done because of James and his marriage with that muggle-born is not entirely unsalvageable. We can work with this."
Pansy half sobbed and shook her head, deflating in her mother's embrace. "I don't want to," she whispered again.
The thought alone was so queer and alien, it was impossible to wrap her head around it. She and Potter – Potter and she – a shudder went through her body and bile was rising in her throat.
"Neither of us has a choice in that matter, my sweetness," her mother said softly, continuing to gently comb her fingers through her hair. "I would have wished for you and Draco to maybe fall in love –"
"He left me to die!" Pansy snarled, anger briefly overcoming her despair. "He will have to grovel a lot more before I will even think of forgiving him."
Nodding stiffly, a dark, fleeting look passing over her face, her mother continued. "Be that as it may, I would have liked for you two to maybe marry one day. Alas…" She sighed.
"Is there really nothing we can do, father?" Pansy pleaded, retracting herself from her mother to fully face her father. "There has – there has to be something!"
"If there was, I doubt the headmaster would tie his pet down to assumed supporters of the Dark Lord's cause, Pansy," her father spoke quietly, but bluntly.
That thought – that knowledge – still scared her a little and she glanced around in the hopes that no one had listened. Her father had no Dark Mark, but her overhearing conversations with Lucius Malfoy had led her to ask questions and he had answered them with little fanfare and even fewer half-truths.
"And what are we going to do about that?" her mother whispered harshly. "If – if he –"
"Calm, Peony. He is dead and a few rowdy fanatics are nothing to worry about," her father reassured. "What we have to focus on right now is to prepare for the inevitable, which means, for the public to find out about this eventually."
Pansy hid her face in her hands. "I'm mortified just thinking about it!"
"Hush," her mother tutted, pulling her hands away. "For now, just try and get used to the idea while your father and I will handle everything else."
Pansy just let out a pitying whine and allowed her mother to embrace her again, to offer the comfort she so desperately craved. "He's a half-blood! He doesn't care about our society! You should see the muggle rags he's sometimes wearing and have you seen how he was slumping in his chair today?! How am I supposed to show myself with him?!"
A nightmare.
"Good morning, Mr and Mrs Parkinson! Such a pleasant surprise!" She heard Draco greet her parents cheerfully.
At least shoving her anger and frustration right down Draco's throat could offer her some reprieve. The fact that he was a deserving recipient of her ire was an added bonus as well.
After her parents had left, Pansy spent the day outside with Daphne and Millicent by the lake, joined by the boys. The half-blood Tracey Davis was likely off somewhere to chum it up with some Puffs or Claws.
The good thing was that she hadn't heard anything else from Potter for the rest of the day, making her almost forget that there even was a connection. All she had heard was some sort of faint buzz in the far recesses of her mind. Had he found a way to close his mind off from hers? She certainly hoped so. A girl could dream.
After dinner, they were spending some time in the common room, watching the lake's inhabitants swim past the windows. The Slytherin common room's lighting always had an otherworldly quality to it, the lake's dark hues combined with the flickering of the braziers and torches illuminating it. She would have preferred something brighter, but it was what it was.
"Do you know who's hosting the summer ball this year?" Daphne asked after taking a sip from her pumpkin juice. "The Macmillans were a bore last year."
"Those balls are always a bore," Pansy complained. "At least my cousin Camellia will take me to a Bent-Winged Snitches concert in August. They're coming to Cardiff!" she swooned. "It's on the day of the Quidditch World Cup finale – August 18th. Spares me having to go there with my parents."
"Oh, yes, I've heard about that." Daphne grinned before grimacing. "Unfortunately, I have to go."
"Ugh, me too," Millicent complained. "I begged my parents, but my dad would have none of it. You are lucky, Pansy."
You have no bloody idea what you are talking about and what I am going through, you fat pig. Pansy smiled kindly at Millicent. "I am, aren't I? My parents do like to indulge my whims quite a bit." She shrugged. "But it does not exempt me from already having to learn what it means to be the future heiress of my family."
"I know, right?" Daphne huffed. "Half my summer will be lessons about finances and our ancestors and the other half will be homework and that summer ball – which, granted, might actually be entertaining this year, who knows – and, not to forget, that dreadful Quidditch game."
"It's not just a game, Daphne," Draco threw in, leaning forward a bit to look past the massive form of Gregory. "It is the finale of the world cup!"
"Yes, of course, how could I forget," Daphne drawled with a bored tone while rolling her eyes and waving him off with a hand. "So important."
