That night I dreamed of a muggle.
I wasn't in the Parkinson's Manor anymore. Nor a witch. Nor a wealthy socialite in the wizarding world. Nor a pureblood.
But a muggle that had never heard of the wizarding world, never had to deal with wizarding politics, with people trying to kill others because they believed something like blood status made one superior or not, with trying to keep up reputations after the war, with a shitty media and legal system that put aristocrats in such a position, that I was never born in this reality.
Instead I dreamed I was born as a muggle, in a wealthy socialite family that were all muggles.
I dreamed of much of the same things as I had in my life at current. A beautiful mansion, lots of the most expensive clothes, furniture, items, electronics. I went to the best muggle boarding school. It was envied in the muggle world for all the same reasons I was envied in the magical world - because I was wealthy, because I didn't need to work, because I could afford to do nothing but fun events all my life.
I dreamed I married a muggle man. One without this sort of baggage with the war, becoming a deatheater. Just a carefree happy muggle man born in a similarly wealthy socialite family. That we got to do nothing but fun events all our lives - without any of the baggage of keeping up images or keeping on the right side of politics after a war. That we were protected from the tabloids and press a little because muggle law was better than wizarding law in some aspects.
I dreamed of long courtships. My mind replayed dates I'd wanted to be on and all these curious little romantic things in all the right places, all the sweet and cute moments, ending with a final image of us twirling in a ballroom of some newfound estate that we wished to buy and move into once we married, neither one of our inheritances, just a new one entirely to our own tastes. Taking my hand in his, my new muggle suitor spun me around. Looking about the same as Draco or any other boys I'd danced with at the balls, afterall, wizards and muggles looked the same when they weren't showcasing their magic. And that when I looked at him, I thought of him as almost the same as Draco, the same as the other boys who now felt like a distant memory, a haunting dream from an alternate reality, whilst I danced in this one.
And when I looked at him, I thought he was almost like them, but I knew that he was a muggle. Knew deep down he could not cast magic. And it was this little bit of daring, as if I dared to even date a muggle, that stuck with me when the lights went out, the dream ended, and all I felt was a pounding headache as my alarm clock woke me up the next day.
I slammed it of angrily, my mouth was dry, my head was hurting. I quickly got out of bed before I could fall asleep again and popped an aspirin in my mouth, swallowing it with a mug of water I'd always kept at my bedside table, before going through my morning routine and eating breakfast with my parents. If there was one thing about me it was that I didn't like being sick, hated it. I had good health most days and preferred as such. I liked most of my life luxurious, from my house to the furniture to the clothes I wore, the food I ate, I was used to living in luxury, and I had the best friends out of everyone at Hogwarts (Daphne, Millicent - the most high class friends there ever were), and I didn't like anything less, including when I didn't physically feel well.
It made me feel unluxurious to be ill, and so I readily took anything because I simply couldn't stand feeling underneath the weather. I just didn't have the patience for it.
"Slept poorly?" my mother tried to make some light conversation for a bit of noise as we ate. I usually got up before my alarm clock went of, but I had an alarm in case I slept in. Something which I didn't like surprisingly. It rarely went of except for today. Usually my alarm clock registered I was up by a magical ward that sensed if I was in bed or not. Magical wards were like our equivalent of electricity I supposed. Or magnetism. Or internet. Or whatever it was that muggles called their technology that could do things from afar without you seeing sensing or touching it for yourself. Many things that were done without anyone physically being there were through wards. They interfered with electricity a lot so that was why no electronics would work at Hogwarts or in our home.
"Yeah, bad dream," I said as I took a bite out of a scone with jam and cream.
"Oh dear, you don't usually have bad dreams. Care to share?" my mother said for more conversation. Usually there was chatter at breakfast about things around the house, ourselves, a little bit of work, and when there wasn't there was a comfortable silence that flowed between my mother, father and I. Sometimes my mother liked to make light chatter when there was none because she liked a good air. Although my father sometimes didn't join in - he merely read the paper and listened, my mother told me he liked this gentle chatter and that it was a good cheerful thing for the family so I liked it too by default.
I liked my father (and my mother), in fact I liked both my parents very much, and generally wanted them to be happy. If they were happy it made me happy, so I liked a bit of chatter at breakfast as well.
"I dreamt I was in the muggle world again," I said as I cut up a bit of black pudding, "I almost thought it was easier times to grow up as a wealthy socialite in the muggle world. But then...I was reminded of how we'd never have gotten as rich as we were if it weren't for magic."
This was a common escapist fantasy. Of being a wealthy socialite in the muggle world. I loved being a wealthy socialite of one of the Sacred 27 family's - I really did and was thankful for all that I was born into despite my complaints - but sometimes when things just got too much, well, I suppose for me, the muggle world was new, unfamiliar, exciting enough, to become some sort of escapist fantasy and it had been with me ever since childhood.
