A/N: Whoa, it's been awhile since I've updated this fic. My apologies.
The mirror was definitely Pansy Parkinson's friend.
She modeled outside the shop's fitting room, running a hand over the vintage pleaded white skirt with a haughty smirk. The length and drop was perfect for elongating her body and hiding her pudgy stomach. Though she had no idea why, a bit of her old self always arose when she was shopping. Old self? Pansy thought, when did the new 'me' arrive? Was it with this baby? With Draco's goodbye? What's different about me anyhow? I'm the same as I've always been. Pansy didn't want to question the legitimacy of that thought nor its consequences. She was happy to look up at the reflection and see the shop's clerk approaching from behind.
"I'll take this as well," Pansy stated, gesturing down at her clothes.
The woman frowned, her pursed lips reminding the young witch of Professor McGonagall, and held up the 'credit card' as several stores had dubbed the piece of plastic. "I'm sorry, miss, but we can't take this card. Do you have another method of payment? If not. . .well, it's a quarter after closing already."
Pansy blinked, trying not to let the disappointment she was feeling cross her face. "On second thought, I already have something a bit like that. Perhaps I'll wait on the hat as well."
The witch slipped back into the tiny fitting room. When she heard the attendant's footsteps leading back to the front of the shop, she let out a frustrated sigh. "Those damn things run out?" she hissed. "They should come with a bloody warning. It would have been nice for Draco to mention that when he gave it too me. Of course, he did say to use it as a last resort."
Pansy had used the card sparingly after receiving Draco's message, but she had been forced to show it when she arrived at a new hotel. The young witch had managed to switch to five hotels and inns in the last two weeks, spending her muggle currency on food and new clothing—after all, she couldn't blend in last season's fashions, now could she? Perhaps her wallet had been a bit too loose, but she hadn't expected everything to be so expensive. Her mother had not been the type to teach her to 'thrift shop'—that sort of second hand nonsense was for people who didn't care about moving up in society. Or at least that was what Pansy use to believe. Now, she'd much rather be in a previously worn dress than have the gnawing hunger in her stomach grow.
Pansy walked out of the fitting room with her head held high. She stepped out into the street, the shop keeper locking the door behind her. Night had already befallen the quiet little muggle town in which she had spent the last two nights. Only a few folk still remained outside: a young couple retiring arm in arm, a man in a business suit striding out of the liquor store with a bottle of wine, a little old woman opening her apartment door with a bag of groceries on her hip.
"All muggles, all the time," Pansy scoffed, walking past.
The inn in which she was staying was nothing more than a musty, two-story house off of the main street. The old man who ran it was most likely already in his bed, snoring as loud as a freight train. Pansy turned the corner, coming to a full stop. The Harrison Inn stood before her, less than a block away, its fenced-in front lawn nothing more than a corner dividing two lanes. But what made her halt was the light coming from the first window of the top floor. It was her room, the one she had rented for the evening. She had most definitely turned off the silly 'electric bulb' before she had left.
She took a step back and hid herself behind a building corner. A shadow walked in front of the window, and then another crossed over to meet it. Two people were in her room, probably going through her meager amount of belongings. That rules out the muggle owner then. Upon closer inspection she noticed that the front door was open, ever so slightly, though no light issued from the first floor. Her pulse quickened. The figures in front of the window were no longer there.
Pansy turned on her heels and down the street toward the opposite end. There she waited, catching her breath and listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. Thankfully, she heard none. In fact, she was completely alone, only the street lamps and moths to greet her. The fact of the matter was there were no muggle witnesses. With a grimace she pulled up her skirt. Her wand was strapped onto one pale thigh. She pulled it out of its holster and raised it.
One second passed, then two. As fast as lightning, a huge double-decker bus slammed to a stop in front of her. A young woman with short hair and a crooked grin stepped off, tilting her cap in greet. "Hello! Welcome onto the. . ."
"Enough small talk," Pansy interrupted. She brushed by the woman and into the bus. "Just drive," she commanded in a dignified air.
The other woman flared her nostrils but kept the smile on her face. "Very well, then, miss. Where do you which to go?"
Pansy took a moment. She honestly didn't have a clue as to where to hide or how on earth she was going to get a hotel on good looks alone. Then a small smirk reached her lips as a thought occurred to her. Thank you, Grandmother! Her father's mother, a woman of a hundred and ten, had quite recently passed on, leaving a small fortune behind. Nanna, as she referred on being called, had always hated her husband immensely for his numerous affairs, so, when he had suggested that young women should not have money of their own, she had automatically changed her will to leave her only grandchild, Pansy, a huge sum in an account entirely in the young witch's name. I'm willing to stake my wand that those bloody goblins would not have let my parents clean out the account, no matter the size of the bribe.
"Diagon Alley," she said, taking a seat on an empty bed.
She held her purse, the bag in which she always carried with her, close to her chest. Though her robes and school gear were still far behind in the Inn, she still had those things which where most important to her and a few knuts to pay for the ride. She was not completely without, and she was confident that she would never be completely without, no matter what.
It was perhaps her abundance of cool confidence that kept her more cautious side from noticing the wizard at the back of the bus, watching her from beneath a heavy, hood with greedy eyes.