She blames Draco, really, that self-insert blonde menace. She really ought to teach him a lesson, hit him where it really hurts—his hair, for starters. She imagines all forms of torture she can enact with his most precious possession that sat on on top of his head. Dye it red? A tight perm? The possibilities were endless. Pansy toys with the mug of tea in her hands as she mulled what the fitting punishment was for his betrayal. Honestly, giving her address to her parents. Unforgivable.
"Are you quite satisfied now, Pansy?" Iolanthe Parkinson, her ever absent mother spoke as she stiffly sat at the edges of her bargain armchair, the synthetic fibers probably burning a hole to her ass. Her mother barely touched the tea she had begrudgingly prepared for her upon her arrival to this unannounced visit.
Iolanthe Parkinson was what you would call the quintessential pureblood woman. Perfect in everything—looks, grace, and poise. The social standard, really. She could do just about anything like fold napkins into a fucking swan, or choose the right shade of beige for the occasion—everything, except being a good mother. Pansy had spent most of her life either hating the woman or begging for her approval. She had barely even seen the woman growing up. The Parkinson matriarch busied herself with social gatherings and balls and high teas with friends in higher circles that Pansy was left with the au pair or the house elf for most of her life. In fact, the only time Iolanthe even deigned to pay attention to her was when she became an threat to her public self-image. Such as it was, Pansy knew this visit wasn't because her mother was at all concerned about her and her well-being. This was a visit to do damage control. Iolanthe knew it was only a matter of time before her friends found out that the one and only Parkinson heiress is not only getting a divorce, but also living in muggle London.
"You are to come home this instant, like a proper pureblood lady, and you are to present yourself to suitable suitors," her mother berates her.
Pansy merely drums her mug with her fingers, the cold band on her right ring finger—an ostentatious gold ring with encrusted amethysts that her mother had given her when she graduated from Hogwarts, made tiny clinks as it hit the cheap porcelain. It was the only sound that broke through the awkward, heavy silence that surrounded her at the moment. Her father stood by the window, unmoving, refusing to come in between her mother and her.
Pansy shifts in her seat, "No, mother. I perfectly fine where I am,"
Iolanthe's lips pursed into an even straighter line if that was at all possible, "Have you not brought enough shame to our family? Can you imagine what I had to do? Beg for Maeve and George Pucey's forgiveness for the mess you caused and now this! In a muggle apartment, like some cretin, uneducated witch. I did not raise such a lady!"
"You didn't raise me at all, mother," Pansy shoots her mother a glare, her voice rising ever so slightly, "If anyone is bringing about shame to our family it's you! Adrian Pucey made a fool out of me, out of our family, and you would rather kiss their ass than stand up for your own family that was wronged! Do you know how pathetic you look? Groveling at their feet when they've all but humiliated us?"
"How dare you—" her mother hissed at her, her cheeks slightly tinging with pink, affronted by the biting remarks from her daughter.
"And so fucking what that I live in this muggle apartment!," Pansy was getting heated now. She hadn't seen her parents since she quit her job with her father and this wasn't exactly the kind of conversation she imagined on their reunion, "Look around you Mother! The world is changing! There are more muggle inspired shops than wizarding ones in Diagon Alley for fuck's sake. Society is moving on without you. There's no more place for the old world. And pretty soon, the friends you so willingly stepped on your own daughter to impress will be gone. Then you'll be left with nothing but your sad, pathetic self—"
Iolanthe's hand creates a loud crack at it contacts the skin on Pansy's cheek. The Parkinson heiress has her hand on her cheek in shock, as she stares at her mother. Pansy blinks back her tears as she slowly puts down her mug on the coffee table.
"I'd like you to leave now," she says, her voice soft but firm. She was done. With everything. With Adrian. With the rules of pureblood society bullshit. With her mother who couldn't even care just tiny bit about her. She was done.
"Your mother didn't mean that—" her father spoke for the first time since they had arrived in her flat.
