.
Part One | Strike the Match
Three. Smells Like Summer
Arriving back from her very early, sporadic jaunt to the cow field, Pansy sat on the edge of her bed. She took a deep breath and allowed her upper body to fall backwards, feeling the springs bounce beneath her head. Closing her eyes, she attempted, for what felt like the millionth time that night, or morning now, she supposed, to take stock of her thoughts.
I'm Head Girl - fucking hell!
I have a Death Eater for a father - fucking fuck!
Pretty sure I now smell like cow - fucking yuck!
Shifting her weight to her elbows, Pansy hoisted herself up slightly, her eyes moving to her window as she reached for the wand in her pocket.
Closing her eyes, Pansy focused her mind; thinking the spell in the most direct way she could muster. She opened her eyes and stared, unblinking, at the window.
"Alohomora." The window's lock fell open, and Pansy smiled, realising she had managed to non-verbally open the window about an inch. Initially, Pansy had planned on throwing herself back onto the bed once more, however, a familiar scent reached her nostrils, distracting her and pushing the majority of her current misgivings to the back of her mind.
It smells like summer.
"It's summer now, Mummy! It's really summer!"
"Yes, Pansy."
"No, Mummy. It's s-u-mmer! It smells like summer."
"Mmmhmmm."
Pansy swayed on the edges of her feet and rolled her head from side to side, her face the picture of expectation; eyes round, two teeth missing from her wide grin. She watched, mouth slowly closing as her mother turned and walk away.
"But, it smells like summer..." Pansy trailed off and tried hard to hold back the tears she was already aware had started to gather in her eyes. A face with tears is not a pretty one. Shaking her head fiercely, Pansy did her best to abide by her mother's so often said mantra.
Taking a deep breath, Pansy turned to her right and her reflection blinked back at her from an ornate mirror. Plain and pretty in equal measures; pale skin, black hair, and green eyes... eyes that were still watery and threatening to overspill tears down her cheeks.
"A face with tears is not a pretty one," the six year old repeated, aloud this time.
Pansy swallowed while simultaneously nodding to her reflection. Mummy just forgot. I can still go myself, still have fun. Still go. Still have fun.
After one last determined nod to herself, she marched swiftly, a small giggle escaping her as she pulled each knee up as high as she could. She reached her destination skipping into the large kitchen, and Pansy began her search.
Sandwiches; mmmmm.
Apples; a bit less mmmmm.
Biscuits; lots of mmmmm.
Pumpkin juice; middle amounts of mmmmm.
Pansy laughed out loud, locating, and subsequently climbing atop a counter in order to reach, a brown wicker picnic basket. Jumping down, the young girl stomped to the counter island and began carefully placing each item of food into the basket as carefully as she was able. Can't squash the sandwiches, because then they'll be flatwidges. Pansy snorted at her play on words and positioned the small bottle of pumpkin juice next to the sandwiches, paying particular attention to their level of squashedness.
After she was finished admiring her picnic-basket-packing handiwork, Pansy grabbed hold of the handle and swung the basket from the counter which promptly hit against her left knee.
Ooof!
Pansy frowned at the offending basket. "That hurt, you know."
As she exited the back door of the large country house, Pansy stopped and looked back, willing herself not to feel sad, yet unable to remove the mask of disappointment which had shifted over her pale features.
Maybe if I reminded her then she'd come- No! Pansy physically shook her head again. She forgot because she had another busy plan.
Pansy Parkinson's thoughts were deceiving. She was lying to herself, at a mere six years, in spite of what she hopelessly wanted to believe as the truth. Sometimes, Pansy thought to herself, a lie is better than the truth. Pansy brushed some hair behind her right ear, and looked at her shoes; pale blue and scuffed at the toes.
A face with tears is not a pretty one. A face with tears is not a pretty one. A face with tears is not a pretty one.
Pansy descended the three small steps which led from the kitchen to the spacious country garden that accommodated the Parkinson homestead. She paused at the bottom and observed her surroundings. By most standards, both house and the encircling gardens were beautiful. The large, Victorian structure was, by rights, more of a manor than a regular old house, and the gardens would be more accurately described as 'grounds'.
Inhaling deeply through her nose, she thought to herself, It smells like summer.
Pansy hadn't yet left the confines of the gardens before the picnic basket had become nothing more than an annoyance. When I'm...at Hogwarts, Pansy puffed, scowling, I won't...have to… carry things… ever again. By the time she had finally arrived at her journey's end she was exhausted; she was hot, gasping for breath, and sweaty.
Oh, I'm all yuck!
Pansy sat, legs and arms both outstretched, and sighed. allowing her upper body to fall backwards. Her back hit the grass with a muffled thwack. My favourite place in the world. She lay in a grassy verge, surrounded by birch trees and bramble bushes. The Parkinson's home was visible to Pansy's left and to her right was a large square field. Pansy sat up and turned her attention to the field, she had chosen this particular spot purposefully, as it was close to the field's gate. Her earlier sadness depleted, Pansy began to unpack her picnic and her face broke into a wide smile as she noticed a familiar figure walk towards her.
