Apologies for the delay in uploading! Currently out the country, and as my writing is somewhat of an illicit activity I've had to resort to typing and posting in shifty backalleys. (Well, not exactly, but you get my point...)
I've written a couple of scenes later on which I'm quite excited about- mostly because they involve my favourite Slytherin rake, and Shocking Christmas Drama. Thanks to everyone who commented- it's really interesting to hear what you like/aren't so fond of.
And without any more ado... IRONBELLY.
Pansy hadn't been in that many life or death situations. Yes, Hogwarts and the war was always coupled with a constant fear of your own demise like an aching pain or a headache you can't quite shake, but it never felt quite so imminent as seeing a vast metallic monstrosity stampede towards you. In the instant she saw the beast in it's hunger and blood-fuelled rage, she turned and fled. There was no standing your ground when death looked at you like that. There was no standing your ground when death had teeth like knives, a body of steel and eyes that boiled red.
It's roar, a mere echo of the grumbles they had heard on the train, filled the mountains. It was a sound that told you to give up, freeze, why bother. Yet she ran. The earth rumbled, and there may have been shouts, but she didn't care. The only thing she had to do was outrun Rolf and then she might be okay.
The problem with that was that Rolf had the advantage of an outdoor life-style and ridiculously long limbs. The Professor pelted ahead of her, his panicked strides easily leaving her behind.
Shit, shit, shit, thought Pansy, trying her best to make her clumsy limbs collect themselves and pound at the ground harder. But it was no use, Rolf continued to outrun her.
There was no cover, just the flat valley ground and her stuck between an ever-encroaching lake and an ever-accelerating dragon.
There was nothing else to do but turn, stare death in the face and scheme.
She stopped, whipped round, caught a glimpse of the angry monstrosity and shut her eyes. Raising her wand she shouted "ACCIO T-TRAIN."
With a shriek and clang the front carriage of the train ripped itself free, shooting through the air. With clumsy speed it collided into the only thing between it and Pansy; the dragon.
However the dragon was at least thrice the size of the escaped compartment, and Pansy lacked the power to make it strike with speed enough to damage. Yet the beast stopped in it's pursuit, turning to rip a chunk from it's iron attacker. Red flames licked at the sapphire train as the Ironbelly furiously disemboweled the engine.
Pansy could do nothing but watch in terror. The dragon must have been twenty yards off. It's muscles undulated gross and gargantuan beneath it's dull grey scales. Two seconds more and she would have been roasted, or eaten, or merely trampled to death. Dimly, she realized this still could be a possibility if she didn't move. Her trembling hands pushed against the grass. Oh, I'm on the floor. How elegant.
Just as she was about to look around for cover, movement caught her eye- and the dragon's. Like a cloud of wasps, the wranglers descended from all angles. Their brooms whipped around the Ironbelly and they sent sparks of harmless yet irritating magic towards the dragon's bulk. Annoyed, the dragon snapped at the passing figures but did not rise into the air to follow. It was far more insulted by the body of the train, and continued to worry and viciously attack the machine with renewed fury.
A gleam of auburn red shone in the cold sunlight as one of the flyers descended in an impossible arc towards her.
No, oh no, thought Pansy getting up to run. "You are not doing that to meeEEEEEEE!"
A rough arm grabbed her around the waist, deposited her on the back of the broom, and the pair whipped off into the air.
"Why are you struggling? Are you okay?" asked Weasley, his short flyaway curls all she could see from her position as she clung on for dear life.
"Firstly, I am not a snitch. Secondly, I have deep distrust of flying things unless I am in control. And thirdly, I really, really, really do not want to go back towards that dragon! Do you understand me, Weasley?"
The maniac laughed. An actual, carefree chuckle like this was the most entertaining escapade ever. "Don't worry. I'm going to drop you, and then Rolf somewhere very safe before I go back to sort this mess out."
Pansy sighed with relief, and unclenched her rigid hold on him slightly. Her eyes scanned the impossible blue around them, the horizon crowned with mountains and the mushroom-shaped lake below them. There was no safe place. At least none she could see.
Perhaps he was taking her to a nice, protected house far away where she could Floo immediately out of here? She'd explain, bribe and blackmail her way across the border somehow. This adventure had quite cured her of any academic ambitions she once had, and she was fully prepared to return to her maudlin life and her scarce, somber friends. They could drink unwisely together while she unrequitedly pined after Draco and moaned about how unfair life was. It would be perfect.