"No, she did," Pansy cuts him off, not taking her eyes of her mother "We're done here mother. Get out of my fucking muggle apartment"
For all of Pansy's 28 years of life, Iolanthe had never once shown remorse for anything she had ever done to Pansy. The neglect, the constant condescension—she was too proud, too vain, too narcissistic to love someone other than herself, even if it was her own daughter. So it wasn't a surprise to Pansy when her mother all but stood up without a backwards glance at her as she disappeared through her fireplace. For a while the only sound that was heard in her apartment was the angry flames that cackled in the fireplace that vanished her witch of a mother. But even that tamed itself and Pansy was left in the silence of her mother's destruction. Her father slowly makes his way towards the fireplace as well, but stops short to speak to her.
"Pansy, I know I have been hard on you, and how I may have been callous with you in the past few months," Her father's voice seemed eerily calm and strained that Pansy could not help but meet his eyes, if anything, to see the expression on his face. She wouldn't have ever guess that regret was what was etched in his eyes, "You're my only daughter. I am terrified all the time for you. If I am harsh it is only because I want to know that you're going to survive even if i'm long gone"
"Are you really making excuses right now?" she crossed her arms, feeling slightly defensive at the unexpected twist
Hadrian Parkinson shakes his head, "No. No, what I'm saying is that, it was wrong of me to push you so hard. The endless private tutors, duelling training, social luncheons—I've robbed you of so much of your freedom, of your chance to become your own person." She had never seen her father so melancholic, it was starting to make her feel uncomfortable. Hadrian Parkinson raked his eyes around her apartment, taking in every last detail of her new home before he laid his eyes on her, "Is this what you really want, Pansy?"
"Yes," Pansy half-whispered, "I want—no, I need to exist here. I owe it to myself. All my life I've been told that my only destiny is to be a wife, to marry into a good pureblood family but. I can't keep waiting for a man to save me. Not even you, father"
Her father regards her for the longest time before he nods, "Then, whatever you have to do now, I will support you."
Pansy blinks up at her father.
"But when the time comes, you have to take your place as the rightful Parkinson heiress, take care of our legacy" Hadrian adds firmly.
"Yes father," Pansy was at a loss for words.
Hadrian Parkinson gives her a nod before turning back towards the fireplace only to be stopped a second time.
"Father," Pansy called him. As soon as Hadrian turns around, Pansy launches herself at him wrapping her arms around him. The tall imposing man that she had been so scared of growing up, the man she was too afraid to show affection towards for fear of breaking formality. She hugs him for the first time since she turned eleven. The emotions welling up inside of her doubled when she felt her father's arms hug her back, "Thank you"
Pansy doesn't know how long she stood there in the middle of the living room after her father was swallowed by the green flames. She also doesn't know how long she had been crying after that either. All she knew was that she felt like a person unburdened, a giant weight off her shoulders of having experienced acceptance and support from her father. Something she had craved all those years she spent trying to prove something of herself to him. She was feeling so good about herself that she almost reconsidered punishing Draco for giving away her location to her parents—almost. Her mother did come and slap her after all.
Pansy floo'd in the Malfoys' for dinner. Daphne and Theo were in town again and wanted to catch up and Draco and Hermione offered to host. Just as well, the Malfoys' always took to hosting dinner every other Saturday night as they couldn't afford to go out with friends, given that Scorpius was a handful at only one. This was usually the only social event they ever got between taking care of a baby and Hermione Granger's outrageous work schedule.
She was the last one to arrive—to no one's surprise. The entire dinner guest list was already seated on the table when she stepped into their living room. Pansy really should not have worn her cream cashmere turtle neck, and her champagne satin skirt through the floo. There was reason most witches and wizards wore black. She had barely time to scourgify and pat herself down when she was pulled into hugs by her old Slytherin friends.
"Hey, Pansy," Draco grins slyly at her.
"Oh fuck off Draco," she greets him evenly as she plops on the empty seat beside Granger. She grabs the wine bottle on the table and pours herself an inappropriate amount in her glass, "You know what you've done,"
"Did you finally resolve your daddy issues?," the blonde smirked at her.
"You're such an asshole," Pansy scowled at him.
"Sorry what's this about now?" Theo asked amused that they were jumping right in the drama.
"Draco decided to sic my parents on me. Lovely surprise really to find them in my living room this morning. Remind me to send you a christmas present early this year." Pansy said wryly as she swallowed half the contents of her glass, the wine burning her throat on the way down.
