Pansy grew under the roof of House Parkinson.
She had to.
The House was confining, her days following the same short circuit (bedroom, bathroom, dining room, solar) and repeat.
Mother was a harsh taskmaster and worked her from breakfast until dinner. Her lessons range from Latin noun declensions to the meaning of different Titles. Every day was a new lesson and Mother's standards kept rising.
Pansy had always liked to ask questions. But having lessons with Mother was quickly teaching her when to keep her mouth shut and how to time questions, just right, to get answers instead of cold dismissal.
Mother's moods were as mercurial as her lesson plans. In one moment, she was scathing in her criticism, and then, in a breath, coldly polite. She could be wan and quiet and then abruptly incandescent with rage.
Pansy spent her toddler years carefully watching Mother's moods, noting triggers and signs and tried altering her own behaviours to mitigate the inevitable fallout. When she did it well - she could make it back to her room without incident and meet Mother the next morning, all tension forgotten. When she didn't - Mother's eyes would grow predatory and words became knives in her slender hands. Mother never raised a hand against her, or wand. But she knew how to dole out punishments just the same.
(It's Selwyn, THEN Shacklebolt, she murmured to herself, legs numb from kneeling - Mother still hadn't said she could get up.)
Pansy could see what Mother was doing. Dressing her up with nice manners and a sweet singing voice, buffing out her lisp and her tendency to tear up when her emotions got the best of her - so that when the time came, Pansy could be Perfectly Betrothed. The perfect Lady of some ancient and noble House.
["Your Father, Lord Tarrent Parkinson, is the current Head of House Parkinson." She said without inflection. "There are no siblings, only one Cousin who lives on the Continent and will not return." Pansy notes that down mentally, just in case.
Mother continued, "House Parkinson can trace its lineage back to the times of the Founders of Hogwarts, though records have been lost confirming this, the Family Magics are old enough to prove it, should anyone be foolhardy enough to ask. Though we can trace our pure-blood back generations, it was Perseus Parkinson, third Minister of Magic that brought the Family to prominence. He led the Magical Conclaves for six years and brought about lasting change to separate us from the Muggles" she spat, "that would hurt us."
"Since then, House Parkinson has been deeply involved in the Ministry -]
The lessons Mother imparted, hidden ones where fangs were tucked behind congenial smiles and weaknesses behind a temper, were difficult to learn. Trials by fire, that more often than not left Pansy burned.
And to think, she had thought herself so clever when she befriended Gilli under the premise of a gummy smile for a chance to figure out their magic.
Pansy still had a ways to go if she was to outwit events to come.
So, she let Mother mold her as she pleased, and tucked the parts of herself she wanted to keep - her curiosity, her goals, her ideals - deep inside herself. Safe.
She was seeing less and less of Gilli , though they always came when she called. Gone were the days when the House-Elf would pop in to check on her every few hours or guide her down corridors and between rooms. There had been another House-Elf but it had been old and died sometime after she turned three, so Gilli was busy with other duties now.
Pansy was older too, nearly five-years old. And she was plenty old enough to tuck herself in, arranging her thick quilt around but she could still indulge anyways: "Gilli! I'm ready for bed! "
They always answered her call at bedtime though, tucking her in like they'd always done. Logically, she justified it as necessary affection. She was still hopeful to grow up well-adjusted instead of a ball of trauma and touch-starved like she imagined Story- Pansy was, given the circumstances.
She waited, fingers curled around the ball in her grasp as the light flickered lilac, then green, then moonlight-silver. Pansy had discovered last week that she could change the colour with a thought, not just words. It made sense, given her loose grasp of speaking when it was first gifted to her.
The first inkling she had that something might be different was the lack of the telltale pop!
She looked up from her hands, surveying the empty room.
"Gilli -" She tried again, beginning to push her covers back. "I'm ready for bed now."
Her eyes flickered around the room, waiting. And waiting.
Minutes went by.
Still no Gilli.
A chill ran down her spine - something was wrong. Gilli had never failed to answer her call. She wasn't sure if it was something about their Magic that meant they couldn't ignore it or just Gilli's unfaltering subservience.
