-=- Age 10 -=-
“Now, dear, you saw the little blond boy clearly, didn’t you?” Pansy’s mother fussed with the dark-haired little girl’s curls.
“Yes, Mummy,” Pansy responded obediently.
How could she have missed him, with his hair like corn silk and a smirk that mirrored the tall blond man standing next to him? She knew that smile well, for it was on the man that visited her father late at night when everyone else was sleeping.
“I want you to become friends with that little boy next year. Ask the hat to be sorted wherever he is.” Pansy’s mother eyed her critically before giving the little girl’s robes a final pat of satisfaction.
“Isn’t the hat supposed to put me where I’m supposed to be?” Pansy was confused. She was sure that was how it worked.
“Not this time.” Pansy’s mother liked at her grimly, her mouth firmly set in a firm, tight line.
-=- Age 11 -=-
Slytherin. The little girl thought with all her might.
Sincerely, child, you’d be better off in Ravenclaw. The hat sounded skeptical.
Slytherin. Pansy thought firmly.
As you wish. The hat shifted on her head.
-=-Age 12 -=-
Pansy watched Draco cross the common room to her, his nearly white hair briefly changing color to bright green as he passed under a beam of light coming in from a stained glass panel set high in the wall.
He really was quite good looking, she had to admit to herself.
Quite luckily, they had been assigned to pair up in Charms class and he was a complete failure where she excelled. He now met with her every Wednesday and Friday nights to practice and he was grateful for his marked improvement.
She had owled her mother at once and her father had sent her a box of chocolate frogs the very next day to share with her new friend.
Pansy herself didn’t care for them, but apparently they were a favorite of the Malfoy boy. She liked her food stationary, thank you very much.
“You ready?” Pansy asked him as she handed him a chocolate frog the way her mother had taught her.
Like it’s natural to be handing him things he adores. Make sure you brush hands like this…
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Draco said, taking a deep breath and raising his eyebrows.
“Don’t think like that,” Pansy chided him. “You’re just so nervous your hands are always shaking. Once you get the movements down smoothly the rest will be cake.”
“You really think so?” Draco asked her skeptically.
“I know so.” She smiled as she watched his shoulders relax. She didn’t know what it meant, but she knew it was something her mother would want to hear about.
-=- Age 13 -=-
Pansy watched as Draco stalked into the common room, his face twisted into a sneer and his henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, trotting after him like two inbred bulldogs.
It looked as if the search for the hidden chamber has failed again. She shrunk back into the large leather chair, hoping Draco didn’t see her.
She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, in the off chance he did spot her, and mentally went over her last letter from her parents.
If he is in a foul mood, speak only of his favorite things. Always agree with him, unless his temper compromises the stability of his social standing. Caution lightly, but take care not to nag. Remember, his causes are your causes as well.
She felt her lip curl and she sighed deeply, trying to relax. It could be worse. The only things Draco really excelled at, and therefore the only things he was interested in, were potions and Quidditch. She was quite adept at those subjects on her own and could hold his interest while parroting his views.
She didn’t expect him to be interested in any of the things she was, but she longed for the moment he picked up a new hobby.
He had tried to kiss her, at least. It was on the cheek, but it had delighted her mother to no end. They had sent her a box of chocolate frogs the next day.
She found she didn’t mind this so much anymore since Draco thought it was cute the way she jinxed them as soon as they popped out of the small paper packet.
She was rather annoyed that he didn’t include her in his adventuring in the bowels of the castle, but her mother had scoffed at her complaints, insisting that he was just concerned for her safety and that was a good sign. That had just made her annoyed with the both of them.
No one ever wanted her to have any fun.
-=- Age 14 -=-
Pansy swirled in front of the full length mirror in the fourth year girls’ dormitory in her brand new pink dress robes.
She hated the color, but her mother had bought her the dress the moment she had heard Draco had asked Pansy to go to the Yule Ball with him and had charmed it to repel spells. Pansy’s mother had sent along a letter telling her this was to prevent any stains, but Pansy knew it was to prevent her from charming the robes her favorite color: orange.
The other girls oohed and aahed at Pansy, as she had when it was the other’s turn to use the mirror, and when Pansy had turned over the mirror to Millicent Bulstrode she found one of her silver sandals, which she had left laying on her bed, had a heel snapped off.
She smiled to herself, knowing her mother would be pleased with the other girls’ jealousy.
Pansy pulled her wand out and preformed a simple repairing charm to her sandal before testing it for hexes. It wouldn’t do to be breaking out into a jig periodically because someone tried to play her for a fool, but to her amazement, the broken heel was all that had been done.
She had finished dressing and Draco had met her in the common room. He had paused in his conversation long enough to bow to her and kiss her hand before going back to his conversation with Goyle about how to get closer to Krum.
Pansy smirked at the other girls as they filed past her and out of the common room.