"Look, let's not point fingers," Draco said with his hands up, "But this was Hermione's idea"
"What—" the Gryffindor witched gaped at Pansy with wide eyes as the Slytherin witch slowly turned her head to glare at her, "But Draco—and Mr. Parkinson. I was only suggesting—!"
"Did Hermione meddle with something again?" Harry Potter said amused as he strolled in the dining room carrying the fussing Scorpius who was trying to grab his glasses. He hands the blonde menace back to Hermione before he did any real damage to his spectacles.
Hermione looked indignant, "Your father came to Draco because he wanted to speak with you and you've been ignoring him. He seemed...regretful about how you two left things. I only suggested that it would be healthy if you did talk to each other,"
"Is that what were calling threatening now?" Draco snorts.
"Draco!"
"You two are unbelievable," Pansy scoffs at them, "And just for that, I'm not telling you what happened."
The whole table groaned at the thought of missing out on what could be an interesting bit of news.
"You're all terrible gossips," Pansy gave all her friends a pointed look.
Daphne grins, "Speaking of gossip, is there anything that you two would like to share with the group?"
She looks at Pansy and Harry meaningfully but was only met with utter confusion. Daphne only rolled her eyes and produced a folded up Daily Prophet from her purse and she flips it open for everyone to see. Right there in front, was a photograph taken of Pansy and Harry a week ago when they were confronted by Adrian Pucey in Diagon Alley. Except the photo had conveniently cropped Adrian and his fiance out and leaving only an image of a concerned Harry with his arm around Pansy drawing circles on her back to comfort her. To the untrained, gullible eye, the photograph indeed looked a little too intimate to not make a big deal out of it.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Pansy moaned miserably as she grabbed the paper from Daphne's hands to take a closer look at the photograph, "Now my hideous outfit of that night is forever immortalized," Pansy looks dejectedly at the jeans and baggy sweater she was wearing.
"You have weird reactions to things," Theo said amusedly to her.
Pansy ignored him and lets her eyes wander towards the printed headlines that jumped out of the page in bold, black letters: Harry Potter and the disgraced divorcee? Possible new love interest for our beloved War Hero.
"Disgraced divorcee?!" Pansy was outraged, "Figures you'd get beloved war hero," she adds saltily at Harry who looked way too smug in his seat.
Draco narrows his eyes at the two, "Why are you two so calm about this? Merlin are you two actually dating?"
"No, but I've had worse things written about me. This is hardly worth getting upset over," Pansy shrugged as she handed the prophet to the boy who lived so he can see what slanderous things were being written about him.
"But you two do spend an ungodly amount of time with each other," Hermione raised her eyebrow at the both of them.
"You mean, as opposed to spending time with Theo and Daphne who are never in London longer than a day or two?" The Slytherin drawls at her two nomadic friends.
"Or spending the day third wheeling you and Malfoy where you just show us pictures of Scorpius the whole time?," Harry chimes in as he took his turn to peruse the Daily Prophet article. It wasn't too damaging or too problematic from what he can see but still, he frowned at how quickly the Daily Prophet was willing to put him on the front page again.
"I feel so attacked right now," Draco scoffed, "Don't you two have other friends?"
"Do you?" Pansy challenged.
"Point taken," the blonde concedes instantly.
Harry sighs and fold the paper back up, "You'd think they'd lose interest in me after all these years"
"You've starved them for too long, Potter," Daphne shrugs, "The sharks at the Daily Prophet must be absolutely starving for War Hero gossip"
"Perfect," the war hero says dryly as he passed the paper back to Daphne.
The witch took back the paper dejectedly and sighed in defeat, "Damn, and I thought this was going to be more interesting"
"Well, I'm sorry my life isn't entertaining enough for you," The Slytherin princess raised an eyebrow at her friend as as she downed the rest of her wine.
"Au contraire, I was merely happy at the thought of you finally dating again," Daphne grins at her, "I mean, when was the last time you even got laid, Pans?"
Pansy's silence was extremely telling as she stared at the former Greengrass witch. This only made Daphne's grin spread ever further across her face.
