A/N: Thank you to my lovely betas and hope you enjoy!


Title: let the fairy tales lie

Summary: Mother and Father are fighting again, but Pansy really wants someone to read her a bed-side story tonight.

Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Pansy P.

WC: 716

Warning: Language, mentions cheating


Betas: shy-n-great, VanillaAshes, Aya Diefair, DaughteroftheOneTrueKing


"Fine! Go find your tart, then! And give her my best wishes!" Mother screams.

"Maybe I will!" Father shouts right back.

From the top of the staircase, Pansy can hear angry footsteps storm away followed by a loud slam, presumably the front door. The terrible noise it makes echoes throughout the marble entrance and up the stairwell. It's oddly quiet now that Mother and Father have stopped shouting. The only sound beyond the silence is Mother's sniffles.

Pansy's not supposed to be up. It's far, far past her bedtime, but she was waiting for Father to come up. The noise made her creep out of bed and onto the landing, listening to what had been happening. Now, she quietly makes her way down the stairs to go see Mother.

"Mother?" she asks tentatively.

Mother looks up. She's sitting on the chair in the entrance you're not supposed to, the chair that's just there to be pretty. There's a smashed decorative china plate on the floor, one that Pansy's not allowed to use, or even touch. She's barefoot, so she has to carefully tiptoe around the shards.

"Pansy? What are you doing?" Mother says, her tone more sharp than she probably meant it.

"Father said he'd read me a story, but…" she trails off. Father is gone for tonight, she knows. He often is, as a matter of fact, but he had promised that this night he would.

Mother laughs. Pansy doesn't really understand why she's laughing. There's nothing funny going on. Mother is also crying. Her makeup that she spends hours applying in the morning—Pansy loves watching her apply it—is running down her face in ugly black strips.

"Will you—will you read it to me?" she asks.

"Of course, darling. Hop on." Mother wipes her eyes on her sleeve, staining it black, before opening her arms to her.

Pansy hesitates. It's the chair she's not supposed to sit on, and Mother's dress is the one she isn't allowed to touch. But she figures Mother is being genuine, and so she settles on Mother's lap anyway. She's not very big—only four years old—so they both fit on the chair.

"Alright, what's the story you want to read?" Mother asks, stroking her hair.

She gives her the book. The Princess and the Frog. Mother opens it and flicks the pages. This is Pansy's favourite, she's read it over and over again. She knows the story off by heart. She waits impatiently for Mother to start reading, but she's still silent.

"Will you read it, Mother?" she asks anxiously. Mother will never get to the part with Prince Charming if she keeps stalling.

Mother laughs again. Why does she keep doing that? "You know, Pansy, Prince Charming doesn't exist."

Pansy looks up at her inquisitively. What does she mean?

"Sometimes, you think you've found Prince Charming, but once you've kissed him, he becomes a frog," Mother tells her. "You and me, we're not pretty. We'll never find or keep the real Prince Charming."

"You're very pretty, Mother," Pansy says earnestly. It's true. Mother always looks so pretty once she's put all of her makeup on. Sometimes, she even lets Pansy try on the lipstick.

"No, no," Mother gently corrects her. "I'm not."

Pansy frowns.

"Women like you and I have to be mean, not pretty, Pansy, if you want anything in life," Mother says.

"I don't understand." Pansy is thoroughly confused, and a little upset. She's pretty sure Prince Charming exists somewhere, and hopefully she'll find him one day. At least, that's what the story books tell her. Mother is always right, but why is she saying this? This can't be true, can it?

"Of course you don't." Mother sighs. "Come on, I'll read the book."

Ah, that's better. Pansy settles a little deeper in Mother's lap as she begins to read. The familiar words and Mother's perfume slowly lull her to sleep. She's dimly aware of a house-elf coming in to clean up the mess in the entrance, but really, her eyes are closing as Mother rocks her.

She doesn't understand what Mother means, but she's sure it's important. For the moment, she dreams of herself in a pretty dress, in the centre of attention, everyone bowing to her, and a lovely blond Prince Charming by her side.


THC – Round 5 – Slytherin

Class: Potions

Category: Drabble

Prompt: [Character] Pansy Parkinson

WC: 716