Chapter Text
Pansy Parkinson awoke like any other day at Hogwarts; exceedingly grumpy. But it was never long before her hair was straightened to hug her jawline, the wings of her eyeliner sharp as can be, and her Hogwarts uniform subtly breaking several dress code violations. Like always, she and Daphne (whose uniform violated the dress code much less subtly than Pansy’s) made their way through the dungeons, musty with morning dew, to the great hall to join the rest of their Slytherin friends for breakfast.
“Late as always Pansy, Daphne,” Draco remarked.
“You know it takes time to look this good,” Pansy replied, sitting next to him and stealing his muffin.
“So, what did we miss?” Daphne asked.
“The usual,” Blaise said nonchalant. Pansy knew full well that “The usual” ment Draco’s massive obsession with golden boy Potter.
Pansy relaxed into her breakfast as Draco eloquently described the newest update to the saga of whatever the hell Draco and Potter were doing. Intense eye-contact, scathing remarks, faces almost touching as they size each other up, a will-they-won’t-they of epic and possibly catastrophic proportions, that was the norm for Draco and Potter. Also, some scheme about the upcoming quidditch game, sabotage, mild to severe cheating, nothing out of the ordinary.
Unfortunately, had the grand idea to invite her in on his scheme, a scheme which she had no interest in, and thus stoutly refused. If it helped Draco get Potters attention in a more productive way, perhaps she would have helped. She has always been a sucker for a good romance. However, this particular scheme involved a fair amount of foul play that was soundly against school rules, and absolutely nothing of benefit, because while sneaking into the Gryffindor locker room and casting itching charms on their Quidditch robes might throw the Gryffindors off their game, Pansy doubted it would do anything to stop Ginny Weasly from tearing the Slytherin team to pieces.
Pansy had been at a Quidditch pitch in northern Wales when she caught a glimpse of Ginny’s iconic red hair in the sky and there she was on a broom, untouchable, quick and bright as the spark off a flint and steel, completely and utterly walloping the beaters that where supposed to be defending her and causing the Keeper to flail uselessly on his broom.
Besides, Draco’s idea of unbearably itchy was a wool sweater without a long sleeve undershirt. Based on those lettered jumpers the Weasley kids always wore around christmas, Pansy did not think itchiness would stop Ginny.
“Oh come on Pans’, I know you care about Quidditch.” Draco begged, Which was partly true. Pansy liked quidditch a lot, loved it even. She was a massive Hollyhead fan. But being involved in Quidditch at Hogwarts in almost any way meant heaps of trouble.
She had made but one exception when she composed the flawless ballad “Weasley is Our King” last year, but that was for a reason that had nothing to do with Quidditch, and had everything to do with her own little Gryffindor obsession.
She refused Drako once more, saying “We all know that this is not about Quidditch.”, which earned a chuckle from Daphne, and a scandalized look from Draco. Blaize was not listening in the slightest, poking at the remains of his beans and toast.
“Ugh,” Draco sulked and in a low tone he said “If you just joined the team, we wouldn’t have to resort to such tactics Pansy,”
That got Pansy’s attention, and Blaise’s, and Daphne’s.
Pansy might have been a closed off person in general, but she didn’t keep much from her closest friends. One of those things she decided not to keep from them was that she was in fact a Seeker, and a good one at that.
Of course, she only ever played in France.
Far away from all of her peers.
Where none of them would ever find out that she played Quidditch.
For the express purpose of no one ever finding out.
Pansy glared at Draco, but he simply rolled his eyes.
“I don’t get what your deal is Pansy, I thought you were over your insecurity thing,”
Pansy was shocked by his gall. “What, you mean the thing where everyone was calling me Pug-Nose-Pansy and said it looked like someone had smashed my face in with a frying pan for two bloody years?”
“That's the thing, yes,” Draco said, seemingly unbothered by Pansy’s anger.
“I’m over the thing , because no one ever talks about it anymore, and do you know why that is? Because I don’t cause trouble, and I don’t get caught in the spotlight.”
