Part Nine:
She was late.
The blue-eyed, black-haired daughter of Narcissa Malfoy and Jasonan Parkinson cursed under her breath and increased her pace as she headed back towards the suite she now shared with her brother and birth mother. Pansy shook her head, nothing she used to describe Narcissa sounded right, out loud or in her head. Calling her mum sounded disrespectful to the woman who had raised her, had died in part to give her the time to be warned. But calling her Narcissa sounded like she was denying the fact that she had risked everything to keep her safe and to be there for her when she could.
She hadn't had to do that. Neither woman had had to spin such an elaborate ruse when it came right down to it. The wizarding world was fairly conservative, but that didn't mean that a witch couldn't quietly take care of an inconvenient pregnancy, especially one that was raised with such an exposure to the Dark Arts. Yet she hadn't taken the easy option, she, and her friends, had drastically altered their lives to make her own life possible.
That was what made it so difficult. Both were mothers to her in as much of a way as they had been able to be. So how could she give them both the honor they deserved without belittling the other? How could she call one mother when doing so implied that the other was something less?
She ran a slender hand through her long hair, a sound of frustration slipping past her lips, her thoughts spinning around her head as they had been doing for days. It was just all so complicated, and the fact that all she wanted to do was ask her father what to do made it all the worse. Thoughts of her dad, locked in Azkaban threatened to overtake her, speeding her pace a little more and making it more than a little startling when she found herself colliding with someone. Only the glance she managed as she started to fall back showed her only empty air in front of her.
She had half a second to feel fear rush through her at the thought that one of the Death Eater trainees in Slytherin had found a way to get at her and the others without being seen. Then a hand was suddenly grasping her arm, just below the shoulder, pulling her back to her feet with enough force to send her tipping forward and onto her invisible assailant-slash-rescuer.
Invisible.
Equal parts relief and anger flared inside Pansy as she fisted her hands in the slippery material that covered the unseen chest before her. She used his moment of distraction as he ensured they were both steady on their feet to yank the cloak from his body. Before the sixth-year was uncovered enough to expose his face to her gaze, she stated her accusation with the acidity of her still flailing emotions.
"Potter." She jerked her arm out of his grasp, balling the cloak in her fists as she stepped back.
He appeared as flustered as she felt, and took a moment to properly bristle at her tone. "Parkinson," he responded, his voice finally steadying on the last syllable. "What are you doing?"
She waited a beat before raising a sardonic brow, smirking ever so slightly as he processed the question he'd asked, and the stupidity of having asked it. She answered anyway, though, somehow enjoying the almost imperceptible blush on his cheeks as she spoke, as if to a particularly dense first-year and gestured with casual arrogance at the door several feet behind him. "I live here. What's your excuse?"
He opened his mouth indignantly, no doubt to give an overly sincere declaration only a Gryffindor would find a suitable reason for skulking invisibly through the halls. She cut him off before he had a chance. "Wait, let me guess, you were spying on Gin, hoping to either corner her and yell some more about how she should let you pick her friends for her, or to find some reason to convince her to let you pick her friends at a later time?"
Harry straightened, his cheeks reddening, though whether it was from embarrassment or anger, she wasn't sure. "I was not spying. And I'm only trying to look out for her, to protect her."
The 'from you' she knew he wanted to tack on the end remained unsaid, so the dark-haired witch said it for him. "Gin doesn't need you to protect her, Potter. Certainly not from us."
She'd meant those last words to be properly scathing, but somehow they had come out sounding almost tired. Pansy gave a mental growl at her uncooperative vocal cords. This was bloody fucking Potter, he deserved scathing, especially considering the trouble she knew he'd been giving her redheaded friend lately. Yet when he had spoken, when he'd pulled himself up almost ramrod straight and clenched his fists at his sides, she hadn't been able to not see the genuine concern that fueled his absurdly Gryffindoric hero-complex. He was a lion to the core, no matter what Ginny said about him almost being sorted into Slytherin, and obviously liked to delude himself with the idea that he automatically knew what was best for the youngest Weasley, but the overblown protectiveness reminded her of someone.
The former snake princess suppressed the smirk that threatened to curl her lips at the thought of telling her dear brother that he actually had something in common with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him. Draco would be less than pleased with the comparison, as would Potter, she was sure, yet it refused to leave her alone as he began to pace in tiny circles in the hallway, practically ranting about how she and Draco were evil Slytherins and would eventually hurt Ginny.