Whatever it was - Gilli still had not appeared.
She could - she could go to sleep by herself. And wait and see if Gilli answered in the morning. Maybe she called them while they were busy, maybe they were with Mother or Father and couldn't get away. Maybe something was stopping Gilli from coming.
Pansy was out of bed and twisting the doorknob before she could question it. Ignoring thoughts about setting any Wards off, she slipped into the hallway.
The door shut behind her with a quiet click, the world around her plunging into darkness.
She shoved her left hand into the pocket of her nightdress and pulled out the ball. With a thought, it cast a dim glow - just enough to see by.
Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other and moved down the hallway. The floorboards were cold underfoot.
She checked the bathroom, her heart thudding in her chest. Empty.
Pansy continued down the hall.
At the other end, the smell of ash and tobacco lingered in the air. There was a stub in the heavy black ashtray, smeared into the dirty rose engraved in it. She hovered her hand above it.
Still faintly warm.
It must have been Father that smoked. She'd never seen Mother do anything of the sort, or even so much as look at the ashtrays in the rest of the house.
So - Father had to be nearby.
Pansy was not interested in meeting this mysterious figure. The man had never taken an interest in her, so why should she in return?
The last door in the hallway seemed innocuous enough, but for the small sliver of light, visible from underneath it. Father's Study.
She approached slowly, mindful of her steps. If Gilli was in there, she'd need to figure out a plan to get them out. She could play the spoiled brat, demanding them to come to her at once, removing them from Father's side. But, she already bore the crime of being a girl, if she proved arrogant and demanding too - how would the man react? She could try to address Father instead, from an angle. Maybe, if she –
A sound from behind had her whirling around.
What was that?
Pansy stared into the darkness of the long hallway, the ball of light dimming slightly, hardly daring to breathe. The bathroom door was still shut, as was her room. The ashtray hadn't moved from the table.
A ghost?
Movement in her peripheral caught her eye - there!
The painting.
She moved away from the door and closer to its place on the wall. She'd passed it plenty of times in the past, and never paid it any attention. It usually showed a deep forest, like the one outside the grounds of this house. In the painting, tall pine trees loomed into the darkening sky and out of the frame. Bits of twig and moss were highlighted gently by the glow of moonlight, it's source out of sight. The painter must have been talented, it looked like she was deep in the woods, peering through the pine branches and deeper into through the trees.
Usually, the forest was dark and still, but for the occasional breeze that blew through and shook the boughs.
Tonight, it had a visitor.
The creature was magnificent. It's coat was pure brilliant white, giving off a glow that illuminated its surroundings softly, casting gentle shadows from the trees and catching on twigs in the undergrowth. It took long graceful strides forward, hooves sure as it moved over roots and leaves. A long, spiralled horn sat on its head between a pair of intelligent, knowing dark eyes.
"A unicorn." She gasped. "You're beautiful."
It let out a warm huff, condensation curling out of its nostrils.
"Why don't you come out during the day?" She asked after a moment, reaching a hand out without thinking. Her fingertips hovered just above the painting for a moment, hesitating, before the creature lowered its head. The canvas was cool to the touch, and she could feel the way the paint was laid onto it, the strokes shifting as the scenery moved, shifted and breathed. It let her trail a finger slowly from below its glowing horn and she stopped just before its nose.
"I guess it's rather boring," Pansy allowed and let her hand drop. There were only the four of them living here after all, and she doubted that Mother or Father would attract the painting's interest. "Do you know Gilli?" She asked, remembering her purpose for tonight. If there was anyone that could do with seeing a unicorn, it was Gilli.
Its head inclined slowly.
"Do you know where they are?"
For a second, she felt foolish – but then the unicorn lifted its head and turned, pointing with their horn. She followed its movement off the frame and towards the stairs.
She spun back quickly, relief surging. "Thank you!" Pansy grinned and curtseyed as deep as she could. The unicorn turned and walked back between the trees without acknowledging her, until they were gone and the forest was silent once more.