“Not in the spotlight? Please, if anything people look at you more now than ever, you sexy, siren eyed, long-legged idiot,”
Confused, Pansy searched his expression for any hint of dishonesty or jesting, but before Pansy’s thoughts could settle, Daphne piped in, “They totally do, I caught Marcus Lockwood looking at your ankles the other day, so eighteenth century,”
“What?”
“When I was trying to convince Padma Patil that you and I weren't hooking up she said that you were so beautiful that she wanted to snog you, she couldn’t believe that I didn’t” said Blaise as if it were nothing.
At this point Pansy’s brain was like radio static.
“Just eat your muffin Pansy,” Draco snickered. “I won’t ask you to play Quidditch again, but I thought it was worth a shot this year,”
With her mind completely occupied by remembering all of the confusing stares that didn’t quite make sense, and the slightly off kilter conversations with random project partners and classmates, Pansy ate her muffin in silence.
When her muffin was eaten and her thoughts only partially digested, all four of them headed off to potions class. Potions class was always… interesting, and not because Pansy was bad at potions. She was actually a decent brewer, but the Gryffindoors never failed to cause chaos.
Daphne, Blaise, Draco and Pansy arrived at the potions classroom perfectly on time and began to set up their cauldrons in their usual spot, the far back corner of the room. Pansy was conversing with Daphne about the newest edition of Witch Weekly , stubbornly ignoring every subtle compliment Daphne gave her and jest at her apparent unawareness, when the Gryffindor Golden-Trio waltzed in and took their seats at the center of the room.
They were as loud as ever, well at least the boys were. Boy Weasley and Potter were talking to each other boisterously, but Granger looked uneasy.
“Eyeing her up again are you Pans?” Daphne said, smirking at her.
Pansy brushed off her comment. She had long ago told Daphne about her strange little obsession with Granger, which Daphne had dubbed a “girl crush”. Pansy preferred to describe her feelings toward Granger as deep resentment for her effortless and soft beauty that Pansy could never hope to emulate, but what did it matter?
Pansy could see Hermione fiddling nervously with one of her chocolatey brown princess curls, making the rest of her hair shimmer in the candlelight. Every once and a while she would close her warm brown eyes, breathe in through her cute button nose, and exhale through soft slightly pouted lips.
“Somethings off with her today,” Pansy said.
“Is it that new pin she’s wearing?” Daphne questioned, gesturing to Grangers robes.
Adorning Granger’s slightly wrinkled, slightly too big robes rested a very bright rainbow colored pin, so bright Pansy wondered if Granger had enchanted the colors to be more vivid than usual. The colors were so distracting in fact, that Pansy almost missed the bold letters printed upon it.
“You’re right Daph, you think she started another movement again?” Pansy said, tilting her head slightly, still looking at Granger, intrigued.
Daphne leaned over their table to get a closer look at Granger’s new pin. “L… G… , you don’t think she’s trying to liberate the leprechauns now do you?” Daphne said, turning back to Pansy.
“Liberate them of what, their gold?” Pansy said.
Daphne started cackling, and Pansy couldn’t help but smile with her. “It's really not that funny Daph”
But while Daphne and Pansy were giggling to themselves, an abundantly upset Hermione Granger was stomping towards them.
“No It really isn’t,” said Hermione, standing in front of Pansy arms crossed. Pansy startled, unsure how Hermione appeared there so fast, but by the looks of her furrowed brows and clenched fists, she was not happy.
“I saw you looking at my pin,” Hermione accused.
“Well yes, is that not the point of you wearing it?” Pansy said. Sometimes Pansy cursed her sharp tongue and quick wit. This was not one of those times, for a beautiful red blush spread from Hermione’s cheeks to the tips of her ears.
Daphne snickered behind her.
Hermione made an angry noise. Pansy found it adorable.
“You were laughing at my pin,”
“Oh we were just trying to decode what your acronym meant, nothing personal really,”
“Well, it means, Le-”
“Leprechauns?” Daphne interrupted. Daphne and Pansy shared a look with each other, and it was suddenly very hard to keep from laughing.