The trouble was they were beginning to descend.
"That was an amazing move with the train, very quick thinking. Looks like you've got a natural intuition with dragons. Not many people realize they're the opposite of flight animals; when scared or hurt or provoked, they'll just turn round and attack. Completely overrides anything else. Though I am honestly so sorry about the whole situation. It's not usually this exciting round here," said Charlie turning his freckled face towards her, his voice fighting against the wind. "And I'm also sorry about what I'm about to do."
Before Pansy had a chance to threaten him with the dire consequences of his actions (i.e. being hung, drawn and quartered), he dropped her with the upmost gentleness (ignoring the nails digging into his arm and the unforgiving glare and creative curses spewing from her mouth) into the lake.
Re-emerging from the icy waters like an enraged sea demon, Pansy continued to hurl insults to the wind. "You bastard! Country bumpkin! You poverty-stricken, carrot-topped, freckly…" She drew herself up with vehemence as best she could and hissed, "Weasley."
His figure, which looked too burly to move with such elegance upon a broom, glided away deaf to all her rage. He dove and plucked the tall figure of Scamander from the ground with hideous ease, returning to drop him in the water beside Pansy.
"Back in a bit!" Charlie yelled, mistaking Pansy's vulgar hand gesture for a friendly wave and returning the favour.
The damp academic bobbed wetly beside Pansy. She glared.
"You're not marking my dissertation are you?" she asked coldly, the icy waters splashing against her chin.
"Er, no?" replied Rolf, not quite sure where to look in order to avoid her piercing gaze.
"Good." She raised her arm and hit him with a wall of freezing water. "YOU SAID I WOULD BE PERFECTLY SAFE."
"Well, you are-"
"YOU SAID I WOULD BE IN THE BEST OF HANDS."
"They are-"
"YOU SAID IT WAS ASLEEP- AND STOP TRYING TO SWIM AWAY FROM ME."
"Miss Parkinson, please," Rolf said raising his hands in defense, causing him to bob under a large wave and splutter. "This is the best dragon sanctuary in Europe. Look! They've even got the Ironbelly almost sorted!"
The pair turned to regard the wizards swooping about the ugly creatures body.
"No, they haven't," she said, her eyes watching with distaste. "They're currently hitting the dragon over the head with the cow carcass. The dragon, however, seems more interested in dismantling your ride home."
"Ah, sorry. My glasses are fogged up. Also, well done with the train. Marvelous piece of magic and ingenuity."
"Don't flatter me. Or change the subject." The train had barely damaged the dragon, her spell craft too weak. It was also hardly a cunning plan, and would have made far more sense to apparate. "I want to change placements."
"I am terribly sorry, Miss Parkinson, but the others are oversubscribed as it is. Perhaps at the six month mark I can do some swapping…"
"One month."
"This is really not a bargaining matter-"
"I would seriously consider changing that view, unless you desperately want to be in constant correspondence with the lawyers of Parkinson, Putrid and Pendragon," Pansy said in her most amiable tone of voice. It was an empty threat. The family law firm had far bigger worries than her placement, no matter how life threatening it was.
Poor Rolf did try and look stalwart, despite the lump of algae dripping from his forehead. "I don't take well to threats-"
"Two months, and I won't flood you with Howlers."
"Three- and you shan't contact me at all, unless it's for academic purposes."
"Deal."
Charlie flew back to the pack of wizards encircling the draconis ferrarius. Kerov and Baldrick were not looking quite as apologetic as they should be, especially judging from the dark glances the other wranglers were shooting them.
"Bahaha," rumbled Baldric, the broom standing up impressively under his weight. "And I thought today was going to be dull. Right, Kerov?"
Kerov spat, looking impassive. Then again, he always looked impassive. The old Russian man with his heavy features seemed to perpetuate an everlasting distaste of the world- though Charlie tended to quite like him. He knew more mythos than anyone Charlie had ever met, and (when he made a rare attempt at being sociable) was a source of dry humour, bizarre anecdotes and homemade vodka.
"Wynne is going to skin you alive," intoned Mona, her Afrikaans accent coming out thicker in anger.