"Please, let's not talk about Pansy's sex life," Draco made a face, "or lack thereof"
"Oh I'm sorry that I don't have time to fuck other people because I'm constantly getting screwed over by my ex-husband!" Pansy snaps hotly, her cheeks slightly turning pink from the accusation.
There was a collective of cackling (the Slytherins) and choking (Harry) that erupted from the table. The only one unamused was the Gryffindor witch who was bristling in her seat for the inappropriate language that was happening around Scorpius.
"You're all children, honestly," Hermione Granger reprimands the four grown adults currently losing it on her dining table, "If you're all quite done, I'd like us to move on to more important things." She gave her husband a reproachful look. Draco coughed in his hand to compose himself, looking away from his wife. The rest of the table took the blonde Malfoy's lead and made an effort to subdue their errant giggles.
"Speaking of your ex-husband," Hermione continued eyeing everyone evenly, "How's that going, Pansy?"
Pansy internally groaned, "Well we finally signed this afternoon. Finally agreed on how were dividing the assets. I'm given the first saturday of next month to have the Pucey Manor all to myself to collect my half of our things. I also let him keep the business I funded with the condition that he pays 50% of its net worth up front. So yeah, officially divorced, a shallow empty victory,"
"Wait, you funded Pucey's apothecary?" Draco gaped at her.
"Yes," Pansy said tersely as she stabbed the broccoli on her plate quite forcefully.
"Pansy, why?" Hermione looked horrified
"I don't know, because I thought it was going to be a cute little husband and wife success story. Because I was in love and a fucking idiot. In any case, must you salt my wounds, Granger?" Pansy sighed with exasperation, "Can we please talk about something else?"
Hermione winced in her seat but nevertheless switches gears as she brings up the upcoming spring charity ball, "I trust you're all going?"
The Spring Charity Ball was the annual event of the ministry where the 1% of the wizarding world came together for a 'noble' cause. World leaders, dignitaries, the lords and ladies —anyone who's anyone made an appearance. It was the one night where one had the excuse to display their disgusting wealth and power in the guise of doing so for charity. Hermione Granger hated the pretense, but goading rich people into donating and supporting certain causes in hopes to improve their self-image always seemed to be the most effective way to get anyone to help these days. This year the charity was to go towards the British Lycanthrope Society. Hermione had been pushing to get support for the werewolves in their community—to help them gain equal rights in society and possibly funding for further improving wolfsbane. Chiara Lobosca, the infamous silver-furred werewolf who was also bitten by Fenrir Greyback, was rumored to be heading the Society.
"We'll be there if we're in town," Theo informs them. They've been flitting in and out of the country trying to get everything in order before they fully settle back into London.
"Am I allowed to not go?," Pansy says dryly, sure that the Pucey's would be attending.
"No," Draco smirks at her
"Harry, have you given any thoughts about speaking at the event?" Hermione asked carefully. She knew how much Harry hated stepping into the public these days let alone give a speech in front of an audience again. But there was very little sympathy for werewolves these day, and she needed every bit of help she could get. Harry's endorsement could make a significant dent in her campaign.
The war hero looked conflicted, "You know these things make me uncomfortable Hermione, but, I'll do it. I owe it to Remus. And Bill...and Teddy"
"Thanks Harry," Hermione smiled gratefully at her best friend.
"Who's hosting this year anyway?" Pansy inquired as she poured herself another glass. The hosts usually rotated between the sacred 28 families. The pureblood families always grabbed an opportunity to flaunt their expansive manors as well as get into the good graces of the ministry. Adding a notch of goodwill to their family name was never a bad thing after all. There was even a year where her own father hosted the charity ball at their manor.
"Madame Zabini," Draco answers, "Blaise is apparently back in town with his new wife. So I'm guessing we're going to get treated to the classic Zabini fanfare. I wouldn't be surprised if she volunteered to host if only to give her the perfect moment to flaunt her son and his wife."
"Ah, so the prodigal son returns. Merlin, has anyone even seen this woman?" Theo asked, the intrigue had been burning him ever since they bumped into Blaise in Italy.
Draco shrugs, "Couldn't even give you a name if I tried. All his mother said was that they met in Italy about a year ago. Maybe she's Italian?"
