Pansy woke up muzzy, with a headache pounding in her temple. Fucking Daphne and her sweet drinks. Peering out at the grounds from the safety of her bed, she found the day generally unwelcoming. The pleasant heatwave they had been enjoying was evidently over. It was the first of September, gray and humid, and students would be arriving that evening.
Pansy turned over and looked at Stewart, waiting for him to tell her to get up and go for her run. He blinked sleepily at her. Agreed. With a wave of her wand, she shut the curtains against the daylight and went back to sleep.
A few hours later, a hiss near her ear shook her from a dream where she was late for class but couldn't escape Malfoy Manor. She moaned in protest at the feeling of opening her eyes.
"You."
"Good morning ma'am"
"Don't tell me there's someone at the door- I WILL kill you."
"You are not the firsssst to threaten thissss."
Pansy lifted her head, immediately regretting it. "How long have you been doing this job?"
The snake, whom Pansy no longer doubted was in some way female, seemed offended by the question, curling her body around as if to strike. "Ok- I apologize. You look so young, is all." The snake recoiled. "Do you have a name?"
"Circe." The snake said, only Pansy could barely understand it between the plethora of "s" sounds the snake struggled with. "Fuck, really?"
Circe seemed to shrug. Pansy groaned. "If they were going greek, why not just be redundant and go with Medusa?" She shut her eyes again, rolling over.
"Madam."
"Whatttttt" Pansy groaned into her pillow.
"The door, would you like me to tell your vissssitor to return at a later time?"
Pansy sighed with relief. "Gods, yes."
"Assss you wish" Circe began to slither along the wall back to the front door.
"Circe?" Pansy yelled with her eyes shut, "wake me up at noon?"
"Yesssssss misssss."
"Great," Pansy muttered, pulling the pillow over her eyes.
Not nearly long enough later, Circe was hissing at Pansy's ears again.
"It is NOT noon."
"I'm afraid sssso, missssss."
Pansy lay very still, opening her eyes and getting her bearings. A scattering of stress dreams and the night before tumbled together in her memory. "Was someone here before?"
"Yessss, misssss."
"Do you know who it was?"
"Handssssome boy."
Pansy's brain hurt. "The same handsome boy from last time?"
Circe shook back and forth; a "no," Pansy assumed.
It had to be Ram.
"You think they're all handsome, don't you, you little flirt?"
Circe stayed quiet. Pansy chuckled. "Alright, that makes me like you more, I'm not going to lie." She pushed herself up, congratulating herself on being vertically oriented once more. "Did this handsome boy say when he would come back?"
The snake shook again- a no, apparently.
"He left tea and biscuits"
What was it with these men insisting that she eat?
The tea consisted of waxy chopped leaves that she couldn't identify, but it tasted of ginger and lemongrass and settled her stomach, waking her up gently. She left the biscuits on the counter and ran a scathingly hot bath, soaking until the water was nearly cold.
Dressing in her most conservative robes, she mentally prepared herself for the evening and departed for the Great Hall. The Bloody Baron was waiting at the end of her short hallway, his arm out. "Might I have the honor of escorting our new Head to the welcome feast?"
Skeptical of both the Baron and the chill that would run through her arm at his touch, Pansy grimaced her agreement.
"You've accomplished quite a lovely renovation on your classroom, Professor."
"Thank you."
They walked mostly in silence, the layered noises of children growing louder as they approached the great hall. Pansy faltered, just for a moment, imperceptible to anyone who wasn't actively at her side dropping the temperature around her, but the Baron leaned closer to her, making a chill run down her arm.
"Never forget what you represent as head of Slytherin house, professor. What sets us apart? Dignity, poise, tradition. Show them what we do with the power we claim."
Surprised at the pride and comfort in his tone, Pansy stood a little taller, accepting his advice and farewell as he brushed his spectral lips to her hand and floated towards the slowly filling Slytherin table on the far west side of the hall.
The ceiling this evening reflected the gray gloom that had kept her inside all day, but she watched as dusk moved in, navy and violet and deep black against the silvery wisps of clouds. The floating candles, always her favorite part, glowed warm and welcoming.