Pansy took the stairs two at a time, holding the banister to balance her weight as she tried to keep as quiet as possible. She hardly needed to go far before she saw it. A shape hunched at the bottom of the stairs, trembling.
Their pillowcase was stained with something dark, no – No.
"Gilli!"
Their head snapped upwards abruptly, meeting her own with large, wild looking eyes.
"N-no, no, no-no-no-no!" They whispered, fingers coming up to squeeze at their ears. "Little Miss can't be being here!" Their head shook from side to side as she rushed down the last few steps.
"Gilli - " The breath felt sucked from her lungs, "what happened to you?"
Now that she was closer, she could make out more details. Some of Gilli's fingertips were bent at odd angles, turning a deep purple; there was a smudge or a bruise beneath one of their eyes seeming to darken by the second. The step they sat on was slick with something black and wet.
"L-little Miss must go back to bed." Gilli ignored her insistently, pushing away weakly at her hands.
"No, Gilli. You're - you're hurt," Her voice hitched. "You need - you need help! I have to - "
She moved past their raised arms and tugged on their toga, at the large dark stain on it. It was wet and the fabric made a sickening slucck sound as it pulled away from the skin. Gilli gasped, frame tensing, and she stopped in horror, as her vision swam and blurred.
"Oh no, oh Gilli!"
Underneath their clothes, Gilli's back was a mess of long crisscrossing lines; deep and weeping with sluggishly flowing blood. The House-Elf made a move to stand, swaying dangerously. Quickly, her hands found their shoulders, keeping them upright. She wasn't sure where else she could touch without causing him anymore pain.
The skin was far too hot under her fingers, slick with sweat.
Gilli was in a bad way. The dread gathered heavily in her stomach. Pansy needed to get them somewhere safe, out of sight. The bedroom would be more comfortable, the bathroom was closer but less private, but she needed to get Gilli out of the stairwell quickly, before someone came to investigate the sounds.
"Gilli was a bad Elf, a bad Elf," They said mournfully, "Gilli was a bad Elf - must be punished!"
She intercepted their arms reaching for the banister. "No, Gilli isn't a bad Elf." She could feel tears spilling from her eyes, hot on her cheeks. "Gilli is a good Elf! A good Elf!" Gilli, who was her only source of comfort in this horrible, horrible second life. One blip of sweetness where everything else left the bitter taste of fear and ice on her tongue. Forget the logic of growing up well-adjusted - she would not, she could not do this without Gilli to keep her sane, keep her grounded.
"Gilli's my friend!" She sobbed as their hands settled around her in a loose hug. "You're my friend, you're my friend." She repeated as they both collapsed to the ground, her chest heaving. "You're my friend, please don't hurt yourself anymore, please."
Something burst from under her skin.
There was a bright, blinding flash; the breath in her lungs seemed to whoosh out of her.
And then as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone - leaving Pansy to blink away the dark spots in her periphery.
Gilli slumped suddenly, their weight nearly sending both of them to the floor. "Gilli!" She hissed as her vision cleared. The House-Elf's eyes were shut, their face was oddly serene and for one horrifying moment, Pansy thought Gilli was dead.
But then she registered the fluttering of their pulse beneath her fingertips, the soft breath brushing against her neck. The relief and joy it brought almost sent her to the ground again but she checked them over instead, cataloging their injuries.
Or tried to.
Except she couldn't seem to find any of them. All of Gilli's fingers looked fine. More startlingly, their thin back was clear, bare of any gashes or scars. The only sign something had been wrong was the bruise under their eye.
Regardless of the strange turn of events, she was much too grateful to care at the moment and she needed to get them both to safety before someone discovered them.
Pansy draped them over her back quickly, keeping their wrists in place with one hand and using the other to make sure she didn't jostle them too much. She took the stairs two at a time, faster now. The light had been too bright, too obvious - someone was going to be coming along to check soon.
She was almost running as she moved down the hallway. Her hair stuck to her left cheek, damp with sweat, but she ignored it in favour of retracting her hand from behind her back to turn the doorknob.
Sounds of movement downstairs caught her attention just as she let them both in, shutting the door as quietly and quickly as she could. Then, her legs were giving way and they crumpled to the floor in a heap.
