Chamber Born

Pansy Parkinson wasn’t particularly good at magic. She wasn’t awful either. With some effort she could get her practicals done to an acceptable level and her teachers rarely had a bad word to say about her. But what Pansy Parkinson was good at was people. Pansy Parkinson understood people in a way that no twelve year old she’d met really did.

For example, she understood that if she played fawning and besotted with Draco, he would like her, her mother would be deliriously happy at the prospect of a potential marriage with a Malfoy, and she would enjoy the protection and status being in their good graces would provide. However, she also understood that that very same fawning behaviour would lose her all respect in the eyes of Draco’s parents, particularly his mother. To them she would always be an airheaded chit—which was ironic as that was exactly what they’d raised. And that was perfect for her. She had no desire to marry Draco Malfoy. As much as she cared for him as a friend, she knew she would be miserable in that marriage. So, if he eventually tragically started dating someone his parents approved of, her mother would be disappointed, but Pansy would never be blamed.

But Pansy also had a feeling about Ginny Weasley. She couldn’t quite place it. In part it was that she actually liked the girl. She was so different from anyone she’d grown up with, which made her harder to read than most. The girl was all ambition and fire and very little cunning. And so… so direct. When Ginny had punched Malfoy for calling her friend a mudblood, it had clicked for Pansy. Ginny treated her friends like Pansy treated Aurellia. There wasn’t an ulterior motive, it was just pure loyalty. And Pansy… she wanted that. Something so simple and easy. A friend who would punch a Malfoy scion for calling her a name. She found herself in the unenviable position of being jealous of Hermione Granger. Okay, if she was really honest with herself, which she wasn’t, she was already jealous of Hermione Granger. But that was an entirely different set of emotions she was happy to repress. 

So she pulled Ginny aside and assured her she was on her side. And then she set to work smoothing everything over with Draco. Once his ego had been thoroughly assuaged, between her “you’re really brave you know”s and “oh that must hurt so much”es, there were, “she’s a Weasley, some allowances have to be made for her upbringing” and “I know Granger is insufferable, but Weasley was just trying to defend her friend.”

And it would have worked. It really would have, had Mulciber not hexed Aurellia into the hospital wing for two days trying to get at Ginny. That was just unacceptable.

Pansy wasn’t good at magic. But she could cast a full body-bind. Almost every pureblood girl going to Hogwarts could. So when Mulciber was alone, headed to Divination on the seventh floor, she hexed him and then, with great difficulty, got him into a storage closet. She then pulled out her potions knife and held it to the coward’s throat.

“If you hurt Aurellia again, this conversation will end a lot differently. If you hurt me in retaliation, you better kill me, because I will come for you… and you will leave Ginny Weasley alone. Spread the word. You don’t have to say it came from a second year. If my sister is hexed again, I’ll bring the entirety of House Parkinson down on your head.”

And with that, she left Mulciber lying prone in a storage room. The spell would wear off in an hour or so.

She should have realised that it would easily get back to Draco, what she’d done. But like Ginny Weasley, when it came to those she cared about, she didn’t plan. She just acted.

Two days later, Draco snubbed her publicly, and all her carefully laid plans fell to pieces.

“Draco, walk me to class?” she said in simpering tones, clutching onto his arm.

“Get off me, you harpy.” Draco shrugged her off. Pansy froze. Then, because having a breakdown in the Great Hall was social suicide, she stood, brushed imaginary lint off her skirt, amid the snickers all up and down the Great Hall. She smirked at Draco, as if this didn’t hurt at all. As if a piece of her wasn’t shattering as her childhood friend—admittedly selfish and egotistical, friend—did one of the worst things one Slytherin could do to another. He embarrassed her. As if the ruse was entirely that, and she hadn’t meant any of it. And then, collecting her things, she left the Hall.

She refused to cry. Absolutely refused. She knew Draco Malfoy practised a casual sort of cruelty, born from a lack of empathy and a surplus of entitlement. He wouldn’t think twice of this moment. She would not break for him.

The howler came the next day.

“PANSY PARKINSON! YOU FOOLISH FOOLISH GIRL. HOW DARE YOU DISHONOR THE HOUSE OF MALFOY IN SUCH A WAY. AND FOR A WEASLEY AND THE ROSIER GIRL. 

IF YOUR FAMILY LOYALTY IS SO SPARSE, YOUR FATHER AND I MAY RETHINK YOUR INHERITANCE AND OUR FUTURE SUPPORT OF YOUR EDUCATION.”

