**(**Disclaimer**(** I do not own J.K.'s truly spiffy, magnificent and
frisky (those are my favorite words() world of the potty one, that is to
say the Harry Potter series. Pansy and Harry are not mine, nor is the Great
Hall or any other characters that play a minor roll in this fic. So
needless to say, I don't claim to own the great institution of Hogwarts.
This action of typing, peering at the screen through creepy green glasses
and the clickety of my fingies on the keyboard DO NOT YIELD ME ANY FUNDS!
So without further adieu: my fic; happy reading y'all. Oh wait-we still
have an author's note to cover! What fun(!
**(**Author's Note, otherwise known as the 'Note from the Author**(** Please note that this is a fic (well no duh!) written by a much hyped girl on caffeine who is taking a break from her usual beloved slash. Ahem, I think I'll stop talking about myself in the third person right about now. Righty-o I wrote this mainly about Pansy Parkinson who I think could be a truly spiffy character if she tried (and in this fic I MAKE HER) and also I'd like to say that I know a lot of assholes but I don't think that anyone could be as vapid and shallow as J.K. made that girl to be (at least in this mindset that's what I think). Now for real: my fic.
Harry Potter: The Green-Eyed Thorn in the Side
By: Diana
The shank of the evening had finally slithered its way under the heavy door of the Slytherin Common Room. Pansy Parkinson sat with her feet up in her chair, alone and reading her came-via-owl copy of Witch Weekly. After that article on Hermione Granger, the pug-faced Slytherin laughed long and hard thinking of that particular mudblood Gryffindor scum going steady and then breaking the heart of her Potter. These words weren't true; any of them. Not Rita Skeeter's and certainly not Pansy Parkinson's. The words also brought tears to her large, normally dull eyes. Harry Potter would never be her Potter. But like hell was she even going to allow him to be Granger's, even in that fictional and petty sense.
So the Slytherin girl set to work at a desk by the fire, the heat from the flame giving her a greasy maniacal gleam. With large malicious scissors, Pansy delicately snipped out individual letters from Witch Weekly. Just as she lay her two-bladed weapon down, a soft voice came from the doorway. "Pansy? What're you doing so late?"
Arrgh! It's Draco! Pansy thought in anguish. "N-nothing Draco. Just my Transfigurations homework!" she replied hastily, sweeping the letters into her lap in case he decided to advance for a further look.
"Oh alright, just curious s'all," Malfoy replied sleepily and then ascended the stairs back to his dormitory. Pansy pushed the paper letters back onto her desk in a flutter. What was the point of this....this petty revenge? It was nothing really, just something to make her feel like she'd done something about her dilemma. Shaking her head of those thoughts; blaming it on fatigue Pansy began to glue the inky slips of newspaper onto a fresh sheet of parchment.
After about twenty minutes of tedious gluing (Pansy didn't have the steadiest hand in the world; especially thinking about how red the Weasel's ears would be after seeing someone slandering his little mudblood girlfriend), the parchment finally read in mismatched typeface 'You are a wicked girl. Harry Potter deserves better. Go back where you came from muggle.'
Pansy had been very tempted indeed, to add 'like that cute Slytherin girl who's hopelessly devoted to him' but obviously didn't. Hermione wouldn't get that anyhow; Pansy was in no way 'cute' unless you asked Draco Malfoy of course. And he would just say that because they were betrothed.
Sighing knowing this was the best she could do the tawdry Slytherin summoned her owl, Hydrangea to bring it to the Granger girl first thing in the morning. Pansy slept uneasily that night; the unease of anticipation. The girl's preparation and anticipation was rewarded the next morning at breakfast. Pansy only wished she had sent it in the form of a Howler. Even Draco laughed at the redness of the Weasel's ears, the indignant look of Hermione Granger and Harry Potter's frantic movements to get her down to the Hospital Wing to remedy the bobotuber puss someone else had sent. Pansy was satisfied at the fact that other people shared her feelings but still felts strangely empty when leaving the Great Hall with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle still recounting the events of breakfast.