Baldrick shrugged. "Well, it wasn't my fault that the cow wasn't asleep. Scamander Junior over there must have got the Sleeping Draught wrong."
Charlie could see Mona bristling. Merlin, he was going to have fun writing this report up later. And if anything, Wynne was going to skin him. Charlie shook his head. "That doesn't matter right now, we've got to get this girl into the caves. Marcus- how's it going down there?"
Below them, Marcus, Toothpick and Caesar were levitating the cow carcass temptingly around the Ironbelly's head. Sadly, the Ironbelly was having much more fun wreaking violent revenge on the train. Marcus gave him a shrug, and a reassuring smile that was a little too gleeful.
"Remember when Norberta decided to take a day trip to the coast and joined that nice muggle family who were having a picnic? I think we need to deal with it similarly."
"A Mexican Standoff followed by a Kamikaze Slide?"
"Hell yeah."
Charlie sighed, repressing a slight grin. Today hadn't gone as planned- but the chance for another Kamikaze was too good to waste. Plus, the newbie definitely looked like someone who could hold her own around a dragon- perhaps babysitting duty wouldn't be quite so dull after all…
"Everyone hear that?" shouted Charlie. "I'll take point."
"Spoilsport," muttered Marcus. "You always take the fun jobs…"
The wranglers descended in a crescent around the ever-decreasing carcass of the train, which now looked like a strange writhing chimera of dragon and engine. Everyone pointed their wands, chanted the spell, and the train exploded.
Debree flew everywhere. The dragon leapt back in surprise at the destruction of it's loathed toy. It still had a rack of wheels in it's mouth, which it refused to drop. It regarded the offending wizards above. Except they weren't there. Everyone, except a lone, flame-headed figure had drifted off. Pansy, who had just made her way to the edge of the lake, could practically see the arrogance seeping off the Gryffinjock as he bobbed in the air.
The dragon unfurled it's wings, and leapt.
Pansy watched the figure fly. It almost reminded her of Draco and Quidditch- talented, but not quite to the degree of the Potter boy. Charlie shot through the air, turning and diving, the Ironbelly hot on his tail. Yet the dragon was slow in the air- so large it seemed a complete impossibility for it to fly at all. Despite this, Charlie continued to be just out of the dragon's reach. Teasing it ever on and ever faster.
All at once a putrid, scarlet flame licked from the beast's mouth, crimson against the clear sky. Charlie spun in a way that made Pansy feel sick. Beside her, Rolf gasped. But Weasley kept on flying, continually weaving… and generally looking like he was having a perfectly content time having a carnivorous winged dinosaur chase him.
Charlie ducked in, gathering speed, heading straight for the foot of the mountain where the caves were. The Ironbelly flapped it's gargantuan wings, building speed. If he breathed flame now, the poor, freckly Weasley boy would be done for. Instead the dragon gave a victorious roar, extending it's reptilian neck and followed the speeding broom straight into the jaws of the cave.
Pansy saw death once more.
The broom, and the dragon with it, flew into the quarantine caves just as the wranglers appeared to bar the gates and curse it shut. There was no sign of Charlie, just one triumphant snarl.
She screamed. It was meant to be safe. He was in with the dragon. Why would they do this? Why would they lock him in there with the beast?
Sacrifice. Always sacrifice. Why would they leave him in there to die?
She felt long, twiggy hands grabbing her and a voice murmuring words she could not quite understand.
Why was there always death? Why couldn't she escape it? Why did people feel the need to step up and perish?
She shook off the weak figure of the Professor, her clothes dripping wet and her body wracked with shivers. Cursed, she thought. I'm cursed.
Distantly, a gleaming red head stood up at the foot of the caves- bruised, laughing and unhurt. Pansy felt immensely stupid.
Dearest Milly, Theo and Draco,
Your friendship and support over the past few years has been below average to middling, but I have mildly appreciated your presence in my short, embittered life. It is often said the best of us die young; so I thought I should forewarn you that I, as the diamond in the rough of our little group, will most likely be passing through the celestial gates of hell very swiftly.
Yes, if you had not already guessed- I have the dragon placement.