This was so much worse than she had expected. A howler. Sure, low class purebloods like Molly Weasley might have a stack of the things, ready to send her children at the slightest infraction. But for a Parkinson to send one to her daughter—a Slytherin. It was nearly unrecoverable. In the complex world of pureblood marriage alliances, this was a death sentence. No one would marry a woman deemed disloyal to a potential match by her own mother… and so publicly. No one in Society at least. Maybe, maybe, if she scraped and clawed and played the game as well as she knew she could, she could get something for herself. But not without abandoning Aurellia. Any defence of her sister that required her to challenge any Society family now would lead to disownment. Her mother did not make idle threats. And she knew Aurellia would stand by her friend, and eventually Ginny would force that confrontation.

Pansy’s gaze drifted over to the Gryffindor table. Hermione Granger was staring at her, her eyes wide, as Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter snickered to one another. She couldn’t blame them. She’d laughed openly at Weasley’s howler. But there was something. Something about Hermione Granger that was scratching at the back of her brain. Something important.

She heard a snort and her head whipped around. Draco was looking smugly at the remains of the howler in front of her. It was so much worse that he was pleased. It had likely been his own handiwork. But he knew—he knew what it meant. And he had been her friend. She’d known he was like this. But the foolish foolish girl in her had said that he’d never turn it on her. 

She laughed. It came out a bit manic. Her response, at least, shut Draco up as he looked at her as if she’d gone mad. She ran a hand through her hair and looked back at the Gryffindor table. It was truly over. There were know more plans… no more… unless.

“Pans… I’m so sorry…” Ginny said. There were tears in her eyes. Pansy looked at the girl, who in a round about way cost her her future. Then at Aurellia. Aurellia was openly crying. Ignoring both of them, she stood up and stepped over the bench. Most of the eyes of the Great Hall were on her still. She placed a light hand on Ginny’s back as she passed her and then nodded to Aurellia. And then she walked across the room, past the Ravenclaws, then the Hufflepuffs. Then, to the astonishment of every single person in the room, she sat down at the Gryffindor table, across from Hermione Granger.

It was a bet. She really didn’t have much to lose. She’d been backed into a corner, and she would not abandon her sister for anything. But she could use that look she saw Granger give her. That sad, empathetic look. And she could face the things that she’d shoved down for over a year. She ignored the entirety of the Gryffindor table glaring at her. She ignored the wands pointed in her direction and the shouting from the staff table. She focused on Hermione Granger.

“Can I talk to you?”

The girl was silent for a moment.

“Y-yeah?”

“In private?”

“Sure.”

“You’re not going anywhere with her,” Ronald Weasley practically shouted, making to stand up. Honestly, the grandstanding.

“Oh, you care now?” Hermione said in a scathing tone. She turned from Weasley and looked back at her. “Lead the way.”

Pansy stood, back ramrod straight, Hermione Granger following behind her, and left the Great Hall. Pansy kept walking until they reached an unused classroom. Then, finally, she slumped. Oh Morgana, she was crying. Granger didn’t say anything.

“Do you know what that Howler meant?”

Granger cocked her head quizzically.

“Well, your parents are upset with you. It seemed a bit of an overreaction.”

Pansy laughed.

“In pureblood speak, that was basically a disownment. If I abandon Aurellia and played the good daughter for the next five or so years, I could gain some standing back in my family. It’s what they expect. But they have two other daughters, my older sisters. I’m not even the spare. And I can’t…”

“Why are you telling me this?” Hermione said. Her voice was halfway between stiff and empathetic.

“Because there’s only one acceptable option,” Pansy said and rubbed at her eyes. Furious that she was breaking down now—in front of Granger of all people.

“What is it?”

“I have to do all this on my own. I can’t—I can’t just play the game anymore. Draco and my mother saw to that.” Her last words were bitter.

“I still don’t understand why you would come to me.”

“Because you're a damn prodigy,” Pansy said. And she kicked a desk. Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. “You’re so good at magic… Morgana, even Snape likes you, although he’ll never admit it. And I’m… I’m just a whore.”

Granger made a noise of protest and Pansy laughed mirthlessly.

“Sorry, a whore with a pedigree. I was just disowned because I protected my sister and fucking GInny Weasley. Because, for once in his life, someone besides the boy-who-lived stood up to Draco Malfoy.”

Granger was silent after that, but the same question hung in the air.

“How?” Pansy asked desperately. “How are you so good?”

Granger folded her arms across her chest.