My parents weren't as disconnected from the muggle world as other halfbloods thought we were. Father used to buy lots of muggle products - laptops, computers, mostly electronics, sometimes muggle clothes, makeup, cosmetics, everything, half out of wanting to spoil mother and I, and half out of simple curiosity. I remember days of unwrapping gifts and presents in my childhood when the massive orders had arrived. Of a look of curiosity, ingenuity, on father's face as he unwrapped some of them, even though none of them worked. Of mother's enjoyment of some of the muggle luxuries as well.
Even though father worked with muggles in the business world (sometimes), but he only talked business - mostly financing - and they rarely discussed muggle culture or lifestyle, we weren't cut of from the muggle world and had bought lots of luxuries money could buy. Father also bought muggle magazines at times and my mother and I poured over them, commenting on the difference between wizarding luxury goods and muggle luxury goods. We'd even rode a plane several times, gone on holidays ran by muggle tourist companies at times.
I didn't have any muggle friends. Nor did I do anything like go to a muggle school ever, or take a muggle class somewhere, anywhere that I'd make some, but I was up to date with some things and I did appreciate some aspects of the modern muggle world, even if they were still alien and unfamiliar to me. I didn't quite live under a complete rock.
This escapist fantasy, of a nice muggle world bubbling with all the muggle luxuries that were of great curiosity to us, but without some of the agreed upon irks of the wizarding world, as one I'd shared with my family before, and mother understood the feeling. 'The grass is always greener on the other side', she had said. Father did as well. So it wasn't criminal in our household to admit this, as long as we weren't too fanatic about it.
"All that matters is that we are wealthy," said my father, "the Parkinsons are all about wealth. Be it the muggle world or the magical world, we shall strive for wealth, to be on top because we are one of the most wealthiest family's, and to always care about it, no matter where we find ourselves. It's just that we happened to be magical for as long as we could remember so we would show gratitude to the recent family history we can remember, but it is really only tradition we cling onto magic. And tradition we believe we are superior to muggles. I mean, purebloods do tend to have greater wealth in the wizarding society than muggle-borns or halfbloods. You can't deny that fact."
"If you see a pureblood they're more likely to be wealthy than a non-pureblood. If you see someone that's poor they're more likely to be a muggle-born or a halfblood. If you wanted to talk to someone decent, asking to speak to a pureblood is a surefire way to get that. What can I say, it's just simple statistics," said my mother with an indifferent shrug, "if it was the opposite way around we'd praise muggle-borns but it's not. I don't get why some muggle-borns or halfbloods hate this view so much, though it's important to not speak of it in public. That will cause too much conflict."
"Of course," I said, "I've never liked change much. I've always upheld tradition. I expect I shall stay in the magical world and so will the foreseeable Parkinsons in the future. I simply cannot see another way. The muggle world shall remain a fantasy."
It was true. I complained about my status and position sometimes, but ultimately I was thankful for it and I didn't think I would like change or mass reform or anything. I still liked tradition and I wanted my future family to be the same as I - wealthy socialites, pureblooded, Sacred 27, or 26, 28, wherever the hell it may be, and for my children and grandchildren to live similar lives as I.
I wanted children and grandchildren in abstract, though my actual romances were so twisted and broken I didn't think about it in concrete terms. I would have to wait longer to even begin thinking about starting a family or anything in concrete terms. Though the idea I liked generally.
"A nice one all the same," remarked my mother, "muggles are much better than say, mermaid luxury products, or centaur luxury products or anything. Now those are hardly my definition of luxurious, even as luxurious as they get."
We made a few more bits of small talk before my father left for work.
Then mother informed me she had arranged for me to have lessons with my old dancing tutor again and I found myself face to face with her in the ballroom after breakfast.
"Pansy. You have gained weight," said Governess Carson as she took my hands in hers and swept me around the ballroom; dancing the role of the leader and no doubt judging my lack of prowess now that it had been several years since I last saw her. 3 to be exact.
I bit my tongue and tuned most of her out except for the necessary bits as we danced and she gave her explanations of what was wrong, her corrections, and then talked of setting homework exercises and frequent visits. I gave an inward sigh as we danced around some more, through all the main dances she'd taught me. I knew I was likely to see her for at least the next few months on end, possibly year or more, in order to properly touch up as per her standards since my mother arranged for lessons again.
Adults usually liked me. My parents and family adored me, I was every bit the wealthy socialite pureblood witch was supposed to be growing up, and a little bit more, I played into that role well and hit all the spots for the most part. Teachers at Hogwarts generally liked me. Adults outside of Hogwarts from companies or elsewhere sucked up to me. Governess Carson was the only adult who possibly disliked me.
I didn't like her and cried out of shock after the first lesson. Mother told me that Governess Carson was a fussy old lady who liked to criticise everyone so I shouldn't mind what she said, but she was the best instructor out there for ballroom dancing, and one of the only ones she could hire, so I ought to be kind to her unless I wanted to be without a ballroom teacher.