Walking with confidence towards the head table, her heels clicking quietly, Pansy kept her head tall. But as she approached, she realized her usually impeccable timing had backfired.
The only seat available, two away from the headmistress, was between Thomas and, she cringed, Longbottom. On his other side, Lovegood sat speaking enthusiastically about thestrals to Hagrid on her left.
Of course. If Pansy had known when she took the job that she'd be required to watch those two wannabe Hufflepuffs ooze their naive love affair all over the school, she may have reconsidered.
Seating herself, she turned to speak to Thomas, intent on ignoring Longbottom and his penetrating eyes and irritating sincerity throughout the meal. But Thomas was in a passionate discussion about -what else- quidditch with Flitwick. They seemed to be casting bets on the students who would be chosen for the House teams. Pansy wanted to groan so that they would all be completely aware of how annoying she found them. She wanted a real drink. She really, really just wanted to be back in bed.
Pansy sat primly, adjusting herself and waving her wand underneath the table to change the pumpkin juice in the goblet in front of her to a dry white wine. A woman was allowed her coping mechanisms, after all. She looked ahead, watching the first years finally file in, their little faces tilted up in awe, warily observing the house tables.
…
September 1, 1991
"Parkinson" the scratchy old voice had said in her ear. "You'll do well in Slytherin." She remembered the little thrill she had felt, the relief. "You could fit anywhere, you know. Hard-working, witty, brave if you must be." She had shaken her head, looking towards Daphne and Draco and most of the pureblood kids she had grown up with already seated at the Slytherin table.
"You're sure?"
Aside from family expectations and friends, she liked how it looked on her. Pride, ambition, and resilience, these were the values of a winner. It suited her, Slytherin house. Pansy rolled her shoulders back and sat up a little straighter, her lips curling into a smile.
"Yes."
…
"You didn't run this morning."
Pansy's head turned with surprise to the source of the voice next to her.
Neville was staring determinedly ahead, but she was sure he had addressed her. It irritated her, for some reason. She wanted to reach out and grab his chin, turn it to her, to see those startling eyes she had tried not to think of.
Keeping her voice carefully vain and superior, she feigned apathy. "Miss me, Longbottom?"
His mouth quirked in a silent and unclear answer, his lips thicker than they had any right to be. Tempting now where they had been wet and gawky in childhood.
She felt her thighs press together tightly of their own accord, her body's reaction to him undeniable.
Pansy stared at the cutlery in front of her as Lovegood's laugh reached her ears, an echo of the night before. She schooled her expression to her most imperious. There was no human girl here, she told herself, no weak-willed thing with desires.
"I don't think your girlfriend would like that very much." She reminded him, her voice flat and cool.
Neville spun to face her, his mouth opening as if to speak.
Just then Professor MacGillony stood, calling the room's attention to her and the ancient hat she held.
"If I can have everyone's attention" her voice naturally boomed, "the sorting ceremony will begin."
Placing the hat on its stool, she stepped back, opening the scroll in her hand.
There were three hatstalls- one of the students, Paris Trivers, ended up in Slytherin after nearly six minutes on the stool. All in all, Pansy gained six students- four boys and only two girls. She noticed the other houses gained between eight and ten. Quality, she told herself, not quantity, though she saw how much quieter the applause was for those students sorted into her house.
MacGillony's speech was short and sweet. Inter-house unity and fresh starts. She began to introduce the new staff, working down the table. As Pansy heard her own name and stood, she lowered her eyes slightly, a little humility, just a little. The Slytherins clapped nervously- the rest of the houses were silent. But around her, most of the faculty table clapped with something like genuine appreciation; Potter was the loudest. She glanced at him, the corner of her mouth raising in gratitude towards him.
And then it was over, and the salad and scallops and bowl of lemon slices, after a day of nausea and tea, was incredibly satisfying. She wondered if Neville would speak to her again, but he had turned towards Lovegood and Hagrid, eagerly debating the benefits of pickled mandrake seeds in training thestrals.
Instead, she turned to Dean, and Potter next to him, and provided dry witticisms to their scintillating back and forth about the best new brooms, for once grateful she had retained some of the nonsense Draco had droned on about.
