Gemma turns around, her green eyes sparkling. "There she is! Pansy darling, come and say hello to the Malfoys!"
While she tugs at the straps of her dress, which is embroidered with berry-coloured flowers, Pansy checks her reflection again. Now that her hair is supple and shiny after a hundred strokes of the brush, her mother shouldn't have anything to complain about; of course she wants her to look perfect when wearing one of her new dresses at the party.
"Mabel! NO!"
The little cat has become aware of the rustling fabric of her ankle-length, black tulle skirt and tries to slip underneath. Pansy picks her up with a stern look. "I know you're bored, but if there's a scratch on the dress, Mum will kill us both."
She carries Mabel to the satin blanket of her cast-iron bed. "Stay here, maybe I'll find a toy for you."
Next to the window, from which the Ferris wheel and the clock tower of Muggle London can be seen in the distance, there is an antique jewellery armoire. She rummages through the drawers and finds a headband with bright blue Occamy feathers, which she bought on impulse at Twilfitt and Tatting's last summer. She throws it to Mabel, who digs her claws into the bunch of feathers and chews on it.
Just as she's about to close the last drawer, the small cardboard box, that has slipped forwards, catches her eye. She hesitates a moment before she takes it out and removes the lid. Inside, there is a single photography. It shows a five-year-old Pansy in a sailor dress that she couldn't stand, but which her mother found 'so delightful'. She sits in an armchair, shoulders straight, hands folded in her lap. Next to her, in a short sailor suit, stands a boy who looks a little older. If you look closely, you see that he and Pansy have the same eye colour. And the same nose. He leans down to her and whispers something in her ear, whereupon she starts to laugh, climbs up on the armchair and hops on it while he makes faces at the camera. A moment later, both return to their boring position.
Pansy smiles, but suddenly there's a bang behind her and she hastily puts the box away. Then she turns around to the small, hairless creature, wrapped in fabric remnants of a bright yellow curtain. It has big, green googly eyes, a bulbous nose and pointed floppy ears: Tessy, the Parkinsons' house-elf.
Like all elves, she is able to use her magical powers without a wand and just needs to snap her fingers in order to Apparate.
"The wine, Miss, as you requested, Miss," Tessy says in a high-pitched voice and hands Pansy a glass with white-golden contents.
At the Parkinsons', drinking alcohol is just as natural as blowing your nose - even for Pansy. The only condition is that she doesn't act kind of embarrassing.
"You look very pretty, Miss."
Pansy takes one last look in the mirror. As she's standing there with the wine glass in her hand, she feels quite grown up. And likes to suppress the fact that the first sips taste awful every time.
"I know," she says smiling and leaves her room.
The party is already in full swing. The classical music and the muffled voices are getting louder with every step. She walks down the hallway, which, like the rest of the townhouse, is decorated in dark red tones and works of art and antiques that have to impress everyone with an understanding of them (so neither Pansy nor her parents). She descends the winding marble staircase to the salon and stops halfway to get an overview.
There are tall glass vases everywhere, filled with peacock feathers, white orchids and black candles. Surrounded by a string quartet and floating trays of canapés, the numerous, well dressed guests sip on champagne flutes, eyeing each other and faking a laugh.
How much Pansy had missed all of that!
At the foot of the stairs she gets a perfumed hug from her grandmother, and she has to assure her several times, that she likes it in Hogwarts. Gradually, Pansy meets other familiar faces, such as Blaise and Francesca Zabini, who attracts admiring looks from the men and scowls from the women, or Myron Wagtail, who clinks glasses with Pansy to celebrate that she has been sorted into Slytherin.
Myron looks exactly as it befits a rock star: thin and pale, with dark circles under his eyes and flashy clothes. His unknown female companion, whose graduation doesn't seem too long ago, looks absolutely stunning, but stays quiet the whole time. She probably avoids ruining the good impression of her appearance with verbal contributions.
The Duvals from Paris, who went to school with Pansy's mother, have also been invited again. Beaming with joy, Mrs Duval waves her over. "Ah, Pansy, chérie! Just look at her, zat dress!"
"Adorable!" her husband trumpets.
Their pretty daughter Brienne, who is almost a head taller than Pansy, kisses the air next to her cheeks, muah muah!. She raves about Beauxbatons and the violet-blue uniforms being 'très chic', when she suddenly begins whispering, "Blaise is here!"