She stared up at the alabaster ceiling, her breath coming out in short pants.
Her hip smarted with pain but she forced herself to check Gilli first.
The House-Elf looked peaceful. Like they were sleeping.
Pansy brushed a hand against their temple, checking their temperature but it didn't seem so hot anymore. Whatever had happened had fixed most of the damage.
Magic.
She didn't dwell on it any more as she laid Gilli in her bed, tucking the covers around their shoulders as best as she could. Her fingers were still trembling and it ended up being bunched unevenly, but she was so glad that somehow, things seemed to have turned out okay.
She fell asleep slumped over the bed, with her fingers curled in Gilli's.
The next morning Gilli scolded her as they braided her hair with nimble fingers, and she let herself close her eyes with contentment at the feeling. They seemed just as surprised as her when she described the bright flash of light and disappearance of their injuries.
"No, this not be Gilli's doing," They said with an odd tone, their mouth quirking upwards. "It's Little Miss - Little Miss be doing Accidental Magic!" Oh - Pansy's cheeks reddened - it was proud. The odd tone was pride. Gilli was proud of her.
"But how?" She said bewildered, as she slipped on her dress for the day. "How did I do that?"
Gilli looked thoughtful. "Wizard Magics - Gilli isn't sure." They hesitated, the tips of their ears going pink. "Little Miss - Little Miss called Gilli friend."
Pansy nodded, the smile came easy now. It was true - it had been said in the moment, but it was still true. "I meant it -" She grinned at the wide-eyed look her friend gave her. "You're my friend." She looked down at her hands, thinking of the tight feeling in her chest, that of the room feeling all of a sudden too close and airless. "I was scared. I was really scared."
A hand came forward to pat her knee, and she looked up to Gilli looking at her helplessly. "Gilli's never had a f-friend before."
"Neither have I." She scrubbed her eyes with her knuckles, before overlaying their hand with hers. "You should call me Pansy."
Gilli bit their lip, shaking their head, ears flapping." Gilli shouldn't. Gilli is House-Elf, Little Miss is one of Gilli's Masters -"
"But we're friends now," She giggled, interrupting. "You can call me Pansy, even if it's only when we're alone."
Gilli looked torn.
"Please?"
They sighed, wrinkling their nose a little as a blush spread its way across their cheeks. "Gilli can-" They said haltingly, "Gilli can try."
They stared at each other, hands warm and interlocked.
"P-pansy."
The squeak Gilli made when she tackled them with a hug was worth the cold stare Mother gave her when she arrived late to the breakfast table. Not even the madwoman could faze her today.
Like a bottle that had popped its cork, incidences of Accidental Magic were suddenly happening more frequently. When Mother scolded her for mixing up French and German, et and und, a large crack appeared in the blackboard between the two words, startling them both. She stained her dress at lunch one time and the muddy brown mark vanished in a blink before Mother could even open her mouth to reprimand her.
It only took a few incidents before she identified the pattern. Pansy could not will things to happen, could not do things on purpose. It didn't quite work like that. But - when her emotions were high and her feelings were strong enough, she could feel something beneath her skin. It pulled and stretched and overwhelmed before it burst out.
A supernova under her skin.
Magic.
The first time, with Gilli, had been because she was so frightened. The second because she was frustrated. The third, anxious.
Mother was pleased, if occasionally exasperated by the inconvenience, eyes constantly assessing. "A late bloomer, daughter-mine" she said as she looked at the shattered window.
"There's a gathering next week," There was a smile on her face, like Pansy had passed some sort of test. "It'll be hosted by Lady Malfoy at their home, a garden party of sorts. Heir Malfoy will be in attendance. Houses Goyle, Crabbe and Greengrass will likely be there as well with their respective Ladies and children. I shall introduce you as Daughter of House Parkinson."
On the day of the party, she was a bundle of nerves. Mother had picked out her dress the night before, delivering it via Gilli in the morning. It was not ostentatious, or too flamboyant, as it was not a formal event as such, but it was a well made sage-green satin dress with white lace short puff-sleeves and trim. It swished around her legs as she pulled up long white stockings and fastened the clasp on a pair of shiny green shoes, matching the dress. There were no pockets so she left her ball behind, tucked under her pillow.