Hermione’s face twisted. While Pansy normally found Hermione’s anger adorable and incredibly funny, this time, Hermione’s hands were trembling and her eyes turned glossy and red.
“If that's some pure-blood slur against the L.G.B.T.Q community-” Hermione said with quiet malice.
“It's not?” Daphne said.
“It better not be,” Hermione said, giving both Pansy and Daphne a final glare before storming back to her seat.
Both Pansy and Daphne shared a guilty glance with each other, looked back at Granger, and began to furiously whisper to each other,
“What in Merlin’s name is the L.B.Q.G community?” said Daphne.
“Hell if I know, is Leprechaun a slur for anything?” said Pansy.
“Definitely not, if it was I would’ve heard it from my Grandfather.”
Behind them, Blaise leaned over his table to talk to them. “Damn Pans, what did you say to her this time? You got Granger’s panties in a bunch, and not in a good way.”
“Blame Daphne, she said something about Leprechauns.”
“Hey!”
Draco leaned over his and Blaise’s table as well, “Whatever you two said, Golden Boy and Weasley are on their way over,”
“Merlin,” Pansy muttered. An aggravated Hermione made her heart jump. An aggravated Weasley and Potter made her want to jump off something very tall.
The four Slytherins braced for the incoming fight, but just as the two Gryffindor boys opened their mouths to begin their tirade, Snape's drawling voice cut through the classroom.
“Potter, Weasley, disrupting class before it has even begun I see. 10 points from Gryffindor. In your seats. Now.” he said.
Pansy smiled.
Weasly clenched his fists as he and Potter trudged back to their seats.
The rest of Potions went as normal. Pansy did most of the work while Daphne prepped ingredients. Seamus Finnigan blew up his cauldron once again, and Longbottom spilled half of his, melting a hole in the stone floor.
Potter and Weaslely’s potion was more horrid than usual, as they spent a bit too much time looking back to glare at Pansy, and not noticing their potion turn a sickening shade of brown.
Snape announced the end of class, and as always, Pansy had gone to the front of the class to turn her passable potion in. On her way back to her seat, Weasley stepped out in front of her. “If you ever insult ‘mione’s identity again, I’ll jinx you to France and back.” Weasely said, pointing an accusatory finger in Pansy’s face.
“Creative Weasley, but I’m afraid I don’t know what insults you’re talking about,” Pansy said, which was the truth, not that Weasley would ever believe her. She hadn’t said anything about Hermione’s muggle parentage since second year.
“Sure you don’t Parkinson ,”
“Whatever you say, Weaslebum.” Pansy said, slipping by him.
“Hey!” Weasley called, but Pansy was already out the door, Daphne close behind.
Daphne and Pansy clicked swiftly through the dungeon hallways in their heeled boots.
“Is it just me or where the Gryffindors more snappy toward us than usual?” said Daphne.
“Merlin, yes. I felt like I was the new Draco.” Pansy said as they began climbing a swirling spiral staircase out of the dungeons.
“You don’t think whatever nerve we hit will keep them coming after us do you?”
“I don’t know, I think they'll forget about it, at least the boys will,” said Pansy as they emerged from the staircase, squinting at the midday sun pouring through large ornate windows.
A couple Hufflepuffs flew by in their yellow quidditch robes, casting shadows in the hallway as they flew by the large, ornate windows.
Pansy found her steps slowing as she watched them clumsily performing maneuvers she could do with ease. She could remember the gust of air off a bludger whizzing above her as she did a sloth-grip roll like the Hufflepuffs were practicing.
The hesitation in her steps was enough for her to lag behind Daphne, and Daphne noticed. Stopping in front of the last window in the hall, she said “You know Pans, you could easily join the team and play. If you show them your record in the french youth league you’d be the Slytherin seeker in a heartbeat.”
Of course breakfast wasn’t enough. But, she humored Daphne, and at the very least tried to explain herself. Besides, she’d be lying if she said Draco’s remarks at breakfast didn’t get her thinking about Quidditch again. “Merlin no. Imagine what everyone will say: ‘Careful Parkinson , wouldn’t wanna break a nail!’ and if I happen to make a good play, they’ll start calling me too manly like they do Girl Weasley. She’s got great shoulders but she looks nothing like a man.”