"Quick proposal," Pansy raised an eyebrow
"Even quicker wedding," Daphne agreed.
"Well, we'll know soon enough," Theo muses, "Still can't believe that tosser got married"
"Oh fuck," Pansy let the expletive escape from under her breath.
"Agreed," Draco said just as mortified right beside her.
"Yup," Hermione eyes were wide in shock.
They were standing in the ballroom of the Zabini manor having just been gathered for the opening remarks before the event officially kicked off. It had started off quite smoothly up until the point Mrs. Zabini called her son up on the platform where he proceeds to introduce his wife (still a normal order to things) except that his wife turned out to be the long lost Ginevra Weasley (now Zabini). The scattered (and confused) applause should be enough to say how the crowd was taking the news. Anyone in the crowd who has seen the searing Prophet piece about the runaway bride was now stealing glances at the war hero who was standing stiff as a board amongst them.
Pansy, Draco and Hermione slowly turn their head to look at one stony faced Harry Potter who looked like he was barely breathing.
He turned to look at the three of them, "Close your mouths. I'm fine" he said a bit too tightly.
The three exchanged looks with each other but nonetheless turned back towards the podium where Blaise was now inviting the guests to have their fill of wine and hors devours. Soon the crowd was dispersing into smaller groups no doubt still dazed by the bizarre reappearance of the youngest Weasley as well as forming their own intrigue as to if the war hero had known she was going to be here.
"He's all yours," Draco patted Pansy's arm patronizingly as he and Hermione slunk off to greet the Gryffindor witch's fellow ministry co-workers as well as all their honored guests. Hermione had looked conflicted with between tending to her best friend and doing her job for the ministry.
"Go, i'll handle this," she tells at the retreating couple before turning her attention back to the war hero who had not moved an inch since the opening toast was concluded. She carefully walked the few steps towards him and fell in place in front him, "Potter"
"I'm fine," he answered mechanically
"Sure you are," Pansy sounded surprisingly sincere, "But you're not breathing,"
"What?" He blinks at her.
"Breathe, Potter," She demonstrates with her own breath until Harry starting breathing with her in rhythm. The war hero closed his eyes to concentrate and calm his nerves. When he opens his eyes again, Pansy was waiting patiently for him to collect himself.
"I"m freaking out," Harry said in an even voice.
"Oh, okay. Let's get you a drink Potter—"
"No, Parkinson you don't understand," Harry grips her wrist, his eyes looked desperately at her, "Please get me out of there" he says a with a little more emphasis as he punched his words. His breath was getting more jagged and uneven by the second, his hands were starting to shake.
"Oh. Oh!," Pansy whispered furiously under her breath, "Okay, okay. Uh...lets go," She leads him towards the double doors that led out to the Zabini gardens. She waved and smiled at all the people she passed by, trying her hardest not to raise suspicion. As soon as they stepped outside Harry all but crumpled on the steps to the garden. His breathing had become more erratic as if he had trouble breathing and his head is buried in his hands.
"Potter, I need you to tell me what to do. I have no idea what's happening and you're really starting to scare me," Pansy said frantically as she knelt down beside him.
"...panic attack," he says in between breaths.
"Okay...okay," Pansy says trying to calm herself, "I have no idea what the fuck that is, Potter!" Harry gives her a pained look in between gasps of breath.
"Pansy!...just...sit!," The war hero instructs her so she sinks to space right next to him. She winces as she watches the war hero struggle with his breathing. He was sobbing now in between panicked breaths. She may not know anything about panic attacks but she did know a thing or two about tears and feeling generally shitty. She presses herself closer to his side and she brings her hand flat agains his back. She runs her hand up and down his back.
"Just breathe, Potter," She softly tells him, "Nice even breaths," She feels him struggle and shiver against her. For a while everything stood still and aside from Potter's breathing and sobs, the night was eerily quiet around them. Pansy didn't know how long they had been sitting there but when Harry finally calmed down enough to sit up, her leg had fallen asleep and her ass had become sore from the pavement.