Mother was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, on the ground floor. Pansy had never been on this level before and she passed several floors she hadn't known existed before she found Mother.
The woman was dressed in white robes, cerulean-blue flowers and buds and emerald leaves delicately stitched through the silk, more effortlessly elegant than Pansy had ever seen. She was far more healthy looking now, hale in a way she hadn't been when they'd first met. Viciously, Pansy sometimes wondered if the woman grew healthy on sapping Pansy's own joy.
The atrium was large and square and lined with portraits on its walls. There were a couple of snide looking women, each dressed in various fashionable hairdos of their respective eras. Some men too, in posh looking robes and neatly combed hair, looking disapproving. They watched her curiously as she followed Mother and she ignored their whispers. The woman led her to a large marble fireplace, the flames flickering as they approached.
"We shall take the Floo." Mother announced, and then extended a hand towards her. "You are too young to travel on your own, take my hand." Pansy tried to discreetly wipe her palms on her dress. Mother's hands were smooth and cold, and they held her small hands with a tight grip. "Keep your elbows in and your eyes shut."
Mother pulled them forward and used her free hand to grab a handful of something in a small china box on the mantle, before tossing it into the flames.
The fire roared green, flames doubling in size but with a lack of heat.
"Malfoy Manor!" Mother snapped. And they stepped into the fire.
It felt like being sucked into a vacuum cleaner, except the vacuum was spinning about a million miles an hour and thrice as loud - Pansy kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her elbows close to her body and butt clenched, even though that last bit was not in Mother's instructions - the feeling seemed to last forever - she could taste her breakfast faintly in the back of her mouth - and then
It was over.
She blinked as her feet stepped onto white marble, only just gaining her bearings in time to stop from bumping into Mother. Pansy glanced down at her trembling hands as Mother let her go.
Fingers, check. Elbows, check. Toes, check.
The dress was blessedly wrinkle-free and spotless. Mentally, she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Narcissa, thank you for the invitation," She jerked her head up at the sound of the warm-polite of Mother's voice. The large room they found themselves in was as opulent as she expected and she paid the gold patterns inlaid in the walls little attention, focusing on the woman approaching.
A slim, dainty looking woman hugged Mother with a smile on her face. She was dressed in pale blue robes that seemed to glitter in the sunlight streaming through the large floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Merle - a delight as always." Narcissa Malfoy pulled away, eyes trailing up and down Mother's dress. "This is gorgeous, a custom?"
"Oh, this?" Mother looked down at herself, almost modestly, "Well, I could hardly turn up on your doorstep in rags, could I?"
If Pansy dared, her eyes would have bugged out by now. Mother was acting like a whole different person. A socialite - it was obvious now, Mother was used to moving around in such circles. Perhaps she had grown up with Lady Malfoy, or perhaps these were all just acts of platitudes, holding on to sharper barbs for better moments.
Then, Narcissa Malfoy's blue eyes were on her; a fine, perfectly shaped brow arched in surprise, as if she'd only spotted Pansy just this moment.
"And who is this?"
Mother turned sideways so that both of them were in her sights. "Ah, Narcissa, this is my daughter, Pansy - "
Pansy dipped into a quick curtsey - not deep enough to be too deferential but deep enough to show respect for greeting a Lady of good standing - perfectly executed. "Lady Malfoy." She said, smiling prettily as she rose. Pansy had practiced this smile in the mirror enough that she knew it was. "Thank you for inviting us to your home."
Narcissa lifted a hand up to cover her mouth, her laugh like chimes in the breeze. "So polite - and to think you kept such a pretty girl hidden away for so long!" Blue eyes flicked over to Mother slyly.
"A bad constitution," Mother said, her smile just a little tight on her painted lips. "Our Healer only just announced that she has fully recovered."
"I see," Narcissa nodded, piercing blue eyes assessing her once more. "You poor dear," She said kindly, after a moment "I'm glad you've recovered enough to join us, Pansy."