A small portion of her annoyance at the Boy Wonder's overblown and uninformed assumptions and stereotyping of her house warped into amusement at the sight. How many times had she watched her little brother pace and bitch over the years? The slightest of smirks peeked through her mask of irritation and she contemplated just letting him exhaust himself with the wild and somewhat paranoid accusations, but she had the feeling that he probably had enough material stored up to keep him going for longer than her patience could last. So she interrupted him, though her tone lacked a bit of the rancor usually associated with any conversation between her and anyone not Draco, Ginny, or Narcissa.
"Does it bother you at all that you're working entirely off conjecture?" He skidded to a stop at her words, looking almost surprised to see her standing in front of him, arms crossed in a position casual enough to keep her from looking pissed.
"Sure, Draco and I haven't exactly had the most pleasant of interaction with you and yours, and if you were talking about the possibility of a sudden, genuine friendship between us, and say, Granger, you might have some valid points. But you're talking about Ginny. You have no idea how or when we became friends with her, nor do you know the extent or genuineness of that friendship, though what you lot saw when you spied on us should have given even you a clue."
"I guess that means I'm either a lot less observant than you think, or a lot more intelligent."
Her mask cracked at his fervent declaration, something between a condescending smirk and an amused grin spreading across her face. "A lot more intelligent, huh?"
He ignored the sarcasm, simply continuing, picking up steam as he went and not noticing the amusement drain from her face and become replaced with painful rage.
"You think I don't know the implications of having a murdering Death Eater at Hogwarts, what you three could accomplish with an excuse to let her stay here?"
He never saw her raise her wand, only felt his body slam against the wall as she shouted a spell and advanced on him. "You don't know a bloody thing about her!"
The scarred lion struggled futilely against her magical hold, pent up guilt and anger spilling from his lips. "I know enough. I know that if it wasn't for her Sirius would still be alive. She's the one that told Kreacher to tell me he'd left. I'd never have gone to the Ministry if he hadn't told me that, and my godfather would still be alive."
Black strands danced across her shoulders as she shook her head in disgust. "Do you honestly think she had a choice in that? Do you really think that married to Lucius Malfoy, that she had the option to refuse to help the Dark Lord? If you're so bloody intelligent, you'd know what would have happened to her, to Draco, if she hadn't done that."
Pansy trailed off, the rage burning out, her shoulders slumping forward and her eyes growing duller with every second their gazes remained locked. "She may not have been a saint like you, Potter," she spat the name with the last of the strength of her anger, "but she only ever did what she could to keep her family safe. She had no choice in marrying Lucius, but she had every choice in keeping me, in protecting me. Lucius and the others would have done a lot worse than you can imagine if he'd found out her secret. She may not have been a Gryffindor, but she was brave, and she was selfless and she was..."
She trailed off, swallowing hard past the emotion as she silently apologized to the woman that had spent her entire life married to a man she didn't love, and raising a child that wasn't hers. "She is my mother, and you will not speak about her like that in front of me."
She turned sharply on her heel and stalked off down the hall as the first tear fell, but he saw it, and it forced memories of that night before his mind's eye. He remembered the look on her face when Draco had told her Mrs. Parkinson was dead. He remembered the sound of her denials, and her sobs as Draco and Ginny had held her.
He hadn't thought too much about it in the last two weeks, having been so focused on watching and worrying about Ginny that he hadn't even noticed that Pansy had barely left her new rooms since classes had ended before the holiday break. He hadn't really seen how quiet she'd been the few times she'd come with Draco, Ginny, and Narcissa to eat in the Great Hall. But he noticed it now, thought about the fact that this was the first time in two weeks that she'd been alone. And he thought again about what he'd seen that night, what he'd seen just now. He thought about what she'd said, and what she hadn't said.
The thoughts spun around in his head, making it almost impossible to not run after the retreating witch when she finally released the spell and he stumbled forward, away from the wall. "Wait," he yelled out, reaching out and grasping her arm as he caught up with her.
She spun to face him, yanking her arm from his hand as shutters fell in front of her eyes, hiding her expression, though the lone tear track on her pale cheek gave her away. "What?" she snapped with characteristic acidity.