Pansy rolls her eyes. "So what?"
"He looks so cute, don't you zink?"
"Um, no? We've known him forever!"
"Zen you have no taste."
"But principles,"Pansy says mockingly, searching the room for someone to make fun of. But then she blinks a few times. She didn't expect to see this someone. "Millicent?!"
"Pardon?"
But Pansy keeps staring at her classmate, who is in fact standing there, squeezed into an opulent, puff-sleeved pink something - and talking to Tracey!
"Don't you feel well?" Brienne asks. "You look pale."
The next moment Millicent notices Pansy, and then, as if they hadn't seen each other in years, she runs up to her and falls around her neck, causing half the content of Pansy's wine glass to spill on the floor.
Brienne looks piqued, but Pansy is too shocked to feel ashamed for her classmate.
"Pansy, we're at your home, I can't believe it!"
"Me neither," she replies flatly.
Tracey, who looks around in amazement, mumbles, "Thanks for the invitation."
Now it dawns on Pansy. Her mother ignored her letter and invited her whole class!
Sometimes, Gemma is as thoughtless as she is successful, which is why her "surprises" often backfire. Just like when Pansy got a white horse for her fifth birthday, even though she had explicitly wished for a unicorn. She decided to never speak to her mother again (which she sat through for three hours). Today she knows that her reaction was a little exaggerated, but the point is: if Gemma had listened to her husband, they would have told Pansy that private breeding and keeping of unicorns is officially prohibited. Not only would they have spared their daughter the disappointment, but also saved the horse from a long journey from Vienna and back again.
Millicent's voice goes faster. "Your mother is so nice, she said we can call her Gemma! At first I wanted to ask for an autograph, but then I was like, nonsense, now I know her personally and I'll meet her more often. Oh, and Daphne is so sorry that she couldn't come, but the Greengrasses are visiting relatives."
But Pansy puts her glass onto a floating tray, pulls up her dress and marches off; at the other end of the room she has spotted her mother's dark blonde pageboy haircut, which looks like her own except for the colour. Pansy tells herself not to make a scene, when she stops dead in her tracks.
"No."
She has never seen those two people who are just greeted by her parents, and yet the platinum blond hair immediately reveals their name.
Gemma turns around, her green eyes sparkling. "There she is! Pansy darling, come and say hello to the Malfoys!"
Unable to manage a smile, she steps between her parents.
Of course, the Malfoys have brought their disgusting offspring with them, who looks like a gentleman with his black suit, bow tie and slicked back hair. Nice joke.
"Mum," - what's this crap? - "what a surprise."
"Ah, young Miss Parkinson," says Mr Malfoy, slightly inclining his head.
He is an adult copy of his son; the same hair colour, the same pointed facial features. Not even a blind person could deny this resemblance. However, his grey eyes radiate even more coldness and arrogance. He probably couldn't make a happy face if his life depended on it. His wife seems distant, too, but you just have to look at her. There's something fairy-like about her - thin, with deep blue eyes, flawless, pale skin and long hair falling down her back in soft waves. Quite possible that she's the most beautiful woman present tonight. Gemma can't keep up with her either, even though she's always trying hard, with her two-hour makeup, beauty treatments and never-ending diets.
Mrs Malfoy gives her a little smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Pansy. You look wonderful."
At the sight of Malfoy's face, Pansy has to stifle a laugh. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine," she says with a sweet voice and turns to her husband. "And we all have heard so much about you, Mr Malfoy. Your son talks about you all the time!"
"Not true," Malfoy grumbles, but his father nods with satisfaction. "Well, then you surely know that you can contact me on school matters any time, since I run the Hogwarts Board of Governors."
"Oh, really?"
"But more importantly," says Mrs Malfoy, "I'm confident that you and Draco can resolve your differences and become good friends."
"Is there anything to eat?"
"Draco!"
"I'm hungry!"
"That's not a problem," Edward Parkinson replies, with small laughter lines surrounding his brown eyes. "Who's supposed to feel full from those canapés, right? The kitchen is back there, our house-elf will be happy to prepare something for you."
"Thank you," he says and walks off, ignoring his parents' stern looks.
"I apologise for my son," says Mr Malfoy, but Edward waves his hand dismissively. "You know what kids are like."