"Thank you, Lady Malfoy." Pansy demurred softly.
Narcissa led them through a set of double doors, and then down a wide corridor, as the two women discussed the latest fashions this season over her head. Pansy followed behind them carefully, keeping a step or two back but close enough that no one could accuse her of dawdling or gawking.
Everything in Malfoy Mansion was so white. The floors were white, the walls were white. The gold scrolling and trim in the walls was almost too ostentatious but, paired with the black frames of the grand paintings of vistas, portraitures of long dead relatives and alabaster statues of different mythical creatures set into tall arches in the walls, the gold hardly seemed too much after all.
Eventually, Narcissa slowed before a beautiful set of double doors made of stained glass. Each little piece of glass mosaic glistened like crystal, coming together to form a magnificent white peacock in shades of black, grey and clear. The only colour was its eyes, a deep ruby red.
Narcissa pushed open both doors and walks in with Mother's arm laced through her own. Pansy followed after a moment.
They entered a conservatory, or perhaps a grand greenhouse. The whole room was made of crystal clear glass panes that cast shifting rainbows. In the centre of the room was a large circular table, around which several other women sat, chatter stilling as they turned to look over at the entering party.
"Ladies," Narcissa glided forward, taking a seat. Mother moved into the seat to the left of her, "Lady Parkinson has finally addressed us with her presence."
The group tittered, hands coming up to shield mouths, eyes crinkling in mirth - real or otherwise.
"Merle!" A portly dark haired woman in pink nodded, "You always did love an entrance."
Mother laughed softly, it was a surprisingly pleasant sound, "It was Pansy's first time using the Floo, we could hardly sit with you if we were covered in soot, could we?" She turned to look over her shoulder. "Daughter-mine, come here, let me introduce you."
Obediently, Pansy stepped forward, as all eyes in the room flocked to her, scrutinising her from head to toe. She was sure they'd miss nothing. The back of her neck prickled. "Mother."
"Pansy, dear," Mother's voice was sweet but her grip on Pansy's shoulder was firm. "This is Lady Goyle," the portly woman in pink; "Lady Crabbe," a thin mousy-haired woman in yellow; "and Lady Greengrass." A svelte woman with blue eyes and dark hair wearing lilac. Despite the smile on the last woman's face, there was a calculating look about her eyes that Pansy did not miss.
"Lady Goyle, Lady Crabbe, Lady Greengrass," Pansy parroted, dipping into the same curtsey and smiling her pretty smile.
"What a jewel," Lady Greengrass said, "She looks just like you did, Merle, such a beautiful child."
Pansy let herself blush, noting the slight stiffening of Mother's shoulders and the too sharp eyes of Lady Greengrass. There was history there - and likely nothing good.
"Nonsense," Mother said, "She has only just turned five, her manners still need some work." It was evidently false modesty, especially after her perfect curtsies. Both she and Mother knew her behaviour so far had been faultless - and so did everyone else.
"Only just five?" Narcissa looked back at her again, some interest in her eyes now.
The pleased look in Mother's eyes returned. "Yes, her birthday was only a few days ago."
"Vincent's only a few months older than her and can hardly tell up from down some days," Lady Crabbe laughed, "You must tell us who tutors her."
Lady Greengrass' mouth evened into a thin line for only a moment, before the smile was back. "Yes, even Daphne hardly has such decorum."
Ah, Daphne. She wonders if Lady Greengrass had been comparing her to her own daughter. Mother would likely do the same when they returned home.
Narcissa beckoned Pansy closer to the table, "I'm sure you'd rather do other things than sit with us, adults," She said, interrupting the conversation before it could continue any further. "Dobby!"
There was a familiar pop and a House-Elf appeared, wearing a crisp white pillow case, a crested pin on his chest. "Yes, Mistress!" He had large green eyes and the largest ears she'd ever seen, bigger than Gilli's for sure.
"Dobby, fetch Draco from the garden to lead Miss Parkinson to the other children." Narcissa said.
With a pop, he disappeared.