"It is!" Blaise insisted. "The best of the best! I'd bet my allowance that Ireland reaches the finals."
Draco nodded. "That's a given. That's also why nobody sane would bet against it."
Pansy rolled her eyes and tuned them out, resuming her conversation with Daphne and Millicent instead.
Night had arrived and she was tossing and turning in her bed.
What a day it had been.
When she woke up that morning, all she had to worry about was a stupid and annoying, but otherwise harmless, bond. Now...now…
"We are married."
A hand flew to her mouth, muffling her surprised gasp. She glanced around before realizing that she couldn't see through curtains, but Millicent's snoring – loud enough to easily cut through the silence – indicated that the others might still be sleeping.
She glared at nothing in the dark dormitory. "How did you manage to stay silent for so long?"
"I consciously concentrated on not thinking, if that makes sense. It's difficult, though, especially if you do it the whole day. There has to be a better way."
Pansy exhaled, disappointed. She had kind of hoped that Dumbledore would have shown him a spell or a trick or something.
"No, he just told me that I should at least try to be civil with you because being miserable and at each other's throats all the time doesn't make this any better." He paused. "He's not wrong, you know? I've been having headaches the whole bloody time since this...thing happened."
Being civil with Potter? What an outlandish idea and yet, here she was. She had no choice, after all. Could she even do it?
"You could at least try. I'm making an effort here."
"I wouldn't even know where to begin."
"Just...like this? We're not trying to kill each other in our heads, right? That counts for something, right?"
Such an unbelievable situation. Pansy shook her head and sighed. "Sure."
And she was going to spend the rest of her life with him. Only now, during the calm of the night, did it occur to her just what she was going to miss because of this. No Hogsmeade dates, no courtship, no debutante ball. All gone in an instant. She wanted to cry.
"...I'm sorry."
She huffed and glared. "You being sorry does not make this better, Potter. My life is gone."
"I am sorry this happened. Whatever this is, it's not my fault because trust me, I want no more part of this than you do. But I'm sorry your life's all topsy-turvy now."
He truly was making an effort. Not even in their day-to-day lives in school had they exchanged such a civil conversation. Thinking of her parents and their talk, she should at least try. After all, what else was there to do?
"Speaking of, I've heard everything of that talk."
Her eyes widened. "That was private."
"Like your father being a follower of Voldemort?"
"He wasn't a follower, you idiot! He was a supporter of the pureblood cause."
"And that's better how?" Potter growled in her head.
"He didn't walk around torturing and killing muggles for sport," she argued. "He said he hadn't used his wand at all during the war."
Potter just scoffed, which made her angry but that he knew also scared her.
"If he supported them, he's as terrible a person as everyone else involved, but you can't go to jail for supporting something, can you?" He chuckled without humour. She could almost picture him shaking his head. "No matter how bad the thing you're supporting is."
She sighed in hesitant relief but was still angry at his words. "My father is a good man. He loves my mother and he loves me, even now. I know other family heads who would have gladly cast me out or even killed me for this. Not my father."
"I'll give him that." He then sighed. "What was that about my family name and using it?"
"Considering that...our...you know, considering that casts my family out of the Sacred Twenty-Eight –"
"What's that? It was mentioned a few times."
"It's the Pureblood Directory. Seriously, Potter, do you know nothing of our world? Anyway," she continued before he could retort, "considering our thing, my family will be removed from it once this gets out. That means, we lose a lot of influence and prestige. So, we will have to make use of your family name. Under other circumstances, admittedly, a Parkinson-Potter union might have been pretty big, I think. I don't know all the intricacies of these topics yet."
"What kind of influence could my family name even bring? If being pureblood is so bloody important, why not just keep your grubby fingers away from my family?" Potter all but hissed at her.
"Because, in our society, it is important. Again, I don't know the details yet, I don't know all the whys and hows and whos. I only began learning the basics last summer."
He huffed. "I don't like it. I won't allow it."
"Well, you have little, bloody choice!" She glared daggers into the darkness. "I may not know much, but I know this: I will not allow my family to lose its power over this freakish instance of magic!"
"And I will not allow my family's name to be dragged through the mud for your family's pureblood agenda!"
"I don't want to fight right now, I am already getting a headache." She massaged her temples with closed eyes and furrowed brows.
Potter exhaled heavily through the bond but didn't respond. For a moment she wondered if he would again try to shut her out from his head, but she could make out faint thoughts. He thought of himself losing the agency of his life and his choices being taken from him and of choices being made for him. She hummed. At least he understood where she was coming from then – if one were to exclude their mutual dislike of each other from the equation.