However the dragons are only a secondary unpleasantness compared to the people (this is saying quite a bit especially as in the first forty-five minutes of my stepping off the train, a dragon took wing and tried to eat me). It seems, my friends, that I have gone back in time and am currently living among Vikings. They're manners are strange and unusual. Daily they try to one up each other with tales of infinite daring and stupidity. It is as if they have some how combined the idiocy of Hufflepuff with the bravado of Gryffindor to create some bizarre sub-race of "dragon people" who glory in suicidal chores and comparisons of dragon du-
Pansy crossed out the last phrase. Just because she had to deal with such vulgarity didn't mean they had to as well.
The one upside of living amongst such manly, muscular men is… living among manly, muscular men. I think a fling may be in order to deal with the constant possibility of my fiery demise. I have already scouted out a possibility- he's tall, callously attractive and only speaks German. However, seeing the nature of my current level of conversation partners, not speaking English is really a bonus.
Theo- in terms of your father, I've had a thought. Speak to Atticus Brand. He's a civil rights lawyer. He'll absolutely hate you, your Father and everything you stand for (and will tell you this), but he may be able to negotiate him into a lower security section of Azkaban. He's terribly "moral," but has a labyrinthine mind that knows more legal loopholes that you can shake a stick at. Don't let Draco steal him from you- tell Draco to use Cobweb & Crimson. Firstly, Brand will work for free due to your unique predicament, and secondly, Draco can afford the ludicrous sums of C&C. Keep me posted.
Milly- the wedding dress clippings you left me with were (the word dire was insufficiently scribbled out here) lovely. Please choose the one where the top half looks like you've been mummified and the bottom half looks like it's being attacked by orchids. I'm not even going to pretend it's pretty- but I think you should give me something to giggle at in my penultimate days.
Draco-
Pansy paused. She had put the bit about "manly muscular men" in to sort of make him jealous- not that any of her flings had ever seemed to make any such dent in him. Well, that was a lie. Occasionally they did caused him to bend over cackling, though usually this occurred when Pansy had done away with them and it was alright for their shortcomings to be aired.
What should she say? Please feed my cat? I saw a boy on a broom being chased by a dragon, and it reminded me of you?
Draco- not to worry you, or guilt you into buying me gifts (chocolates, tiaras and packages of money would be accepted though), but I'm here with a Weasley. A Weasley.
Wish you were here instead of I,
Yours soon to be toasted,
P
Pansy didn't bother to mention the research. Her friends weren't interested in it- just as Draco knew she would not listen his rambles on the fascinating clockwork minutia of charmed furniture, and Millicent was well aware that any monologue on the adorable snuffly-thing Theodore does with his nose would be met with a well-aimed hardback to the temple.
She also didn't mention how she was bizarrely enjoying being here. The Carpathian mountains had a stark and lush beauty that appealed to her (though the constant hiking was less her thing). The huts they lived in looked like small castles, with miniature turrets and fortified windows. The main building that held their offices and library was even surrounded by a moat. Something about the design appealed to the megalomaniac princess in Pansy.
Yes, it was mildly annoying that she had to share a room (and a bunk bed- how traumatisingly juvenile) with "Toothpick." And yes, she had to call people ridiculous names like "Toothpick" and "Caesar"… but the people themselves seemed rather pleasant. And they seemed to perceive her as rather heroic after the incident with the train. This was a completely novel experience for Pansy- usually she was the villain of the piece and perfectly happy to be so. Fortunately, she had threatened Scamander thoroughly over the unpleasant emotional incident when she had assumed one of the wranglers had died, so none of them would find out about that. Just because she was called Pansy didn't mean she wanted anyone knowing it reflected any part of her nature.
But the best thing about being here was that none of them knew who she was.
Even the Weasley had no idea. She had made sure to say her name loud and clearly, yet there was absolutely no recognition. Pansy was well aware that if it had been Ginny, Ron or one of the twins she'd be looking forward to months of deadly pranks, murder attempts and barren humour. Perhaps even the occasional "Pureblood/Slytherin scum/git/generic insult." But nothing. The boy, apart from being a danger whore with an unfortunate complexion, was utterly ignorant to her background and allies. When she had accidently retold an anecdote about Draco, his only comment was "That is the coolest name I have ever heard," before continuing to guzzle his dinner.
On the second night, having encountered no more dragons, useless Professors or accusations of being a Deatheater, Pansy was feeling rather content with life. As she was falling asleep to the strange whistling snore of Toothpick, she even naively thought that this placement wasn't going to be so bad after all…