“And why would I tell you anything? Now that you’re on the outs with your family, you’re happy to use the ugly little mudblood?”

Raw fury seemed to emanate from the girl and Pansy knew she’d miscalculated. She didn’t really care at this point. What a joke. Her life was over and she thought she could be good enough to make a disownment not matter? She thought she could just learn to be as good as the most talented witch Hogwarts had seen in over forty years, according to a conversation she overheard with Professor Flitwick? She wondered idly who Flitwick had in mind as Granger’s equal.

“There’s nothing I can say that will make what I’ve done better,” Pansy said, being fully honest since it didn’t matter anymore. “I can tell you I don’t really care about blood purity, that I was just doing what was expected, but that makes it worse, doesn’t it?” She laughed and made for the door. Granger stepped forward and stopped her.

“Sit down.”

“What?”

“Sit down.”

Pansy sat. Granger took out a quill, ink, and parchment and sat across from her.

“Best subjects?”

“Charms… and, well it’s not a subject, but I’m alright at hexes.”

“D.A.D.A. then.”

“I didn’t do well in Quirrel’s class…”

“Well, as he was incompetent and had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.”

Pansy flinched so hard she almost fell off the desk.

“What!?”

“He was possessed by Voldemort.”

Pansy hissed.

“Don’t say his name.”

Granger shrugged.

“You’re lying.”

“I really don’t care what you think.”

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. She wasn’t lying.

“He’s alive?”

“Yes. Career goals?”

“Can we circle back to the Dark Lord—”

“No. Career goals?”

“Until fifteen minutes ago, house wife. Granger, you don’t understand. Once I’m disowned, I have to be perfect to overcome it. I will never get a Ministry job. Ever.”

Granger looked at her. Her gaze was steely and unflinching.

“You came to me for help. Now, either leave or shut up and answer my questions.”

“I can’t do both of those things.”

“Merlin, you’re so annoying.”

“Morgana.”

“What?”

“Don’t use Merlin’s name.” Pansy made a face. “You’re better than that.”

Granger stared at her with utter confusion.

“It’s one thing if Ginny Weasley says it. She’s from a blood-” Pansy broke off at the look Hermione was giving her. “Whatever. The point is, you don’t have any reason to be using his name.”

“Wasn’t Morgana evil and a Dark Witch?” Hermione asked. 

“No and yes. She was an incredibly powerful witch that was written into the role of the villain in more modern history.” Pansy couldn’t keep the reverence out of her voice. She’d grown up on stories of Morgana, and later, in a rare childhood fit of scholarly interest, she’d read about the real life figure in her family library. Fact was sometimes wilder than fiction.

She could tell something about what she’d said hit home for Granger. There was a gleam in her eye, and if Pansy wasn’t mistaken, she thought she might have just started a new research project for Granger.

“Getting back to the topic at hand, I seriously doubt Gringotts cares about wizard politics. You could be a cursebreaker.”

“That requires Outstanding N.E.W.T.s in five different subjects,” Pansy said flatly.

“Isn’t that why you’re coming to me?” Hermione asked. Pansy stiffened.

“You’ve seen my performance…”

“It’s decent. How much time are you putting in?”

“About eight hours a week outside of class.”

Granger snorted.

“No need to be rude.”

“Pot, kettle.”

Pansy sniffed, mostly because she knew she had no leg to stand on, but didn’t want to admit it.

“Fine Granger, show me your vaunted schedule.”

She pulled it out of her bag and slid it over. Pansy’s jaw dropped.

“You can’t be following this.”

“I assure you, I am.”

“There’s only time for sleep!”

“That’s the secret.”

“What?”

“That’s why everyone thinks I’m the brightest witch of our age.” She said it sarcastically and with not a little bitterness. That was interesting.

“The secret is that you work hard…”

Granger shrugged.

“That’s it? But I heard you aced transfiguration on your first try in first year!”

She snorted.

“I practised all the spells at home ahead of time. I found out about magic early because I’m older than most of our year. I guess the underage restriction doesn’t kick in until you enroll in Hogwarts.”

“I think you’re underselling yourself.” Morgana, was she actually having this conversation?

“I’m not.”

“If that were true, every little Hufflepuff would be top of the class right along with you.”

Granger rolled her eyes.

“I’ve seen Susan Bones’s schedule. I’ve studied with them too. They just focus on the spells and classwork.”

“I mean, yeah. What are you doing during all this time?” She gestured at the blocked out study times. “Gobstones?”

This surprised a laugh out of Hermione.