Then, she had to stop herself from guffawing out loud. His embarrassed muttering didn't make it any better as she muffled her snickers into her pillow. He, apparently, had been unable to silence that brief flicker of longing and wondering.
"Shut up, Parkinson."
"Cho Chang? Really?"
"Excuse me for wondering, okay? Because of basically being bloody married to you of all people, I won't even know what it is like to be with a girl I actually like."
"Cho Chang? You actually fancied that cow?" Pansy scoffed and kept laughing before smirking mentally. "Count your lucky stars, Potter. With me, you got an improvement."
"...right."
Cho Chang. She kept snickering to herself and was glad for Millicent's loud snores for the first time. That little revelation had most certainly done wonders for her mood. Potter's annoyed grumblings were only helping and spurring her on to come up with ways to tease him with that knowledge. At least she now had something to do until she was tired enough to fall asleep.
The castle was far behind them now, a couple of days later, and the Hogwarts Express was taking them back to London. She was glad to go back home. The past week had been nothing short of a horror trip and the ball of dread was forming steadily in her stomach. Every day she would start to wonder if today would be the day that the world would find out. What would she do then? How would she look any of her friends in the eye when that happened? How would they take it?
Potter wasn't helping either. Most of the time his thoughts were filled with spells and wand movements, which was just utterly baffling. Apparently, he wanted to get better and stronger for some wormtail or something, whatever that meant.
This mad boy was to be her husband with whom she was supposed to show herself to the public? Merlin, Morgana and Nimue, please spare me that embarrassment and make this bloody thing go away!
What annoyed her more than that, however – and everything related to soulbonds and Potter was a major annoyance – was the fact that Draco had yet to apologize. So, she kept giving him the cold shoulder and had not had a proper conversation with him since that terrifying night.
"I didn't think Malfoy could say anything coherent beyond 'my father will hear of this'," Potter commented, though he sounded distracted.
They didn't talk much these days, their one late night chat remaining an exception so far. She didn't mind, however. The less they talked, the more she could pretend that this whole thing was nothing but a very elaborate prank or something of that sort.
"That'd be a bit much, even for the twins. The Weasley twins I mean. Fre-"
"I know! Are you bored or something, Potter?"
"...kind of."
"...Pansy?"
"Huh?" She blushed when she noticed the multiple sets of eyes directed at her. "W-what?"
"I asked if I could talk to you in private," Draco elaborated with a raised brow. "Twice."
"Oh. If you must." Pansy tilted her head a bit higher and put on her haughtiest expression as she waited for their group to leave the compartment. She watched them with suspicion and had to wonder if this had been pre-agreed upon between them and Draco. Once the door to their compartment had been closed, she returned her attention to him and raised a brow. "What is it?"
He cleared his throat and tucked at his collar, obviously nervous. After clearing his throat a second time, he opened his mouth, closed it again, then opened it again.
"My patience is wearing thin, Draco."
"I am sorry," he finally blurted out.
She suppressed the satisfied smile threatening to make its way on her lips. "Oh? And what, pray tell, are you apologizing for?"
Draco winced, clearly having hoped that saying "sorry" once would be enough. "F-for...for leaving you behind. For running away. For –"
Pansy held up her hand, stopping him from listing all of his mistakes. "I don't want a list, Draco. I want to hear you say one thing – just one single thing – and then you'll be on the right track to gaining back my trust and friendship." He gave her a surprised look, making her scoff. "What? You think apologising once would cut it?" She leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "In case you kind of forgot: there was a werewolf on the loose and a Dementor was sucking out my soul while you were nice and safe back in the castle. A simple sorry will never be enough to earn back my trust, Draco. Not ever."
Pansy leaned back on her seat, her arms crossed over her chest and one leg over the other.
Rubbing his face with his hands and groaning in frustration, Draco muttered something unintelligible before looking at her, almost pleading at her not to make him do this, but she remained unfazed.
"Swallow your pride and get this over with, Draco."
"Merlin's beard, Pansy…" Inhaling and exhaling forcefully he looked at her before his shoulders slumped in resignation. "I am sorry for being a coward."
She grinned and clapped once happily. "There you go. Wasn't so hard in the end, was it?"
"You are terrible, Pansy."
"You are bloody scary, Parkinson."
She smirked in satisfaction. "And you better remember it."
AN: Worry not! Their truce is only temporary.