Governess Carson was good. Without her I wouldn't be half as athletic or good at ballroom dancing as I was. Or I would be twice the laughing stock that I currently was on the dance floor.
But Governess Carson was the only one who ever made me feel insecure about my physical imperfections.
Both my mother and I were a little bit plump. It was just in our genes. Nothing we did could change it. I suppose there were major things - trying extreme dark magic potions or rituals to permanently alter form or anything like that, but we weren't going to go that far. Generally though, I was built more heavily than other girls my age and that had always been something I was insecure about. I knew it was in my genes ever since I was young, I knew I was always a bit heavier than the other girls when I was a small child. I never liked admitting my imperfections but if there ever was one I would've admitted to myself back then it was probably this.
In the teenage years I'd tried diets, I'd tried exercise even, a number of things but they largely made no difference. After a while I just gave up and decided to live - as I was. People reassured me I was beautiful. Mother said as long as you had wealth, expensive clothes, items, makeup, jewellery, everything, there was a certain amount of forgiveness afforded to you and that it didn't matter what you looked like. Mother said men of this class looked for more than just looks, they looked for class, familiarity with wealth, this lifestyle, social graces, and that I needn't worry about my looks much, I was perfect the way I was.
Certainly if Draco had ever had anything against me because of the way I looked he didn't make it a point at all between the two of us, or made it into anything I was supposed to be aware or conscious of. He may not have particularly thought me attractive but wanted to date me because of our positions of social class, and if he did, he had not intended for me to know or be hurt by it. Ever.
So it wasn't Draco that made me feel bad about it. But yet sometimes I still cried myself to sleep at night and wished I was thinner.
The grass is always greener on the other side.
Everyone has insecurities.
Even though my mother, Draco, a lot of other people, reassured me it didn't matter or I was perfect, if there was anything I was ever insecure about, it was probably my weight.
I didn't show it on the outside. I shrugged on an attitude of not caring like mother or everyone else expected for me, but secretly I was the most unhappiest whenever someone attacked me there.
Governess Carson was a shrewd bitch who always commented on the miniature flaws of others. She was the only one who made it clear she liked to teach skinny girls and made me feel like shit. I hated for her for it. But I bit my tongue all these years and selectively tuned her out just to get my lessons and deal.
It worked and I actually left the lesson several hours later feeling like I was more brushed up than I had been in years. Governess Carson was a good dancer despite her poor demeanor and her instructions were like magic unblocking whatever was blocking me when she danced with me.
I had lunch with mother and then we ended up dancing in the ballroom together. She danced the part of the male lead, letting me practice the part of the female. The breeze blew in nicely through the open windows as we danced. I could see the beautiful leaves of the sacramore trees of our lawns in the distance as we twirled around and around.
"How was Governess Carson?" she asked.
I shrugged, "poorly mannered as usual. But what can I say, she's a good teacher."
Mother chuckled, "sometimes that's the trade-of. Life." she gave a wistful sigh.
My mother never exactly knew how much Governess Carson bugged me about my weight. She certainly never did it in front of my adults and the first time I cried after a lesson it was because of her general criticisms and remarks. I think that was all I ended up saying to mother though my memory's of that was just a blurry mess of tears that it wasn't very accurate anyway, and so mother just thought Governess Carson was a mean person who liked to criticise in general. I don't think she quite knew just how specific it was on the way I looked sometimes but as I had learnt to tune her so she wasn't a problem for me anymore I hadn't thought it worthwhile to mention to mother when I was growing up - I was too excited to talk about other things - that I never had and so that was the status quo at the moment. Mother didn't know.
Governess Carson was the only adult I'd ever really hated, besides Lord Voldemort who I didn't like for how much he disrupted the pretty pureblood wealthy socialite world that used to exist before he came with his creepy deatheater thing and all, so perhaps I took some joy in hating someone for the first time as well, and I let myself savour the feeling of stewing in that hatred and many verbal insults in my head whilst I had my lessons with her. Perhaps that was a reason why I hadn't chanced to let her go so much. She was a novel experience for me.
After we grew tired of dancing we chose to have a light afternoon tea that day, then I went up to the gallery before dinner because I felt in a reminiscent mood. All the memories of my previous governesses and tutors washed over me as I glanced at their portraits whilst wondering about. Even though I had graduated from their lessons ages ago and no longer saw any of them frequently I did miss them a little bit. The pangs of childhood nostalgia at the Parkinson Manor and some of my many memories growing up there beamed back at me as I walked the length of the gallery - lost in thought.
Author's Note: Two actresses played Pansy. I liked the one in the later movies because it more closely matched with how I imagined her from Rowling's description in the books. I know body insecurities isn't really a nice topic to delve into but I wanted to write her accurately and I thought Pansy would most likely suffer from these insecurities over any other insecurities in the books and I wanted to write her accurately so...