character of study: pansy parkinson
AN: Draco is NOT a death eater in this story. i wanted to see what it would be like to write about. considering i wrote this when i was half dead and had just returned from a trip, spare me.
.i.
Pansy Arabella Parkinson.
Moderately pretty, a two-year graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Currently watching her love marry another woman.
It hurt. So much.
Idly, she wondered how it had all fallen to this. She grew up as the typical perfect pureblood princess, living in a perfect manor. Pansy spent her days playing with the porcelain dolls her father had brought from Asia and being served upon by house-elves. She grew up in the company of Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, and Millicent Bulstrode.
She was sure she loved Draco from the beginning she met him, from his self-righteous attitude all the way to his platinum blond head. Her mother had been thrilled over their acquaintance, the Malfoy family held a high place within society's standards. Camilla Violetta Parkinson had wished for her daughter to find her place beside the Malfoy scion. It would raise her family's reputation drastically, and that was all her mother cared about.
Her reputation. Just as how most pureblood families didn't really care whether their children were happy or not, they only wished for society to idolize and admire them.
Pansy played the perfect role of the perfect minion to Draco, convincing the Sorting Hat to place her within Slytherin when it had originally planned on placing her within Ravenclaw. She followed him into Slytherin, she followed him when he taunted the Golden Trio, she was always there.
Always. Even it seemed as though he didn't even realize she was there at times, she stayed because she loved him. It was utterly stupid. Pansy had known from the very beginning he didn't return her feelings but she convinced herself he would one day see her for that was all that mattered.
She listened to him rant angrily about "Pot-head, the Weasel, and the mudblood." She listened to him triumphantly announce the mudblood had been put into the hospital wing by the basilisk, she listened when he exclaimed over how Granger had punched him in the nose, hard.
Pansy had observed the girl before. She had bushy hair, frizzy strands that seemed to have a life of their own. Whenever a professor asked a question, she would immediately act as though electrocuted, waving her arm in the air as though she would die if the professor failed to call upon her. She had smooth, pale skin. Her lips contained humongous teeth—"beaver teeth," as Draco called it.
Everything Granger was, Pansy wasn't.
Though it bothered her, she reminded herself she didn't want beaver teeth and frizzy hair.
Pansy's dislike for Granger only grew year after year, the girl was much too clever, and seemed to effortlessly capture Draco's attention when she had to fight for it.
However, it was only during their fourth year did her dislike morph into hatred. The night of the Yule Ball—Pansy had gotten Draco to take her, and had been excited about it for weeks—Pansy had shut herself in her dorm for hours. She arranged her ebony tresses into loose curls and shoved herself into the frilly pink robes her mother had picked out for her. She met Draco at the staircase and was thrilled to see him dashing as ever.
They entered the doors to the Great Hall, and as she scrambled for a topic to speak to him about, Granger appeared with her date. Pansy's voice had instantly died within her throat when she caught sight of the girl, she was stunning. Her atrocious bushy hair had been smoothed into loose ringlets of curls, and her willowy figure was shown through her dress, a periwinkle robe made of floaty, rich-looking material. Her smile was radiant, and Pansy swore she heard Draco mutter "not bad" under his breath.
Pansy instantly flushed with embarrassment. She had only wanted to look nice, putting in hours of meticulous effort to try and get noticed for once, to feel pretty, maybe even beautiful, and that was all she wanted.
But then Granger came and blasted it all apart with a couple of bottles of hair potion and her radiant smile. The rest of the night was ruined for both Draco and Pansy. When dancing with her, Draco's eyes kept flitting to Granger.
When the night ended, Pansy put on a brave smile and marched up to the girl's dormitory, before throwing herself onto her bed and sobbing.
During their fifth year, when Granger was captured by the Inquisitorial Squad, Pansy saw Draco pass Granger's wand back to her, before giving her a grim look. Granger looked shocked, before accepting it gratefully and giving him a small, tentative smile. He returned her a smile, a brief lift on the corner of his lips. Pansy glared hatefully at the girl.
Draco never gave her a smile before.
He only ever threw her wicked smirks, but never a true smile.
It stung.
Sixth year passed with a blur, Pansy had developed into a rather pretty girl, not as pretty as Granger or the Weaslette, but still pretty. Seventh year, Granger wasn't there. Pansy pretended to not see the way Draco's fist would clench when he received the daily mail, and relax when he saw there was no news concerning the Golden Trio. She pretended to not see the letters he received from Granger—the two had struck up a correspondence over the summer. She pretended it didn't hurt when he would brush her off callously.
Pansy was a fantastic actress. She was so good she sometimes almost managed to trick herself.
Almost.
The day of the battle began, and when it ended, Pansy ran for Draco, almost weeping with joy when she saw he was unmarred. Granger got there first.
She threw her arms around his neck, he cupped her face with his hands, and kissed her. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. Her heart seemed to sink into pits of despair, Pansy had broken down sobbing, but nobody had paid her any attention, each caught up in their own grief and euphoria.
She received an invitation to their wedding two years later, and here she was.
She smiled as the beautiful bride walked down the aisle on the arm of her best friend, she smiled as her love kissed his love, she smiled and clapped politely, and frowned disapprovingly when the catcalls and wolf-whistles sounded.
She was good at pretending. Too good. She would always love him, she knew, and she hated herself every single fucking day for it, she hated him for loving another, she hated Granger for catching his eye, she hated herself for falling in love in the first place.
The girl sitting next to her began to sob. "It's such a beautiful ceremony," she cried, as she wiped at her eyes.
Pansy smiled distantly. "It is," she answered, and smiled beatifically. "It is."