"Sorry. God that was pathetic," Harry let out a shaky laugh as he stared off into the distance. There were still tears in his eyes and the tip of nose had turned slightly pink. Pansy smiled at him and shook her head to tell him that it was nothing to be ashamed of. She removed her hand from his back, but still kept her close distance to his side. He glances at her and returns the smile, "Thanks, Parkinson"
Pansy merely shrugs, "I guess we're even now. We've both made a fool out of ourselves and cried in front of each other,"
Harry barks out a laugh, "Yeah, I guess were even now,"
"You going to be okay?" She asks him.
"I will be," he says resignedly, as he straightens his bow tie, "You know, all these years I've filled my head with what I was going to say to her if I ever saw her again. I was so angry and so hurt. I wanted her to hurt for it too. It didn't help that I have not seen her since she left me at the altar. But now, seeing her all happy like that, made me realize that whatever I had to say to her was pointless. She's moved on and left me behind all over again. It's weird you know? I haven't thought about her in years, but the sight of her just destroys me"
"So, you still love her after all these years?"
Harry smiled at her sadly, "No, I loved my Ginny. Whoever that was, is stranger to me. A different person, a different woman. The Ginny I knew is gone forever and I finally know that now. It's good that I saw her today. At least I can finally let go of the image I've created for her in my head,"
Pansy didn't say anything but she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be loved the way Harry had loved Weasley. The way he had carried her in his heart all these years despite knowing she was never coming back. There really were people who left scars too deep for someone to bare. It took Harry seven years to finally bury his old love and lay her to rest. Adrian only took six months. Pansy felt like shit.
"I think we should head back before anyone starts looking for us," Harry tells her as he glances behind him, spying on the ongoing ball. He pulls himself to his feet and offers his hand to the Slytherin princess, "I should probably go find Hermione for this asinine speech, but save me a dance will you?," he tells her as he pulls her up on her feet.
"Sure Potter, because there's just sooo many people lining up to dance with an old divorcee like me,"
"Again. You're only 28," he rolls his eyes at her before disappearing through the crowd in search of his bushy haired friend.
The rest of the night would prove to be relatively uneventful. While Harry made his rounds with Hermione to endorse werewolf rights, Pansy decided to do her own form of mingling.
She bumped into former housemates Tracy Davis and Milicent Bulstrode who had nothing to offer but fake pity about her recent divorce. Marcus Flint on the other hand congratulates her on finally getting rid of the tosser.
She comes across Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff if she recalls correctly. She came as one of the delegates for St. Mungos. Aside from the polite hellos Pansy couldn't figure out what else to say to the woman so she moved on.
Then there was also Luna Lovegood (now Scamander) who attended the event with her husband. Still the oddball. The magizoologist couple would of course take high interest in an event like this. Pansy tried (she really did) to remain interested as the former Ravenclaw droned on about nargles, and moon frogs and wrackspurts until Pansy couldn't take it anymore. Thankfully an announcement to gather back towards the podium interrupted them before Pansy could say something she would regret.
Potter appears on the podium soon. He looked calm and put together compared to the mess he had been just half and hour ago when Pansy had taken him out to the gardens. Draco slipped in beside her, "What did you do to him?"
"What do you mean?"
"He seems relaxed...borderline happy even. It's kind of creepy," Draco muttered as the war hero addressed the crowed about werewolf rights
"Ah," Pansy smiles, "I think seeing Weasley today finally let him get closure for himself. He buried her, so to speak,"
Draco shakes his head and mutters under his breath, "It was so bizarre, really. Blaise and Weasley came over to shake hands with Potter and he just stood there calmly nodding along. He didn't seem affected at all by Weasley's presence. She tried to catch his eye a few times but he only regarded her with the same politeness I've seen him extend to the minister. Hermione was on fucking edge the whole time,"
Draco and Pansy pause their conversation to clap for the war hero as he finishes his speech. He is pulled almost immediately for photographs with the ministry. Pansy catches his eye and she raises her glass to him. He only looked back miserably at her as they posed him for another photo.
"Anyway, i'm glad that's fucking over. Hermione was stressing about Potter was stressing me out," Draco runs his hand through his hair in frustration, "Ah fuck, I need to get back,"
He hurriedly waves goodbye to her, his blonde hair disappearing through the crowd, running towards his wife who was craning her neck looking for him. Pansy had barely moved two inches from her spot when she was stopped by the last person she wanted to see.