After the children were dismissed and the teachers milled about, she found Ram.
He grinned at her with open schadenfreude. "How are you feeling today?"
Pansy only glared in response. "I made it here, didn't I?"
Ram shamelessly looked her up and down, though Pansy knew she looked modest and certainly not her best. "In all your splendor."
She reached out a hand to his shoulder, war but pointedly casual, should anyone be watching. "You were sweet to stop by today, the tea was lovely."
But Ram only looked at her quizzically. "I wish I had thought to bring you something, but I was in my classroom all morning."
"Oh," Pansy coyly pushed against his chest lightly. "I must be more tired than I thought, I meant walking me home last night. I'm afraid I was in enough of a state that I may have ended up in a dormitory bed if it weren't for you."
Ram's smile was small and polite. "You remained quite the lady, I'm sure you would have been fine by yourself. It was my pleasure."
She reached out again, this time to his forearm, a long nail pale against his navy robes. "Care to repeat it?"
"Gladly."
She felt hazel eyes follow her as she walked out of the Great Hall.
…
When she and Ram reached her sloped hallway, she found a familiar eagle owl hopping impatiently. Pansy approached him gently, but upon finding her he immediately dropped the small package he carried and flew off towards the nearest window, screeching loudly and nearly hitting her with his huge wings. The stupid owl had always hated her.
"Friend of yours?"
"Bosom buddies, can't you tell?"
She held the package closely, some old, aching, private part of her heart telling her not to open something from Draco in front of another man.
"I'd invite you in for a cup of tea but-"
"Early morning for us all." Ram agreed, looking only slightly disappointed.
He turned to leave. "Break a leg tomorrow."
Pansy frowned. "Excuse me?"
Ram placed a comforting- condescending?- hand on her shoulder. "Sorry- muggle saying. It just means good luck."
She grimaced internally, not enjoying being taught something he should know she wouldn't have any reason to know. "Ah. Good luck to you too."
The once smooth conversation was now awkward, Ram turned and left her standing in the hall, keys in her hand and mysterious package in her arms, her mind reeling from the strange, emotional day.
Minutes later, she sat on her rose velvet couch, one hand petting Stewart who had immediately jumped up beside her to remind her ever so unsubtly that her primary job was to worship him, thank you very much.
With a deep breath to prepare herself, she tore open the always nice, always precisely wrapped brown paper she knew so well. Inside, a box, with a note.
A little luck. Not that you need it. -D
She ran her fingers over the quill scratches, soaking in the texture of the thick, rich parchment. Before she could stop herself, she brought it to her nose. Could she smell him on it? His end-of-the-day mix of cologne and man and stale tea? No, of course not.
Inside the box was a necklace. Delicate. Not a diamond, not an heirloom- she knew better than to think it was romantic in any sense of the word. But the man did know her. A tiny vial, no bigger than her pinky nail, dangled from the center of the tiny golden chain. The shining potion within was immediately recognizable.
Felix Felicis.
…
Pansy barely slept, tossing and turning, waking up with worries and ideas and the list of students rolling through her mind throughout the night.
When her wand finally buzzed at its set time, she chose a tight crop top and warm leggings and embraced the muggy chill that hit her as soon as she hit the ground, stretching her hamstrings and quads before beginning slowly.
The lake shimmered with promise this morning. She tried to focus on the way the sunrise reflected itself in the glassy, still water. The castle seemed to preen, proud to be filled with children and life once again. Owls flew in and out of the far tower, packages and letters arriving from anxious parents. She watched a few overly dedicated students, broom in one hand and yawning as they walked down to the pitch for an early workout.
As she approached the greenhouse, she passed the humor-dependant plant with the waxy and belligerent leaves, a strong whiff of lemongrass and spice emanating from its blooms.
Stopped short by the realization, Pansy peered through the glass and saw Neville, already tending to a family of mandrakes, a crisp white button-up rolled to his elbows, and a houndstooth vest framing his biceps.
Neville glanced up, his eyes finding hers from behind his glass sanctuary, and watched her, mouth set in a serious line, his stare boldly thorough and deadly sincere, as he lifted a simple cup and sipped his tea.