It didn’t matter whether Draco paid her any attention or not, the point was he wasn’t paying any attention to any other girls and she was being seen on his arm. Soon the whole school would be seeing them together as a couple and the social seed would be planted.
To her astonishment, when they got down to the Great Hall he had proven to be a perfect social gentleman, dancing with her without prodding and getting her refreshments at regular intervals. He had even asked her about her latest charms project and had feigned the appropriate amount of interest.
She had looked at him differently that night and had taken a turn with him in the gardens. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again and she felt a bit hurt, but at the end of the evening he had grazed his lips on the back of her knuckles and she had slept well after writing a letter for her mother to pick apart.
-=- Age 15 -=-
Pansy strutted through the halls of Hogwarts, a prefects badge on her robes and an Inquisitorial Squad pin next to it.
Draco was officially her boyfriend, delighting her mother, and, to Pansy’s delight getting her off the hook of trying to seduce him.
Thankfully, Draco was quite happy with having a girlfriend in name only. Their study sessions were still on and they were seen at social gatherings together, but to her relief, he didn’t try to kiss her anymore and he included her in his plans more often than not.
She laughed as she saw a small group of first year Gryffindors scatter as she rounded a corner. For the first time in her life she saw how her mother’s plans had shaped her life.
If she had been a Ravenclaw she’d be scrabbling for scraps like the rest of them, but in Slytherin she had risen to the top and attached herself to a prosperous family that was rising in power every day.
Things were going very well.
-=- Age 16 -=-
Pansy was sitting in a snug compartment with some of the other Slytherins on the way to Hogwarts. Draco had his head reclined in her lap and she was running her fingers through his hair, fighting back the urge to grab it by its roots and rip it out.
Stupid boy! If he kept bragging he’d compromise his station with both normal society and the Death Eaters before his family grew back to the formidable standing it had once had.
She knew he didn’t have the mark yet. They had gone swimming in the lake on his family’s estate just a week ago and she would have noticed if Draco had been branded with the dark mark.
Pansy also knew that people claiming to have more power in the ranks of the Death Eaters than what they actually had never ended well and most likely led to mysterious disappearances and violent ends.
She wouldn’t have her mother’s plans foiled by some silly boy. She’d have to have words with him later. He’d been listening to her a lot more lately, her mother insisted this was a good thing and that he was getting used to her thinking for him, and a gentle caution served up with a bottle of smuggled Firewhisky would probably be enough.
But, GADS! Would she have to remind him of simple things every step of the way, through their whole lives? The idea made her go cold inside.
It was public they were an item and her mother had never been prouder. Her father was so pleased he had let Gringotts know she could sign things to the family account now.
She had started saving bits of money. A Galleon here, a few Knuts there. She didn’t know what for, but she was sure she’d need it at some point.
She had more freedom than she had ever had in her life, all thanks to the nitwit that was reclining with his head in her lap.
The train finally stopped and she felt some relief. She hated being cooped up this long and it had made her short tempered.
-=- Age 17 -=-
Pansy stood in the stone castle, pandemonium having invaded this last bastion of the wizarding world. Those she had cared about had fallen, some were missing, and all around her people were losing their senses.
Potter was to blame for this. If it weren’t for him the Dark Lord would be far away from this place, or at least more interested in ruling it instead of tearing it apart.
Now the blasted scarred freak was just STANDING there, dragging all of them into his little feud.
“But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him! ”
She watched as the heads turned and the wands were pointed at her.
She should have been scared, but all she felt was relief that they’d do her in before the Dark Lord could show his displeasure or her mother could get a hold of her.
After that, it was a blur. She had been escorted from the castle. There was some travelling along a tunnel she hadn’t known about, and then Filch had left the Slytherins at a fork in the path. One way led to Voldemort, the other to Hogsmeade.
Most of the others had already made their choices. Some went to the fight, the others ran, and soon only Pansy and a fourth year Slytherin boy stood at the crossroads.
Pansy looked at the small boy critically. She knew he was going to end up with Voldemort; he was staying behind only to see what she did.
She knew she only had a moment to fix things. She pulled her wand out and pointed it at the boy.
There weren’t many things she was very good at, but memory charms were her specialty.
“There was a cave in,” Pansy said gently as the boys eyes stared blankly forward. “Pansy Parkinson died.”
“That’s too bad,” the boy murmured.
“Yes, it was,” Pansy said, gently turning him towards the hallway leading to the Forbidden Forest. “Now, go tell the others.”
The boy shook his head gently, as if a small insect were buzzing around it and started down the tunnel without looking back.
Pansy counted to one hundred after his footsteps had died out before she used magic to shift some earth and the tunnel began collapsing.
She cast a disillusionment charm on herself and began the walk to Hogsmeade.
The money she had saved would provide for her temporarily. The Dark Lord probably had better things to do than look for her.
She breathed in deeply. She was finally free.