"Pansy? May I call you, Pansy? We might have gotten on the wrong foot but I would really like if we can start over again. I think we can become great friends," Adrian's plastic fiancé smiled her megawatt smile.
Guinevere Harper, the leggy, modelesque thing that Adrian called his fiancé. Pansy looked her up of course. What kind of an ex-wife would she be if she didn't do her due diligence. She was a beauxbaton graduate, just a year under Pansy. She excelled in charms and little else. Her father had invented Harper Quills, the self-inking quill (which Granger tells his is just an overpriced rip-off of the muggle ballpoint pen), fit for the modern century. Needless to say she was wealthy in her own right, new money, but wealthy enough to catch Adrian's eye.
"I don't really see that happening for us"
"Well why not?" This bitch really was determined to play the idiot.
"Because you're fucking my ex-husband, Guinevere!" Pansy snaps at the woman, "Let's just skip the pretension and just tell me what you want Harper"
The shift in the woman was almost instantaneous. Pansy couldn't help but admire the talented little actress. Guinevere Harper shifted to a more defensive stance as she regarded the Slytherin princess a little more coolly, "Look, I know you and Ade finally came into an agreement about the divorce and that you have a scheduled visit to the manor to take all of your things. I'm here to tell you that you have no right to take those. Ade provided those to you out of his generosity and hard work, it's not fair that you should walk away with what rightly belongs to him,"
Pansy blinks at the woman before she starts laughing, "Is that what he told you? Let me make something perfectly clear. The Pucey's have nothing to their name other than the few properties they own. Adrian has never provided me anything aside from an occasional trinket here and there and a place to live--which by the way, is owned by his parents. The businesses and shops he brags about? I funded those, honey. I gave him his start. I filled his manor. I put worth in his name. So don't come here and lecture me about what's rightfully his. Now fuck off to your broke ass fiancé before I decide to take more than his furniture,"
Pansy doesn't wait for the woman to react, the indignant expression on her face was more than enough confirmation that she achieved the desired effect. Pansy storms off and makes a beeline toward the spread of cheeses. She stuffs her mouth with a good amount of gouda in hopes of squashing out an internal scream bubbling inside her. This divorce was making her angrier by the day, not towards adrian, but to herself. The more she gets confronted by the realities of her marriage, the more she realizes how much of herself she buried to fit in the small spaces Adrian had for her. She was better, smarter, wealthier than he was. Why on earth did she allow herself to become so pitiful!
"Ms. Parkinson, whatever you're looking for, it won't be found in that cheese platter,"
Pansy chokes on a piece of cheese, "Madame Zabini, I didn't see you there," She awkwardly drops the offending piece of cured dairy on her plate, "I was just..."
"Is that her?" The woman glances at Guinevere Harper who was now reunited with Adrian. His eyes were moving rapidly as she leaned in to whisper to him, probably to tell him of what had transpired between her and Pansy in the past five minutes. When Pansy doesn't reply the woman turns her attention to her, "A little advise Ms. Parkinson,"
"Of course, madame Zabini,"
"Stand tall, Pansy Parkinson. Never allow those beneath you to knock your crown off. These fools think they have power over us. That they've won against us. But we both know that we are smarter and more cunning and more dangerous than them. We may appear to be losing now, but we always win in the end," the lady smiles at her knowingly.
Pansy stares at the woman in awe. Blaise's mother had always been the unconventional pureblood woman. Her power seemed to stem from not giving a fuck if a man spoke for her or not. She was always in control of herself and took whatever she wanted despite of 'the rules'.
"Madame Zabini, may I ask you something and I hope you don't get offended,"
The Zabini matriarch only nods in reply.
"Did you really kill all your ex-husbands?" Pansy asks flatly, curious about the legend behind Blaise's mother.
"Ah, a lady never kiss and tells, Ms. Parkinson," she smiles indulgently at Pansy before excusing herself and disappearing towards the other matriarchs.
Pansy shakes her head in bemusement at the enigma that was Madame Zabini. She both feared and admired the woman.