He tripped over his words, taking a step back from the hostile glare. "Are you okay?"
She crossed her arms again, but this time the gesture seemed almost protective. "As if you care."
Harry took his own defensive stance at that. "Hey, you may not be anything resembling my friend," some of the heat left his voice, "but no one should lose a parent, biological or otherwise." He looked down at his feet for a moment before raising his bespectacled gaze to meet hers. "It's hard enough when you never knew them, never knew what you were really missing, but once you know..."
Silence descended on the shadowy dungeon corridor.
"I'm sure... I'm sure she's a good mum. You're lucky to have her."
Ice blue eyes regarded him for several silent moments, her mind digesting what was probably the closest she'd ever get to an apology from the legendary lion.
"Narcis- My mum talked about him after... Sirius would have been a good dad, wouldn't he?"
Their eyes met for a second, both acknowledging the tentative truce they were offering one another. Harry nodded. "Yeah, I think he would have."
The exchange was stilted, but genuine, more or less, and they stood uncertainly before Pansy straightened and spoke matter-of-factly, as if there had never been stringent animosity between them. "You must be hungry."
Not knowing where she was going with that statement, he nodded hesitantly. "A bit."
She nodded back, the gesture sharp, and started off in the direction of the kitchens. "Then let's go."
It took a few moments for him to sort through what had just happened and convince his feet to follow suit, but before too long, the two were being led by several overexcited house elves to a small table in the corner of the kitchens. Once seated it was mere seconds before there was a wide array of snack foods set before them. They tucked in with only slight hesitation as their eyes flicked from the food to their unexpected dinning companion, and back again.
By the time they'd eaten their fill, the silence was both heavier, and more comfortable, and Harry found himself asking the petite snake a rather loaded question.
"Do you think we're responsible?" Green eyes remained steadfastly fixed on his empty plate. "I mean, they died saving us, didn't they?"
Pansy stilled for several seconds. "Draco, Ginny, and my mum would say no." She said no more for a moment, then continued. "But sometimes, I..."
He met her eyes with his own as she trailed off. "Yeah, me too."
End Part Nine
She was late.
The blue-eyed, black-haired daughter of Narcissa Malfoy and Jasonan Parkinson cursed under her breath and increased her pace as she headed back towards the suite she now shared with her brother and birth mother. Pansy shook her head, nothing she used to describe Narcissa sounded right, out loud or in her head. Calling her mum sounded disrespectful to the woman who had raised her, had died in part to give her the time to be warned. But calling her Narcissa sounded like she was denying the fact that she had risked everything to keep her safe and to be there for her when she could.
She hadn't had to do that. Neither woman had had to spin such an elaborate ruse when it came right down to it. The wizarding world was fairly conservative, but that didn't mean that a witch couldn't quietly take care of an inconvenient pregnancy, especially one that was raised with such an exposure to the Dark Arts. Yet she hadn't taken the easy option, she, and her friends, had drastically altered their lives to make her own life possible.
That was what made it so difficult. Both were mothers to her in as much of a way as they had been able to be. So how could she give them both the honor they deserved without belittling the other? How could she call one mother when doing so implied that the other was something less?
She ran a slender hand through her long hair, a sound of frustration slipping past her lips, her thoughts spinning around her head as they had been doing for days. It was just all so complicated, and the fact that all she wanted to do was ask her father what to do made it all the worse. Thoughts of her dad, locked in Azkaban threatened to overtake her, speeding her pace a little more and making it more than a little startling when she found herself colliding with someone. Only the glance she managed as she started to fall back showed her only empty air in front of her.
She had half a second to feel fear rush through her at the thought that one of the Death Eater trainees in Slytherin had found a way to get at her and the others without being seen. Then a hand was suddenly grasping her arm, just below the shoulder, pulling her back to her feet with enough force to send her tipping forward and onto her invisible assailant-slash-rescuer.
Invisible.
Equal parts relief and anger flared inside Pansy as she fisted her hands in the slippery material that covered the unseen chest before her. She used his moment of distraction as he ensured they were both steady on their feet to yank the cloak from his body. Before the sixth-year was uncovered enough to expose his face to her gaze, she stated her accusation with the acidity of her still flailing emotions.