**(**
OK so maybe I was wrong. Maybe Pansy is vapid and shallow and petty and all that. What're your thoughts? This is my first story, be polite but please don't sugar coat it. Subtle hint to please review this piece. I'm thinking of adding a song to it....any suggestions?
**(**Author's Note, otherwise known as the 'Note from the Author**(** Please note that this is a fic (well no duh!) written by a much hyped girl on caffeine who is taking a break from her usual beloved slash. Ahem, I think I'll stop talking about myself in the third person right about now. Righty-o I wrote this mainly about Pansy Parkinson who I think could be a truly spiffy character if she tried (and in this fic I MAKE HER) and also I'd like to say that I know a lot of assholes but I don't think that anyone could be as vapid and shallow as J.K. made that girl to be (at least in this mindset that's what I think). Now for real: my fic.
Harry Potter: The Green-Eyed Thorn in the Side
By: Diana
The shank of the evening had finally slithered its way under the heavy door of the Slytherin Common Room. Pansy Parkinson sat with her feet up in her chair, alone and reading her came-via-owl copy of Witch Weekly. After that article on Hermione Granger, the pug-faced Slytherin laughed long and hard thinking of that particular mudblood Gryffindor scum going steady and then breaking the heart of her Potter. These words weren't true; any of them. Not Rita Skeeter's and certainly not Pansy Parkinson's. The words also brought tears to her large, normally dull eyes. Harry Potter would never be her Potter. But like hell was she even going to allow him to be Granger's, even in that fictional and petty sense.
So the Slytherin girl set to work at a desk by the fire, the heat from the flame giving her a greasy maniacal gleam. With large malicious scissors, Pansy delicately snipped out individual letters from Witch Weekly. Just as she lay her two-bladed weapon down, a soft voice came from the doorway. "Pansy? What're you doing so late?"
Arrgh! It's Draco! Pansy thought in anguish. "N-nothing Draco. Just my Transfigurations homework!" she replied hastily, sweeping the letters into her lap in case he decided to advance for a further look.
"Oh alright, just curious s'all," Malfoy replied sleepily and then ascended the stairs back to his dormitory. Pansy pushed the paper letters back onto her desk in a flutter. What was the point of this....this petty revenge? It was nothing really, just something to make her feel like she'd done something about her dilemma. Shaking her head of those thoughts; blaming it on fatigue Pansy began to glue the inky slips of newspaper onto a fresh sheet of parchment.
After about twenty minutes of tedious gluing (Pansy didn't have the steadiest hand in the world; especially thinking about how red the Weasel's ears would be after seeing someone slandering his little mudblood girlfriend), the parchment finally read in mismatched typeface 'You are a wicked girl. Harry Potter deserves better. Go back where you came from muggle.'
Pansy had been very tempted indeed, to add 'like that cute Slytherin girl who's hopelessly devoted to him' but obviously didn't. Hermione wouldn't get that anyhow; Pansy was in no way 'cute' unless you asked Draco Malfoy of course. And he would just say that because they were betrothed.
Sighing knowing this was the best she could do the tawdry Slytherin summoned her owl, Hydrangea to bring it to the Granger girl first thing in the morning. Pansy slept uneasily that night; the unease of anticipation. The girl's preparation and anticipation was rewarded the next morning at breakfast. Pansy only wished she had sent it in the form of a Howler. Even Draco laughed at the redness of the Weasel's ears, the indignant look of Hermione Granger and Harry Potter's frantic movements to get her down to the Hospital Wing to remedy the bobotuber puss someone else had sent. Pansy was satisfied at the fact that other people shared her feelings but still felts strangely empty when leaving the Great Hall with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle still recounting the events of breakfast.
**(**
OK so maybe I was wrong. Maybe Pansy is vapid and shallow and petty and all that. What're your thoughts? This is my first story, be polite but please don't sugar coat it. Subtle hint to please review this piece. I'm thinking of adding a song to it....any suggestions?