Daphne sighed, “Yes, well, butthurt boys try to make excuses when they think their precious masculinity has been compromised, but you look positively dreary everytime you see a broomstick. All your frowning is going to give you wrinkles.”
“I’m not doing it Daph, it's not worth the trouble.”
Daphne looked at her incredulously, “You- are an idiot” She said, elbowing Pansy in her side.
“Ow!”
“Dramatic much. Not playing Quidditch when you very easily could is making you sad.”
Pansy avoided Daphne’s accusing eyes and looked out the window. “I’ll make a fool out of myself,”
“I’ve seen you play, remember? You won’t”
“Potter is faster than me on a broom,”
“So is more than half the summer league you play in, yet you're ranked what, second out of 56 seekers?”
Pansy turned away from the window and began walking down the rest of the hall with purpose. For a second, she thought she saw a small shadow tuck into an empty side room.
Not missing a step Daphne followed right after her. “You get gloomier every year you know,”
Pansy kept walking.
“It’s asinine to not play, I mean, you miss Quidditch, the wind in your hair, the yells of fans cheering when you catch the snitch…”
“Nope,”
“Merlin you're stupider than Crabbe and Goyle combined,”
“How am I stupid when I am on my way to Advanced Transfiguration for NEWT Level and Beyond right now?”
“The only reason you're in that class is because you insist it is easier to transfigure things you need instead of I don’t know, bringing them with you?”
“It is!”
“You transfigure a rock into a wine glass and use Aguamenti Minores to fill it instead of just bringing a water flask.”
“A water flask is to heavy,”
“Weightless charm.”
“And bulky,”
“Shrinking charm.”
“Well now your just using the same amount of spells and you have to carry something,”
“A single transfiguration spell is so much more magically straining than both of those charms.”
“Semantics,”
“It is not ‘semantics’ it’s fact, and don’t get me started on you transfiguring your clothes!”
Daphne and Pansy continued their petty debate through multiple corridors and staircases till they finally ended up in the transfiguration courtyard where Daphne bid her goodbye and Pansy slipped into the transfiguration classroom.
She was a bit late as she and Daphne had taken a bit of a scenic detour, but McGonningal wasn’t there yet so it was only Granger who greeted her with a glare. She was never sure if Granger was mad because she was late or because she had shown up at all.
Pansy still remembered the first day of class. Pansy had walked in just as class was starting, and Granger looked at her with a small disbelieving smirk. Pansy could tell that she had thought Pansy had gone to the wrong class by mistake, a blunder that was only really acceptable for first years and terribly embarrassing for everyone else. When McGonnigal had greeted her with a “There you are Parkinson,” Granger’s face shifted into a dazzling look of shock.
Pansy took out her quill and parchment and set them on her usual desk toward the back of the classroom. Normally her seating choice would be perfectly normal except for the fact that there were so few people in the class that there were multiple empty rows of desks between her and where the rest of her classmates sat at the front of the room. Pansy rather liked it that way though. She had all the space she could ever want, and she was so out of sight that none of her classmates ever gave her trouble, or asked for help, or an extra quill, nothing.
A tabby cat strode in the room just as the bells marking the beginning of class began to ring. The cat jumped behind the teacher’s desk at the front of the room and suddenly, Professor Mcgonnigal was standing behind her desk, the cat nowhere to be seen. Not a single person in the room batted an eye.
“Good afternoon class,” Professor McGonnigal said. And every student in the room responded in turn.
“Now, today’s lesson will be especially hard as the spell we are learning will conjure multiple items at once, so I expect you all to pay attention.”
McGonnigal paused her introductory monologue and looked directly at Pansy, “That being said,” McGonnigal continued, “Miss Parkinson, if you would please move to the front row, your talent is wasted in that shadowy corner you hide in.”