"Potter." She jerked her arm out of his grasp, balling the cloak in her fists as she stepped back.
He appeared as flustered as she felt, and took a moment to properly bristle at her tone. "Parkinson," he responded, his voice finally steadying on the last syllable. "What are you doing?"
She waited a beat before raising a sardonic brow, smirking ever so slightly as he processed the question he'd asked, and the stupidity of having asked it. She answered anyway, though, somehow enjoying the almost imperceptible blush on his cheeks as she spoke, as if to a particularly dense first-year and gestured with casual arrogance at the door several feet behind him. "I live here. What's your excuse?"
He opened his mouth indignantly, no doubt to give an overly sincere declaration only a Gryffindor would find a suitable reason for skulking invisibly through the halls. She cut him off before he had a chance. "Wait, let me guess, you were spying on Gin, hoping to either corner her and yell some more about how she should let you pick her friends for her, or to find some reason to convince her to let you pick her friends at a later time?"
Harry straightened, his cheeks reddening, though whether it was from embarrassment or anger, she wasn't sure. "I was not spying. And I'm only trying to look out for her, to protect her."
The 'from you' she knew he wanted to tack on the end remained unsaid, so the dark-haired witch said it for him. "Gin doesn't need you to protect her, Potter. Certainly not from us."
She'd meant those last words to be properly scathing, but somehow they had come out sounding almost tired. Pansy gave a mental growl at her uncooperative vocal cords. This was bloody fucking Potter, he deserved scathing, especially considering the trouble she knew he'd been giving her redheaded friend lately. Yet when he had spoken, when he'd pulled himself up almost ramrod straight and clenched his fists at his sides, she hadn't been able to not see the genuine concern that fueled his absurdly Gryffindoric hero-complex. He was a lion to the core, no matter what Ginny said about him almost being sorted into Slytherin, and obviously liked to delude himself with the idea that he automatically knew what was best for the youngest Weasley, but the overblown protectiveness reminded her of someone.
The former snake princess suppressed the smirk that threatened to curl her lips at the thought of telling her dear brother that he actually had something in common with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him. Draco would be less than pleased with the comparison, as would Potter, she was sure, yet it refused to leave her alone as he began to pace in tiny circles in the hallway, practically ranting about how she and Draco were evil Slytherins and would eventually hurt Ginny.
A small portion of her annoyance at the Boy Wonder's overblown and uninformed assumptions and stereotyping of her house warped into amusement at the sight. How many times had she watched her little brother pace and bitch over the years? The slightest of smirks peeked through her mask of irritation and she contemplated just letting him exhaust himself with the wild and somewhat paranoid accusations, but she had the feeling that he probably had enough material stored up to keep him going for longer than her patience could last. So she interrupted him, though her tone lacked a bit of the rancor usually associated with any conversation between her and anyone not Draco, Ginny, or Narcissa.
"Does it bother you at all that you're working entirely off conjecture?" He skidded to a stop at her words, looking almost surprised to see her standing in front of him, arms crossed in a position casual enough to keep her from looking pissed.
"Sure, Draco and I haven't exactly had the most pleasant of interaction with you and yours, and if you were talking about the possibility of a sudden, genuine friendship between us, and say, Granger, you might have some valid points. But you're talking about Ginny. You have no idea how or when we became friends with her, nor do you know the extent or genuineness of that friendship, though what you lot saw when you spied on us should have given even you a clue."
"I guess that means I'm either a lot less observant than you think, or a lot more intelligent."
Her mask cracked at his fervent declaration, something between a condescending smirk and an amused grin spreading across her face. "A lot more intelligent, huh?"
He ignored the sarcasm, simply continuing, picking up steam as he went and not noticing the amusement drain from her face and become replaced with painful rage.
"You think I don't know the implications of having a murdering Death Eater at Hogwarts, what you three could accomplish with an excuse to let her stay here?"
He never saw her raise her wand, only felt his body slam against the wall as she shouted a spell and advanced on him. "You don't know a bloody thing about her!"
The scarred lion struggled futilely against her magical hold, pent up guilt and anger spilling from his lips. "I know enough. I know that if it wasn't for her Sirius would still be alive. She's the one that told Kreacher to tell me he'd left. I'd never have gone to the Ministry if he hadn't told me that, and my godfather would still be alive."