There was a moment of silence, interrupted by a flick of Lady Malfoy's wand as ornate tea cups were suddenly refilled from a hovering teapot.
After a moment, the sound of running footsteps caught the room's attention as a boy skidded to a stop at the entrance of the outer doors, eyes widening at the attention before straightening and stepping inside. There was a small group of children in the distance around a garden bench, close enough that the adults could keep an eye on them but far enough that the children's chattering wouldn't ruin the ambience of the tea party.
"Mother." Said the boy.
Draco Malfoy had his mother's pale hair and fine features. His white shirt was crisp and clean, despite having been in the gardens. His black shorts were similarly spotless, stopping just above his knees. The only signs he'd probably been playing were the unbuttoned cuffs of his shirt, one rolled up to his elbow.
There was a surprising softness to his face. It shouldn't surprise her that he was so young but it did. He was so little, a child, much younger than he had ever appeared in the Story.
Narcissa's expression tightened for a brief second, lingering on the sleeves, and Draco looked down at his shoes bewildered as he tried to find his fault.
"Draco, darling, why don't you show Pansy the gardens?"
"Yes, Mother." Draco nodded stiffly, approaching her and offering an arm. Pansy smiled at him cautiously, slipping her arm into the crook of his elbow. "I'll take you to the others." He said, guiding her out the door.
"We're playing Merlin and Morgana," He chattered as they walked, "I'm Merlin and Daphne is Morgana, Vincent and Greg are my servants, and we're casting curses against each other. Merlin needs to keep the king – it's a piece from my chessboard – on the throne and Morgana has to put her own king on the throne - like the tale." He hardly paused for breath as they walked. "Daphne's rubbish at it so I'm winning." He smirked, sticking his chin out proudly.
Pansy blinked – Draco Malfoy was a chatterbox , she could hardly believe it.
Pansy waited until they'd left the conservatory and it's daggered smiles behind before she spoke. "Your sleeves," She gestured.
His chin dropped to his chest and his eyes widened at the sight. Red bloomed on his ears. "Right," He said hurriedly, tugging the rolled sleeve down. "I meant to do that."
Pansy nodded, with a bit of a grin. "Of course."
Draco squinted at her for a moment, looking unsure if he was being teased or if she was being genuine, before he crinkled his nose and seemed to decide it was unimportant. They approached the group of children, waiting at the bench
"Oh good, you're back." A slightly heavy set boy with a bowl cut looked up.
"That's Vince," Draco pointed towards him and then to the other boy. "That's Greg."
Greg smiled back shyly.
"You can be on Daphne's team, since you're both girls." He ordered, pointing to the last child, the only other girl. "This is Pansy."
Pansy sized the other girl up and watched the other do the same carefully. Daphne was a pretty child, with curly black hair and blue eyes. With her own dark hair and light-coloured eyes, they could probably pass as sisters. Well, there was probably a shared relation somewhere in the family tree.
"I heard you've been losing." Pansy said, without much tact.
Daphne's eyes narrowed. She tossed her hair over her shoulders with a hand, the curls bouncing slightly with the movement. "There's three of the boys and one of me." She said archly, daring her to make fun.
Pansy smiled, genuinely, at the irritation in her voice. Daphne clearly hated losing. Just a kid. "Shall we even the odds a bit? An alliance?"
Daphne flicked her eyes up and down, and then towards the three boys who were now huddled together whispering. "Sure - got any good ideas?"
"What are the boys' strengths?" Pansy said instead.
An hour later, the boys were puffing out of breath, lying in a heap in the hot sun as Daphne and Pansy watched them from the shade, their black King piece sitting proudly on the flat rock that the children had dubbed the 'throne'.
Draco whined about it being unfair, and yelled at Vincent for tripping into Greg, and it being too hot for running games anymore.
Pansy and Daphne grinned triumphantly at each other.
"That was a good plan," The other girl said, after a moment.
"You were a good teammate." Pansy replied, neutrally.
With the way their mothers were looking at each other, they'd probably never be close friends but Daphne was a nice enough girl, if a little territorial over her place as the only girl in the group.
"Thanks."
"No problem."