“No. Theory. Practising until I can do a spell perfectly a hundred percent of the time. Once you understand why a spell works the way it does, it’s a lot easier to see how it is cast and to understand other spells.”

“What do you mean why?”

Granger sighed.

“Are you serious about this?”

Pansy leaned back, surprised by the question.

“Did I not just explain that I have no recourse? That my life as I knew it is over?”

“That seems a bit dramatic.”

Hot rage flowed up from Pansy’s gut, to her chest, and then took form in words.

“What would you know? I’m sure you’re very happy with your muggle parents. I haven’t seen you cosying up to a selfish boy just so that your parents can sell you off. So that they can brag at tea that their youngest and ugliest daughter married a Malfoy. Well, I have seen you do that, but I think that may just be bad taste.”

Granger flinched back as if she’d been slapped.

“You don’t know anything about Harry and Ron.” But her voice was weak.

“I know you fought a troll together. I know you all went on a little adventure that got the House Cup stolen from us.”

“It wasn’t—”

“And I know they abandoned you as soon as you defended Ginny Weasley’s sorting, because Weasley’s ego rivals Draco’s. And Potter… Potter might slay dark lords as a hobby, but he doesn’t have the stones to stand up to his best friend, even when he knows he’s wrong.”

Fury and hurt warred on Granger’s face and Pansy felt a sick sense of satisfaction mixed with guilt. But she couldn’t stop herself.

“At least I knew what I was getting into with Malfoy. At least—” Oh Nimueh and Morgana, why was she crying?

Tears were now pouring out of Granger’s eyes. She shoved her things at Pansy and jammed her palms into her eyes and rubbed fiercely.

“You’re right, alright? God, just shut up. I’m just a stupid know-it-all. I know that. Apparently that’s all the mudblood is good for. Helping with homework.”

Well shit. If Granger was unloading this onto her, she was in a bad spot.

“Granger… Granger!” The girl looked up. “Stop crying. You’re acting like it’s the end of the world.” This only served to make the girl angry and she glared at Pansy.

“You’re one to talk.”

“No, my world did end. Everything I planned is done. And what did I do? I came begging for your help.”

Granger scoffed.

“Hardly begging.”

“Whatever. My point is, stop being such a bloody Gryffindor about it!” Granger blinked. “If something doesn’t go your way, you figure out a solution. You don’t whine about how unfair it is and how no one will ever love you. You take your wand, you imperius them and tell them to be your friends… But uh, not literally… Just find better friends…”

“What?”

“The point is, think about what you want. Think about your resources. Get what you want.”

“Oh? And what are my resources? I think you’ve made it very clear what you think about me.”

Circe help this woman. Did she need to spell everything out?

“Whether you think so or not, everyone thinks you’re a prodigy at magic…” Granger just looked at her. “So… become friends with people who value that…”

Granger made a face.

“I don’t want to be used.”

Patience Pansy. Patience.

“You know you’re infuriatingly stupid, right?” Okay, no patience. “Who do you think is going to use you? People who don’t give a damn about magic or school, but want to skate by—’Oh look, Granger’s done the homework the day it was assigned. Granger, can I take a look at your essay? Just this once. You don’t understand. I just don’t get it like you do. Bloody brilliant, you are.’” She affected Ronald Weasley’s drawl, figuring he was the more likely of the two.

Granger flinched. On point then.

“Or Padma Patil? The girl who currently hates your guts because you beat her by one or two points in every single class last year.”

“You just said she hates me…”

“You really don’t get people, do you? Don’t answer that. I already know. That girl would kill to study with you. Maybe literally. Not because she wants to use you. Because she grew up with a twin sister who doesn’t share a single interest with her and the only one she can connect or compete with, our age, is in another house and, until recently, in a very insular friend group that hardly gives the time of day to anyone else.”

“How on earth do you know all this?”

“Unlike you, I find people interesting,” Pansy said haughtily.

Granger, rather than being offended, looked at Pansy thoughtfully.

“Give me your schedule.”

Pansy complied.

“What are you doing?”

Granger was tapping her wand against the schedule, murmuring under her breath. And to Pansy’s shock, it was rearranging itself. After a minute of this, Granger slid it back.

“That’s your new schedule. What are your thoughts on a study group?”

“You want me… to study with you?”

“Obviously. Did you not say ‘find new friends?’”

“Not with me!”

“Too bad. You want to be good at magic. I want to annoy the hell out of Harry and Ron.”

“Didn’t strike me as the petty type, Granger.”

“Well, I guess you don’t know people that well, Parkinson.”

