Unlike with many Pureblood families, Pansy's parents had always made time for her. Whether at home, or the office, they always seemed to have a moment to spare if she needed them. Dinner, as well, always featured plenty of conversation, as they talked about how their days had gone, or made plans for seizing the next one.
Serious talks, however, always happened over tea.
Pansy breathed in deeply, enjoying the scent of her favorite blend as it steamed gently in her cup. It was a little funny how a simple cup of tea could help her feel safer than the gates crashing shut behind her, or the sight of the family walls rising up all around her.
Her father put down his own cup, which seemed fit to boil over at any moment. Lord Parkinson had always favored keeping his tea at an absolutely blistering heat, as though to make up for his otherwise mild manor. It was a pungent blend as well, fairly filling the room with the scent of honey and reeds in still water.
"And you never saw their faces?" he asked, his hands folded neatly upon his desk. This was the second time they had gone over the details, if one included the rather anxious explanation that Pansy had given her parents when they had finally arrived at the Three Broomsticks.
Lady Parkinson was, at this very moment, arranging to cancel the search party before it could begin, but Pansy expected that she'd be the target of some rather overenthusiastic fussing as soon as her mother got back.
This meant that it fell to her father to figure out what had happened, a task that had taken the better part of the afternoon. It was odd how a single traumatic event, only a few hours long, could require a response almost five times a long.
"No," Pansy replied as she put down her own cup, carefully preventing it from clinking. "My rescuers were very careful to keep their identities concealed. I believe they were worried about retaliation, and justly so."
"I see," Lord Parkinson replied, leaning back in his chair ever so slightly. She didn't know how much of the lie he had bought, if any of it, but she doubted it mattered either way. Her mother might have been the one to teach Pansy about diplomacy, but her father had been the one to show her politics. Whatever his doubts, he'd back her without question, and trust her to know what she was doing.
As far as the rest of the world was concerned, the identities of her rescuers was, and would remain, a mystery. The House of Parkinson would make sure of it.
"Hm. Very well then, though it seems a shame," Lord Parkinson finally declared as he picked up his cup again. "I would have liked to thank your rescuers."
"Yes, a shame," Pansy replied, hiding her expression behind her own cup.
Her father's shrewd expression showed that he wasn't fooled, but he relented after only a few moments. "In any case, we likely have bigger problems. This...Voldemort creature has crossed the line. I could have looked past his attacks when he was willing to restrict himself to certain… undesirables, but attacking my daughter is another entirely-"
*CLINK*
Lord Parkinson paused at the sound of a cup getting set down onto its saucer far, far too hard. "Pansy?" he asked, as he peered at his daughter. "Are you sure you're okay? We have time, you know, so if you need a break…"
Pansy asked for a moment with an upraised hand, and took a deep breath, before slowly letting it out. "I apologize, father," she finally said. "I thought I could do this, but apparently I'm not as well as I thought."
"Yes, yes, perfectly understandable, considering what you've gone through," Lord Parkinson said. "Now, I'm sure you must be exhausted, so why don't you go and have yourself a little nap? That way, your mother will be less likely to have me skinned."
Pansy tittered politely at the tired old joke, before plastering on the small, meaningless smile that she had taken to wearing around the house. "Do you mind if I write Draco about this?" she asked as she rose from her chair.
Lord Parkinson hummed in consideration. "I'm not sure. I don't see why not, but I expect that the Auror's and… other, interested parties might prefer you keep certain details...private."
So, Lord Riddle was taking an interest, then? Somehow, Pansy wasn't surprised. It was hard to believe that once upon a time, she would have taken Lord Riddle's attention as an opportunity. Now, it was mostly one more obstacle on a day that had been full of them.
Something to worry about later, she supposed. "Well then, if you'll excuse me, father." She walked over to the door, only to pause when Lord Parkinson called out her name.
"Rest assured," her father declared, as he set down his slowly cooling cup. "The creatures responsible for this treachery will not get away with it. I swear it."
"I know, father," she replied, before shutting the door behind it.
Rather than walk away, however, she found herself slumping against it, raising her hands to her face to hold in her angry hiss. 'Undesirables?' she growled to herself. 'Would you feel that way, if you knew who my rescuer was? Would you feel that way about Rigel, after everything he's done for me?'
'And if I pointed out everything that the Party has done for me, every line they've crossed, every attack that they've foisted onto my school, every way in which they've put me and my friends at risk, would you hold them accountable for it?' she demanded in a silent cry, glaring out into the darkness of her house. 'Or would you simply write it off as a necessary sacrifice?'
Somehow, the empty halls couldn't find it in themselves to answer, and Pansy soon felt her anger draining away. She shook her head to bring her thoughts back into focus, before turning and stalking off to her room. She had a letter to write.