MOOOOO!
Giggling, Pansy moo'd back.
"I told you I'd come back!"
Pansy turned on her heel, her back pressing into the windowsill. Her breathing was so heavy her chest hurt, and she felt as though her mind might explode. Moving quickly towards the bathroom, Pansy stopped in at an airing cupboard and retrieved her favourite towel; light blue in colour with the words Beach, please written in yellow at one end. Daphne had given it to her at the end of Fourth Year when she'd invited Pansy on holiday with the Greengrass family. Daphne had a matching towel in opposite colours, hers featuring the text Please, beach. Pansy smiled. Daphne was on holiday again now, to America. Unfortunately for Pansy, the Greengrass' had portkey'd halfway around the world to stay with some far-flung relatives to attend a family wedding. Very much a Greengrass-only affair. Pansy raised the towel to her face, changing its function into a tissue.
Oh Daph, are you going to hate me when you find out about my dad?
They were standing in front of a large, walnut coloured door that led into a large building Pansy didn't recognise. "Pansy, stop fidgeting."
I do not fidget. Pansy's face had dropped, she knew she was scowling; she knew this would only annoy her mother more, and yet she wasn't willing to stop. She did, however, keep her accompanying sigh at what she believed to be an inaudible volume.
Lilith looked upon her nine-year-old daughter, one perfectly preened eyebrow slowly rising. Pansy glanced back, and watched Lilith's nostrils flare. She gulped, and her gaze shifted to her feet. Maybe I didn't make my sigh quiet enough. The door they were facing began to open, and Pansy let out another sigh, this time, of relief. A house elf was standing in the doorway. I wonder if it's a boy or girl?
"Greetings, Mrs. Parkinson," the elf squeaked at Lilith, lowering itself into a bow. Rising up it looked at Pansy. "Miss. Parkinson," it said before bowing once more. Wow! It bowed at me. Pansy smiled at the elf. "Are you a girl? What's your name?" Huh, I didn't know elves could look surprised.
Bowing, once more, the elf retorted, "My name is Tula, young Miss, and yes, I am a girl."
Knew it, Pansy thought, smugly. She looks like a girl. Pansy glanced at her mother, surprised to find she was already watching the young girl once more, in a manner that instinctively caused Pansy to drop her head again to examine her shoes. Oh, she looks maaaaaad.
"Please, come in," Tula began, either oblivious to, or, more likely unwilling to comment on the tension that had befallen over the duo. "Mistress and little Miss are waiting for you both in the lounge. I will be happy to show you."
Nodding her head once, curtly, Lilith stepped into the house. Pansy followed suit, trying to emulate her mother's confident strides, however, instead ending up tripping over a small, brown Welcome mat. Pansy's knee hit the wooden floor, hard. Ow. Oh OW! No, don't cry. Don't cry! A face with tears-
"Get. Up. Now." Lilith hissed, sounding positively livid. Pansy swallowed hard and rose to her feet, her knee now stinging.
-is not a pretty one.
Pansy sniffed. Straightening her back she shifted her attention back to Tula, and Pansy thought she saw the elf give her a small, fleeting smile.
The trio walked in silence, Tula leading them through the long hallway, Pansy tried to count the doors they passed. Eight. Nine. Ten, I think. They stopped in front of the door at the very end of the corridor, upon which Tula knocked twice and pushed the door ajar.
"Mistress", Tula began as Pansy craned to see who exactly Tula's mistress was. And, who is the little Miss?
"Thank you Tula, would you fetch us the tea and cakes we spoke about?"
"Of course Mistress, right away." With a small pop Tula vanished, and Pansy was able to look inside the lounge.
The large room managed to look immaculate, perfectly presented, and yet was the picture of a comfortable family home. Large, squashy sofas created a border around one of the most comfortable rugs Pansy had ever seen; it was fluffy, and coloured a dark mauve. Pansy longed to lay on it. It looks like a purple cloud. Moving pictures lined the walls in no particular pattern, out of them beamed a family. They're all really beautiful, Pansy thought, watching the magical images. A small, square end table stood in front of the adjacent wall from the door, atop of which Pansy noticed the biggest bunch of flowers she had ever seen; rich purples, blues and reds spilt over their vase.
Before she'd even met more than their house elf, Pansy already knew she liked it here. She liked this house with its cloud rug and wowing flower arrangements. She liked this family.
A slim, blonde woman stepped forward, her smile big and her eyes kind. She looked younger than Lilith, but not by much. Her attire consisted of a simple dark green dress, the skirt of which fell slightly below her knee. A string of pearls adorned her collarbone, and Pansy spotted a matching set around her wrist. Wow! She's pretty!