"What's so funny," the war hero, slightly ruffled from the swarm of admirers and photographers, appeared beside her.
"Nothing," Pansy casually deflected, "You ready for that dance? I've squeezed you in between eating this plate of cheese and chugging the rest of the contents of the bar. ,"
"How gracious of you," Harry rolls his eyes at her as he extends his arm for her to take, "Let's go before someone forces me to reminisce about the war again,"
"That bad?"
"Not at all, I love talking about my dead friends and family," Harry said dryly as they edged closer towards the dance floor. Harry places a hand on her waist and they were off with the waltz, "How has your night been?"
"Eh," Pansy said non-committedly, "Average. Except for Adrian's fiancé accusing me of stealing from him and Madame Zabini practically advising me to kill my ex-husband, nothing out of the ordinary. You?"
"What," Harry narrows his eyes at her, "You're not seriously thinking of killing Pucey right?"
"Of course not. How would that even work--disposing of the body alone is such an inconvenience...I'm kidding, Potter!," Pansy laughs at the horrified look on his face, "Besides, I'm too pretty to be in Azkaban. Where would I get my gourmet cheeses and designer robes?"
"I'm glad you have your priorities in order"
"Now, tell me how your night was,"
"Better now that I don't have to answer tedious questions about post-war quotes or what's next for Harry Potter or what's in store for defense against the dark arts next semester,"
Pansy snorts, "Why would they ask you about DADA?"
"Because...I'm the defense against the dark arts professor?"
"When did that happen?"
"Oh I don't know, three years ago?"
"Where was I when that happened?" Pansy gaped at him in confusion. Potter being the new defense against the dark arts professor seemed like something she should know.
Harry gave her a look of exasperation, "Somewhere being a terrible friend, not giving two shits about me apparently,"
"That...actually checks out," Pansy nodded solemnly, "Oh come on, Potter. You can't take that against me. We haven't been friends for that long"
"We have literally been friends for a year now,"
"So what. Did you expect a fucking award?," Pansy makes a face at him.
Harry grins at her, "Now you're just being needlessly argumentative."
Pansy narrows her eyes at him, "What is this?"
"What's what?"
"This weird, happy, giddy thing going on with you right now. I don't like it,"
"You don't like it when I'm...happy?," he says slowly, an eyebrow raised at her.
"Potter, you know our friendship is based on mutual misery. It's called trauma bonding--or at least that's how Granger described our sudden friendship," Pansy explains to him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Now we'll have nothing in common to talk about"
"Parkinson, you need therapy," Harry laughs at her.
"Shut up, Potter. This is no laughing matter," Pansy failed horrendously in trying to keep a straight face. This only makes Harry laugh harder. Then without warning the war hero envelopes her in a hug. A huge one where he all but buries her against his body. She could still feel him shaking from laughter.
"Uhhh what are you doing?" Pansy looked awkward with her hands on her sides like a confused lobster, not knowing what to do with them.
Harry shakes his head, "Nothing just...thank you," the sincerity in his gratitude did not go unnoticed by the Slytherin princess. She tentatively pats Harry's back in an attempt to return the affection.
"You're...welcome? Er, for what exactly?"
"Just...," then he shrugs not really finishing his sentence as if that answered anything, not letting her go either.
"Right. Well, as great as this has been, people are starting to stare, Potter." Pansy eyes the curious guests now craning their necks towards them.
"Right," Harry laughs as he lets her go the grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing serving tray. He hands one to her, "A toast"
"To what?"
"How about to werewolves" Harry shrugs
"What about to you finally becoming less of hermit and coming out?" Pansy grins at him
"Or you finally getting over your father issues?" Harry suggests evenly
"Or finally getting closure over an ex?" Pansy counters
"Or to officially being divorced?" Harry matches her sentiment
"Don't toast me on that yet, Potter. I still have much to do," she smiles meaningfully
Harry rolls his eyes at her, "Fine, to friendship then"
Pansy makes a face at him.
"Hear me out. Considering this is me and you were talking about, i'd say that's something short of miraculous. I mean, look at us," he grins at her.
Pansy laughs and shakes her head. Gryffindors were always too sentimental about things. She raised her glass, "Who knew?"