"Exactly," says Gemma, "and we're glad that you could make it."
"I guess my friends are already looking for me. It was nice meeting you." Pansy nods politely and goes back to the others.
Meanwhile, Blaise has joined the group of girls and makes Brienne laugh at something.
"Blaise!" Pansy greets him. "Wouldn't you rather keep your mate company?"
He hands her a glass of champagne. "Who do you mean?"
"Malfoy's here. You'll find him in the kitchen, where he's being served by our Tessy." She drinks fast. "Some people just have no decency."
"No, stay here!" Brienne says, clinging to Blaise's arm. "You still didn't tell what happened wiz ze troll!"
Tracey looks at her disparagingly.
"Where is Ted?" Millicent asks, grabbing two pieces of caviar from a floating tray.
Pansy shrugs. "Let's just hope that Malfoy's gorillas don't show up."
"Crabbe and Goyle? Hardly," says Blaise. "Their families seem pretty weird, the Goyles in particular. I mean, Greg's father named his dog Grindelwald."
Brienne laughs like a goat and tosses her hair.
Pansy keeps drinking; the refilling-charmed glasses never get empty. She takes a deep breath. The champagne rushes through her ears and the room starts spinning. She feels like sitting on a slow merry-go-round, and thinks it would be a good idea to tell Millicent, that she looks like a hippo in a ballerina costume. And the Malfoys, that they failed in the upbringing of their son. And her father that she loves him. Instead, she starts giggling. "Guess what's the most hilarious thing Brienne has ever asked me! She wanted to know if Brienne Zabini sounds good!"
Blaise looks questioningly at her.
"Oops, now it's out - she's got a crush on you!"
"I was just kidding," Brienne murmurs, her face turning vermilion, but Blaise frees himself from her grasp. "I don't care, I don't want anything from you, okay?"
Pansy breaks out in laughter.
Brienne hisses at her, "I'm going to tell your parents you're drunk!"
"Get a hold of yourself," replies Tracey. "You're just offended because Blaise doesn't want you."
Brienne looks at her outraged. "I bet you wouldn't stand up for her any more if you knew her little secret!"
The rushing noise in Pansy's ears disappears, as does her grin. There is one thing the girls don't know about, but Brienne can't possibly mean it. Because they don't talk about it. Ever.
"Secret?" Millicent asks.
Brienne crosses her arms. "So, do you want me to tell your friends?"
"Don't" Blaise hisses, but she goes on, smiling, "It's Pansy's fault zat her brother is dead."
In this second, the world stops. Everything around Pansy freezes, and she feels cold and nausea rising in her.
Blaise says something, but she doesn't hear it. She gives him her glass, turns around and makes her way through the salon. She ignores the hands waving to her and laying on her shoulders; she has the urgent need to get some fresh air.
How could Brienne do this to her?
She leaves the crowd behind and enters the hallway leading to the kitchen, the buttery and the winter garden, which also serves as the dining room. Outside, in the small rose garden, she will sob to herself and hope to simply vanish into thin air.
She opens the door to the winter garden, but to her surprise, not only the candles are burning in the chandelier, someone is sitting at the head of the long table as well. Draco Malfoy remains seated as a matter of course, with his feet on the table and a half-full tray of chocolate fairy cakes on his lap.
Change of plan.
Pansy swallows her tears, walks up to him and snatches the tray with a jerk. "Go away."
Snorting contemptuously, he gets up and leaves, while Pansy plops down and begins to eat the delicious dessert as if in trance.
When Malfoy has almost reached the door, he says, "You look puffy, midget. Didn't think you could be any uglier."
That was too much. Furiously, Pansy jumps up, takes one of the fairy cakes and hurls it in his direction.
Direct hit!
Malfoy grabs the back of his head, staring at the brown creamy filling on his hand. Then he turns around scowling - and rushes up to her.
"TESSY!" she squeaks startled.
The house-elf appears at her side immediately.
"Leg-locker Curse! Hurry!"
Confused, Tessys looks at Malfoy, who has stopped. "Don't you dare, you worthless creature!" he snaps, but she already points a finger at him. "Locomotor Mortis!"
All of a sudden, his legs snap together and he hits the ground.
"HEY! LET ME GO RIGHT NOW!"
Pansy turns to Tessy. "Don't say a word to anyone."