And then, Granger smirked, and Pansy found herself mirroring it. If she was going to get disowned, she might as well do it with a bang.

***

Hermione Granger was a liar. Hard work her ass. That wasn’t to say the girl didn’t work like a mule. She did. But she did that on top of being a damn genius. When Pansy, three days into their two person study group and her new schedule, pointed this out, Granger’s cheeks turned a little red and she waved Pansy off. It wasn’t supposed to be a compliment!

“So, when are you going to ask Patil?”

“Soon…”

“It’s not a date, Granger. It’s a study group.”

“I know that,” Granger said, snippily. Pansy decided to change the subject.

“I’m going to have to miss our session tonight.”

Granger arched an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“I’m busy.”

“With…”

Morgana, this girl was relentless.

“I’m sneaking out of school.”

“What? Why?”

“Have you ever heard of personal boundaries?”

“No. Why are you sneaking out?”

Pansy sighed.

“I have to go to Gringotts… Once it gets back to my family that I’m studying with you, they’ll cut me off. I need to transfer my trust vault before they do that.”

“How are you getting to Gringotts?”

“My sister.”

“Meet me at the entrance hall.”

“What—you’re not coming.”

“If you want to sneak out successfully, yes I am. You know they patrol the grounds now?”

“You’re hardly sneaky.”

“Why is everything so difficult with you?”

“Pot, kettle,” Pansy replied. Granger’s mouth twitched slightly. “Fine. Entrance hall. And you better contribute. I’m not bringing around dead weight that might get us caught.”

Granger smirked.

***

She was late. Little miss perfect was late for once in her life. Pansy looked around and then jumped almost a foot in the air as something touched her shoulder. There was a snicker and then Granger pulled off…

“Is that an invisibility cloak?”

“Yup.”

“How on earth do you have an invisibility cloak?”

“It’s not technically mine…”

“You stole it?”

“Borrowed… from Harry.”

“You told him!?” she shriek-whispered. Granger rolled her eyes.

“Obviously not. He doesn’t exactly know I borrowed it. It’s the least he owes me.”

Pansy looked at her.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises, Granger?”

“Yes,” she said primly. “Now get under here.”

Thank Morgana for Granger’s cloak. Filch and Hagrid would have caught them had they not had it. Still… Granger’s ‘I told you so’ look might have made it worth getting caught to avoid the smugness.

They stumbled along the path to Hogsmeade, the cloak making it awkward for both of them to walk, and eventually came upon the Hog’s Head. Her sister was standing outside, looking a little bored. Pansy threw off the cloak.

“Pans!” Her sister clutched her heart. “You scared me.”

“Addy!” She hugged her sister, who hugged her back.

“And who’s your friend?”

“I’m Hermione Granger.” Granger stuck out her hand. Adrianna raised an eyebrow, but shook it.

“Adrianna Burke. Nice to meet you… So, this is real? You’re going full blood-traitor?” she asked Pansy. Granger stiffened.

“Funny word. You’d think being disowned for not giving a boy everything he wants would make our parents the traitors.”

“Pans. You know I don’t care. But this is going to make it difficult, maybe impossible for you.”

“I have a plan. But I need to do this tonight.”

“Of course. Take my hand, both of you.”

Side-along sucked just as much as it always did. They landed on a cobblestone street, and Pansy reached out and grabbed Granger’s shoulder as she almost toppled over. Granger gave her an odd queasy look, but nodded.

The process was relatively simple. Granger elbowed her in the side and took over when she made a rude comment to the goblin. They were surprisingly friendly to her, although she seemed to be just as rude as Pansy had been.

Pansy asked her about it after they left.

“How come he was so much nicer to you?”

“Because I read,” Granger responded. That was spectacularly unhelpful.

“Well if you’re going to be a git about it…”

Granger sighed as if put upon.

“Goblins do not appreciate condescension from witches and wizards. But they do appreciate backbone. As long as I’m rude about haggling and not about some misguided notion of innate superiority.”

“Granger, they’re goblins…”

“Yes, and even if you don’t agree they are your equals, they control your money. So, if I were you, I’d learn their etiquette,” she snapped. Pansy shut up. Because, that was a rather good point. Adrianna gave Granger and Pansy a curious look and then apparated them back. Pansy steadied Granger, who was truly terrible at landing on her feet.

“Thanks, Addy.”

“Of course. You know you can call on me for anything, no matter what happens.” She hugged her and Pansy felt her eyes water slightly, but blinked rapidly and waved goodbye.