Black strands danced across her shoulders as she shook her head in disgust. "Do you honestly think she had a choice in that? Do you really think that married to Lucius Malfoy, that she had the option to refuse to help the Dark Lord? If you're so bloody intelligent, you'd know what would have happened to her, to Draco, if she hadn't done that."
Pansy trailed off, the rage burning out, her shoulders slumping forward and her eyes growing duller with every second their gazes remained locked. "She may not have been a saint like you, Potter," she spat the name with the last of the strength of her anger, "but she only ever did what she could to keep her family safe. She had no choice in marrying Lucius, but she had every choice in keeping me, in protecting me. Lucius and the others would have done a lot worse than you can imagine if he'd found out her secret. She may not have been a Gryffindor, but she was brave, and she was selfless and she was..."
She trailed off, swallowing hard past the emotion as she silently apologized to the woman that had spent her entire life married to a man she didn't love, and raising a child that wasn't hers. "She is my mother, and you will not speak about her like that in front of me."
She turned sharply on her heel and stalked off down the hall as the first tear fell, but he saw it, and it forced memories of that night before his mind's eye. He remembered the look on her face when Draco had told her Mrs. Parkinson was dead. He remembered the sound of her denials, and her sobs as Draco and Ginny had held her.
He hadn't thought too much about it in the last two weeks, having been so focused on watching and worrying about Ginny that he hadn't even noticed that Pansy had barely left her new rooms since classes had ended before the holiday break. He hadn't really seen how quiet she'd been the few times she'd come with Draco, Ginny, and Narcissa to eat in the Great Hall. But he noticed it now, thought about the fact that this was the first time in two weeks that she'd been alone. And he thought again about what he'd seen that night, what he'd seen just now. He thought about what she'd said, and what she hadn't said.
The thoughts spun around in his head, making it almost impossible to not run after the retreating witch when she finally released the spell and he stumbled forward, away from the wall. "Wait," he yelled out, reaching out and grasping her arm as he caught up with her.
She spun to face him, yanking her arm from his hand as shutters fell in front of her eyes, hiding her expression, though the lone tear track on her pale cheek gave her away. "What?" she snapped with characteristic acidity.
He tripped over his words, taking a step back from the hostile glare. "Are you okay?"
She crossed her arms again, but this time the gesture seemed almost protective. "As if you care."
Harry took his own defensive stance at that. "Hey, you may not be anything resembling my friend," some of the heat left his voice, "but no one should lose a parent, biological or otherwise." He looked down at his feet for a moment before raising his bespectacled gaze to meet hers. "It's hard enough when you never knew them, never knew what you were really missing, but once you know..."
Silence descended on the shadowy dungeon corridor.
"I'm sure... I'm sure she's a good mum. You're lucky to have her."
Ice blue eyes regarded him for several silent moments, her mind digesting what was probably the closest she'd ever get to an apology from the legendary lion.
"Narcis- My mum talked about him after... Sirius would have been a good dad, wouldn't he?"
Their eyes met for a second, both acknowledging the tentative truce they were offering one another. Harry nodded. "Yeah, I think he would have."
The exchange was stilted, but genuine, more or less, and they stood uncertainly before Pansy straightened and spoke matter-of-factly, as if there had never been stringent animosity between them. "You must be hungry."
Not knowing where she was going with that statement, he nodded hesitantly. "A bit."
She nodded back, the gesture sharp, and started off in the direction of the kitchens. "Then let's go."
It took a few moments for him to sort through what had just happened and convince his feet to follow suit, but before too long, the two were being led by several overexcited house elves to a small table in the corner of the kitchens. Once seated it was mere seconds before there was a wide array of snack foods set before them. They tucked in with only slight hesitation as their eyes flicked from the food to their unexpected dinning companion, and back again.
By the time they'd eaten their fill, the silence was both heavier, and more comfortable, and Harry found himself asking the petite snake a rather loaded question.
"Do you think we're responsible?" Green eyes remained steadfastly fixed on his empty plate. "I mean, they died saving us, didn't they?"
Pansy stilled for several seconds. "Draco, Ginny, and my mum would say no." She said no more for a moment, then continued. "But sometimes, I..."
He met her eyes with his own as she trailed off. "Yeah, me too."
End Part Nine
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