"Yes, Miss," the elf says with faithful eyes.
"How long does the curse last?"
"Until Tessy will lift it, Miss."
"Good. You can go now."
As it befits a house-elf, Tessy doesn't ask questions. She just nods and Disapparates.
"That's it! You're finished, Parkinson, and your stupid elf too!"
But Pansy ignores him, sits down again and shovels one cake after another into her mouth. Chocolate makes everything a bit easier, even the worst memories.
Andrew liked caramel better …
In the next instant, the door is opened. "So here you are," says Tracey.
"We were looking for you," Millicent adds.
"That's just great," Malfoy snaps. "I am down here, by the way! Her elf put a curse on me, and now my legs stick together!"
Apart from a slightly confused look, the girls don't react to him and sit with Pansy. Only Blaise stops in front of him with a grin, but makes no move to help him up. "Couldn't keep your mouth shut again?"
"Zabini, that lunatic threw the chocolate cakes at me and then captured me. I can't help it if she's out of her mind! And now go get my parents!"
"Sorry, but it's not about you right now, so stop whining."
Malfoy, while cursing and trying to get on his feet, stares after Blaise, who leans against the table next to Pansy. "I told Brienne to apologise to you, but she refused."
"Then he called her a stupid bitch and she went to her parents, crying," Millicent explains and reaches for the second last cake, but lowers her hand as she meets Pansy's glare.
"Will you tell us about your brother?" asks Tracey in an unusually gentle tone.
"You heard what Brienne said," Pansy replies weakly. "He is dead because of me."
Blaise sighs. "That's nonsense, and you know it. If anything, it was Andrew's own fault, and that of the neighbour's boy for giving him his broom. And like I said, Brienne is a bitch."
"But I was the one telling him to fly as high and as fast as he could!"
"But he knew it wasn't a toy broomstick. He was already eight, after all."
"And I knew he would do anything just to impress his little sister."
"Did he … fall off his broom?" Millicent asks.
Pansy clears her throat. "No. He lost control and crashed into an elm with full force. Not a pretty sight, but at least he had no pain. He died instantly. End of story."
Tracey puts a hand on Pansy's arm. "I'm sorry for that. It was not your fault."
"Exactly," Millicent snorts. "Don't let that French chick tell you otherwise!"
"Whatever … they're leaving for France tomorrow anyway."
"Wait a second."
Everyone turns around; Malfoy frowns at her. "Someone says you killed your brother, who had an accident - and you don't want to do anything?"
Pansy crosses her arms. "What do you mean?"
"Not that I care, but if I were you, I'd want to get back at that ʻFrench chick'."
"Oh, really? And how am I supposed to do that?"
He grins. "Surely there's something she'd be embarrassed about if others found out."
Pansy ponders. She remembers that, at her last slumber party, Brienne wet the bed and blamed it on the girl who slept next to her. Only Pansy knew. "There is, indeed."
"Well, then I could give you a tip, as you obviously don't figure it out on your own," he says, pointing at his legs. "But you have to release me first. And I want a new tray with those chocolate things."
She glares at him. "I release you and you get one chocolate thing."
"But a big one."
"Fine," she says, rolling her eyes. "But I do hope your tip isn't lame. Tessy!"
Millicent and Tracey jump when the elf appears with the typical bang.
"Miss?"
"We need more fairy cakes. And drinks."
"Right away, Miss."
"Oh, and once you're here …release Blondie back there."
She does as she is told. After a new batch of desserts, wine and pumpkin juice appears on the table, Tessy frees Malfoy from the curse, whereas he jumps up in relief, doing a few knee bends.
"Now tell me, what do you suggest I do?" Pansy urges.
"It's easy," he says, "you reveal her secret by a Howler that you send to her at school."
"Howler?"
Tracey clasps her hands. "Hey, that's brilliant!"
Pansy thinks so, too, even if she would never admit it. "But I have no idea how to make one."
"They're not that complicated, I can send you an owl with the instruction," says Malfoy. "And you gave me the idea of that Leg-locker Curse. After the holidays, I'm going to try it on the first Gryffindor who comes along."
Everything in Pansy is reluctant to accept help from Draco Malfoy. Then again, the idea of humiliating Brienne in front of all her friends is just too tempting. "Okay,ˮ she replies in a bored tone, "I might give it a try. I guess."