"Lilith! So, so pleased you could make it." The woman placed her hands on the sides of Lilith's arms.
"It was kind of you to invite us, Freyja."
The blonde woman, Freyja, turned her attention towards Pansy. "It's a pleasure to meet you Pansy." She sounded well-spoken, yet gentle.
"Thank you." Pansy's voice was small. "It's nice to meet you, too."
Freyja flashed Pansy another smile before back into her lounge, Lilith and Pansy following. Pansy saw Freyja beckon to the far corner of the room and her eyes followed the woman's gaze. A pretty, blonde girl who looked to be around Pansy's age - nine, maybe ten, was standing nearby. Her smile was extremely similar to her mother's, and it was directed towards Pansy as she began to walk across the lounge, towards her mother, Pansy, and Lilith.
"Hi!" she spoke brightly, blonde curls bouncing as she walked. "I'm Daphne!"
"Hufflepuff."
"Hufflepuff!?" Daphne screeched, walloping Pansy in the ribs with a cushion. "Are you KIDDING me, Parkinson?" Laughing, Pansy threw the cushion back, narrowly missing the side of her best friend's head. "Don't be so touchy, badger."
"Pans?" Daphne's voice softened, a line appearing across the forehead of her otherwise perfect face
"Mmmm, what's up?"
"What if we aren't in the same House?" Daphne's gaze had drifted to the window of her bedroom. Pansy looked out, too, and the pair sat in a comfortable, yet very definite silence.
"I don't know," Pansy answered, honestly.
Stepping out of the shower, Pansy stepped towards the porcelain sink situated to her left. Her reflection stared sadly back at her from the small mirror above. Undoing the turban-style towel she'd placed her dark locks up into, Pansy watched her mirror-self as a mass of black strands tumbled down over her face, cascading on top of her shoulders, stopping close to her elbows.
Pansy reached into the cabinet that was located behind the mirror and retrieved a bottle of talcum powder, a muggle product her and Daphne had found by complete chance several years prior.
"This shit leaves my skin so, so, so soft," Daphne exclaimed, relishing as she hugged the bottle to her chest. "You wouldn't believe. Feel me!" she demanded, rotating her body on a sofa of the Slytherin common room and throwing her legs over the combined laps of Blaise and Theo. The boys had shown very little hesitation.
Smiling softly at the memory, Pansy held the bottle of talc close to her nose. She squeezed the bottle, slightly harder than she'd intended, and a giant puff of powder exploded from the pin-sized holes in the cap.
Shit! Oh, bloody hell. It's everywhere.
Pansy regarded the bathroom as she bit her lip and sighed in frustration.
Looks like it's been bloody snowing.
I wish it snowed yesterday.
Pansy's eyes drifted around the sparsely decorated living room, her small hands clutching a handful of birthday cards; cards her mother had insisted she removed from their previous positions, standing on the mantelpiece.
"Your birthday was yesterday, Pansy. There's no reason they should still be on display," Lilith said, matter of factly. Pansy looked at each card in turn, watching colourful dancing '6's doing cartwheels. Another showed a kitten playfully batting a ball of yarn which kept unravelling before reassembling into the shape of a bright pink number six. The just-turned six year old turned her attention, once more, to the large windows. "I love snow mummy. Do you love snow?"
"-and inform Narcissa we will be happy to attend."
"Mu-mmy!" Pansy sank to the floor dramatically, in an attempt to attract Lilith's attention. "Mummy, I need to know. Do you love snow?"
Lilith paused, and the Quick-Quotes Quill poised itself by her left shoulder. "Pansy, Mummy is busy."
"I know, but you said. You said you'd come with me today. It's my favourite place in the whole world. Remember? You said we could go to-morrow, and to-morrow is now to-DAY!" Lilith closed her eyes, her fingertips circling at her temples. Pansy watched, eyes wide and hopeful, mouth open; the picture of expectation. Lilith took several long, deep breaths.
"Look, Pansy, Mummy really doesn't love snow. In fact, I don't even like snow. Wouldn't it be better if we went to your favourite place, to see the sheep-"
"-cows, Mummy, cows."
Lilith nodded. "Yes, of course, cows. We could go in the summer."
"You promise?" Pansy elongated the word, narrowing her eyes as she stared at her mother. Her face was full of suspicion, yet her heart was full of hope.
"Absolutely. Once the summer is here, we will go." Pansy knew her mother's attention was already wavering, her eyes were darting back and forth to the still stationery quill.
"Okay Mummy. Once it smells like summer we can go see the cows." Pansy nodded along with her statement. Once it smells like summer, mummy will see my favourite place. She'll see the cows.
"Yes Pansy, you come to me when it-" Lilith paused, her expression one of slight confusion "-smells like summer, we'll go see your cows."