Chapter 2
Merlin, why couldn’t Hermione write a bloody thing?
Mione gnawed at her pen. She couldn’t quite seem to get rid of the perfectionism she’d harboured through all her years of school when it came to her own projects; she supposed the war had burnt her out when it came to work ethic, but her passion hadn’t been affected; a frustrating combination. Something inside her couldn’t bear the thought of a life’s work reduced to an awful failure- you never knew if your world would be flipped upside down before you could finish. She gave an exasperated sigh and downed her cup of coffee, plonking it back down on the table by her window seat. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t she just bring herself to scribble down some nonsense and be done with the writing session; the book would take months to finish- obviously she couldn’t have it perfect on the first try.
‘Draco! Are you trying to shatter my fucking eardrums?!’
Hermione startled at the familiar name from the street below and opened the window next to her. It was Parkinson again.
‘Merlin’s balls, how many times have I told you? You don’t need to Shout into the telephone. I can hear you perfectly fine.’ The woman continued.
Hermione let out a shocked laugh and Pansy snapped her head up to look directly at her. Mione blushed and gave a small wave, her stomach doing an odd little flip as Pansy shut the phone and waved back.
‘What the fuck Granger, you didn’t tell me we lived on adjacent fucking streets.’ She called.
Hermione grinned. ‘Looks like we’re not gonna get rid of each other any time soon.’
She shut the window again, trying to wipe the smile from her face, only for the doorbell to ring a few seconds later. Hermione frowned and popped down to the main door.
Pansy was standing outside. ‘You can’t interrupt my call just to leave after two sentences,’ she snorted, ‘at least invite me in for tea. And there i was thinking you were somewhat fucking civilised.’
‘Oh! Erm- of course!’ Hermione said, quickly stepping aside and leading her up to her flat, ‘I’m afraid I don’t have anything interesting, I prefer mine black, but I have some biscuits?’
Parkinson nodded and quirked her lip. ‘That’s alright darling, I’ll just slum it, shall I?
Hermione stuck her chin out towards the taller woman.
~
Pansy had freckles. They were faint, but once Mione first noticed them she couldn’t stop looking. They were a sign that the woman had really lived. It was like she’d never really thought of Parkinson as an actual person, with hopes and dreams and fears; she’d just always been a Slytherin, and Hermione hadn’t ever seen a need to look deeper than that. To be fair though, she thought as Pansy talked about what she’d been up to, the girl had been quite an arse at school. It was incredible how much she’d changed. She’d tried to rat them out to Voldemort and now she lived completely among muggles.
‘So what changed?’ Hermione blurted out, wilting into the sofa a bit but continuing,. ‘I mean, you said you’ve changed earlier- and of course I believe you- but.. what led to it? How did you go from being a pureblood supremacist to living in muggle London?’
Parkinson’s face dropped, and Hermione started to worry she’d overstepped, when the woman spoke. ‘I’m sorry.’ She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then continued, ‘I was a spoilt brat- and when I got older I got worse than that. I was never a Death Eater. But I let it happen. And- well- then there was the whole Battle of Hogwarts thing. I was a coward. After the war I was pretty well remembered for that. There were all sorts of exposés on us purebloods and word of what I did got out. I think even at that point I was having doubts about my parents’ beliefs so when all the stares and whispers really started getting to me I just.. moved. And I didn’t really care that I’d be surrounded by muggles, I just wanted to get away from the wizarding world. And being surrounded by people you were taught to hate 24/7 really does force you to reevaluate those beliefs.’ Pansy composed herself with a sharp intake of breath but kept looking at a spot on the wall.
‘I moved because of stares too.’ Hermione said softly, ‘Of course it wasn’t really the same, but I cut myself off as well. It’s quite freeing in a way, but it gets lonely after a bit.’
Parkinson turned towards her and stared. ‘Have you not got any friends here Granger?’
Hermione frowned, ‘Shut up Parkinson.’
‘Merlin, I’ve got more muggle friends than you haven’t I? You’re a fucking muggleborn! I’m a pureblood!’ She cackled.
Mione threw a pillow at her. ‘Well I’m a little curious as to how that happened.’
Pansy laughed, ‘Well, I will admit most of them started out as regular customers and we got talking from there.’
What. ‘Customers?’
Pansy sniffed. ‘I work at a florist.’
Pansy Parkinson. Florist. Merlin’s pants.
‘Stop looking at me like that. Haven’t I already told you I’ve bloody changed? You should stop by at some point. It’s a new one- about a ten minute walk from here actually. En Fleurs.
‘Oh. I might check it out.’ Hermione managed. The idea of Parkinson working in the service industry was beyond bizarre.