At that moment, Pansy Parkinson cringed. Not only was it horribly embarrassing to be moved to the front row, a punishment normally associated with troublemakers, but there was one singular seat available in the front row of the classroom. Right next to Hermione Granger.
Pansy’s chair squealed against the stone floors as she got up, and picking up all her supplies was excruciatingly slow. Pansy had one comfort though, as Granger appeared so displeased at this soon to be arrangement that her fingernails were scraping into the wooden desks.
Pansy wasted no time getting to her new seat, much to the chagrin of her new seatmate who began moving her supplies far away from where Pansy was sitting. Pansy could not tell if this was a courteous action of giving her more space or if Granger thought she was going to steal something, probably the second.
“Don’t you dare say anything about my pin,” Granger whispered to her, leaning ever so slightly toward her so she could hear.
“Oh wouldn’t dream of it. You know Daph and I really don’t have any idea what your new acronym means,” Pansy whispered back, tilting her head toward Granger.
“Sure you don't,”
“That wasn’t a lie,” Pansy said, a hand-width away from Hermione’s ear.
“Uh-huh” Granger said, hiding her face.
Pansy huffed and turned away. There were some battles not worth winning.
McGonnigal appeared completely unfazed at the blatant unease of the students involved in her new and seemingly purposeless seating arrangement, and simply continued with class as usual.
“Today we will be learning the tea set conjuring spell ‘Eatphyesphy’, now the movement is a downward pointed swirl-”
Pansy immediately recognised the spell as one she had spent a week learning last spring for her and Daphne’s picnics. Daphne was unimpressed, as she pointed out that tea sets with shrinking cases were easily purchased at tea shops all around Britain, but Pansy had very much enjoyed not having to bring one and getting to make her own.
With no reason to pay attention to Professor McGonnigal’s instructions, Pansy turned her attention to her new seatmate, only to find that she was staring right at her, which Pansy would normally be able to ignore, except for the fact that Granger was aggressively scribbling comprehensive notes as she did so. Pansy found it mildly impressive if not a little intimidating.
When McGonnigal concluded her lecture, Hermione wasted no time trying the spell.
Pansy watched her do it, and it was incredible. On Granger's second try, two flawless white cups and a kettle appeared under the light of Granger’s wand.
Unfortunately for Pansy, Granger seemed to take her staring as some sort of cry for help because she turned toward Pansy and said “I don’t know how you’re even in this class Parkinson, but just because you're sitting next to me doesn’t mean I’ll help you.” Pansy bit her lip, but Hermione wasn’t done. She looked down at Pansy’s noteless parchment and said “and I’m not giving you my notes.”
As much as Pansy loved to watch Granger's fiery side, she could not let this type of slander slide.
“Bold of you to assume I need your help Granger, It’s just I couldn't help but notice how horrifically bland your tea set is. Though, I suppose it does match its maker.” Pansy said with a smug smile.
Pansy could see Granger’s face twitch. It was mildly adorable. “Bold of you to insult my tea set when you don’t even have one,” she replied, calm and smooth as if Pansy’s jab didn’t phase her.
Well then.
Pansy turned away from Granger and pointed her wand toward the table. She imagined what she wanted. Her mothers tea set, imported from china. Eight cups, a delicate kettle, a pitcher for cream, and a jar for sugar. They had exquisite decoration, beautiful flowers ran across the surfaces of the cups and gold plated accents on the pistils of the flowers.
She cast the spell, a delicate white light emitting from her wand, and from the twirl of her wand spun a beautifully ornate tea set.
Eight cups, a kettle, a jar for sugar, and a pitcher for cream, all exquisitely decorated with green stemmed flowers with cream colored petals.
Perfect.
Pansy looked at her tea set with glee. Hermione however seemed to have a different opinion. Her eyes were darting between Pansy and the tea set like Pansy had grown a second head.
Pansy couldn’t help but smirk at her.
Pansy left the class with a steaming cup of tea and an equally steaming Hermione Granger stomping away from her.
When she told Draco about her little victory later that day, Draco responded with, “Congrats Pansy, you're an even bigger nerd than Granger!” and promptly started to laugh his ass off.