Chapter 7
Hermione squinted at the cauldron in front of her, the bubbling liquid inside seeming to mock her efforts. With her hands firmly planted on her hips, she scowled at the disappointing results of her latest testing. Despite her relentless pursuit, she had yet to find a magical remedy that could effectively combat a muggle flu virus. She had been genuinely hopeful that the insights gleaned from the hangover potion Theo had tried last week would guide her toward a breakthrough. However, as the frustration mounted, Hermione began to gather the scattered research papers into a disorganized pile.
Resisting the overwhelming urge to toss the entire mess into the bin, she opted instead to set it aside, promising herself to revisit it later with a clearer head and a fresh perspective. Just then, her wards chimed softly, alerting her to the presence of someone entering through the front door of the lab. She instinctively began removing her lab coat, thinking, It must be the new research assistant. With a determined grip, she grabbed the file detailing the new assistant's background and headed toward the front of the lab, anticipation building.
“You must be the new—” she began, but the words caught in her throat as soon as her gaze locked onto a pair of striking emerald green eyes. A blast from the past stood before her, looking every bit the part in a sleek designer pant suit, a chic designer bag perched elegantly in the crook of her elbow. The woman's stick-straight black hair framed her face, reaching just above her shoulders, bringing back a whirlwind of memories that Hermione had long thought buried.
“Pansy Parkinson? What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, her voice a mix of surprise and confusion.
Pansy regarded her with an air of boredom, her emerald eyes sweeping over Hermione’s wild curls and the lab coat that hung loosely on her frame. “As you were saying,” she said, gesturing to herself with a dismissive wave, “I’m your new research assistant.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped slightly as she processed Pansy's words, her mind racing. She quickly flipped through the rather impressive transcript she had been reviewing the day before, her heart pounding as realization set in. Had she truly overlooked the name on the front? Clear as day, on the very first page, read: Applicant name - Pansy Parkinson.
“I apologize,” Hermione began slowly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I admit, I didn't even look at the name on the front, just the credentials.” She felt a wave of heat wash over her, the memory of their tumultuous past lingering uncomfortably between them.
Pansy just stared at Hermione, her lips pursed tightly, a mask of cool composure.. Abruptly, she straightened and adjusted her bag with a flick of her wrist, an almost dismissive gesture. “Very well then, I understand if you’d like to choose a different applicant. No hard feelings, Granger.” With that, she turned on her heel and began to walk away, her elegant silhouette cutting a sharp figure against the backdrop of the clinical interior or the lab.
Hermione was so taken aback by Pansy's sudden shift that it took a heartbeat longer than it should have for her to react. “Pansy, wait! I didn’t mean for you to leave.” The urgency in her voice broke through the air, and Pansy halted, turning slowly to face her again, a flicker of curiosity mingling with her guarded demeanor.
“I see no reason we can’t work together,” Hermione continued, her tone softening. “I was merely shocked that I didn't have the sense to look at the name of the applicant I chose. A tad embarrassing on my part, I’ll admit. Please, come have a seat.” Hermione gestured towards the desk.
After a moment's hesitation, Pansy walked to the desk Hermione had indicated and took a seat, her posture still regal yet slightly less tense.
“So, you studied in America?” Hermione asked, eager to steer the conversation into more comfortable territory. “What made you choose the research route, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Pansy leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she considered the question. “I grew tired of expectations,” she replied, her voice steady yet laced with an undertone of defiance. “One morning, I decided to do as I please, and that was to get a proper education. Research was not my first choice; to be honest, I was rather shocked myself when it started to pique my interest. And now here we are,” she paused, “I saw an opening in a highly esteemed lab and… it was time to come home.”
“Was it because of Malfoy?” Hermione asked before she could stop herself, the words rushing out in a moment of unguarded curiosity. “I am so sorry, that was rather personal. I just mean because he has also just returned from America. I didn't mean to pry…” Her voice trailed off, a hint of embarrassment creeping in as she realized the implications of her inquiry.
Pansy’s face was unreadable, a carefully constructed mask that offered no insight into her thoughts. After a moment of silence that felt heavy with unspoken truths, she finally replied, “yes and no.” The ambiguity hung in the air, and Hermione sensed that Pansy wasn’t inclined to elaborate further on the matter. With a resigned sigh, she shuffled through the paperwork in the file.
“Right, well, here is some onboarding information,” Hermione continued, her tone shifting to a more professional cadence. “I would ask that you read through the rules and regulations surrounding the lab. For the most part, I’d imagine they are similar to the other labs you’ve worked in, like the Brookhaven lab.” As she spoke, she noticed Pansy’s expression shift; her eyes shot up, and a smirk danced across her lips.
“Are you testing me on my own credentials?” Pansy teased, her tone laced with playful challenge.
“Oh, my apologies, did I misstate that?” Hermione responded, attempting and failing to feign innocence regarding the misunderstanding.
“You know it was Berkeley,” Pansy shot back, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Honestly, Granger, you’re a terrible sleuth. You could have tried a little harder to test me if you didn't believe me.” The banter between them filled the room, a mix of rivalry and camaraderie that hinted at the complexity of their shared history.
Hermione chuckled, “Well I don't exactly remember you being top of the class in school. Although… It must have been incredibly difficult to somehow manage fourth in our year every year. Always coming in one point less than Nott” Hermione eyed her knowingly.
“Actually in seventh year I didn't even rank.” she crooked an eyebrow at her.
“Interesting. Neither did Malfoy.” After a tense silence between the two, Hermione continued. “We are lucky to have you miss Parkinson. Welcome aboard. You do know you will have to wear a lab coat while you're here right?” Hermione couldn't resist one last barb.
Pansy faked offense “White after labor day honestly Granger!” With that, they both laughed.
****
Pansy left the lab after finally finishing the mountain of paperwork that had consumed her afternoon. The other two assistants, eager to welcome her, guided her on a brief tour of the workspace and helped her get settled at her desk. As she took a deep breath, it felt like the first genuine inhale since stepping foot into the sterile environment of the lab. The air outside was a welcome relief as she entered the Leaky Cauldron, a bustling hub of warmth. Theo was already waiting at the bar, a playful grin plastered across his face, two shot glasses placed enticingly in front of him.
“Fire whiskey or tequila?” he asked, his tone light and teasing, as if he was aware that his choice could set the stage for their evening.
Pansy rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “I am fine, Theodore. She didn’t toss me out on my arse immediately, so I suppose things went well enough.”
“I told you! She is just a normal, barely functioning adult like the rest of us. Totally accepting of all,” he replied, throwing his arm around her shoulders as he led her toward a cozy table tucked away from the crowd.
“Easy for you to say; you didn’t torment her in school,” Pansy shot back, her voice laced with a hint of defensiveness, the memories still fresh and gnawing at her.
“Well, here's a wild thought, Pansy-cake. Have you tried maybe apologizing for your behavior?” he suggested, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, as if he knew that his playful jab might just crack the ice that surrounded her heart.
“Parkinsons don’t apologize; we just buy gifts and move on,” she declared, crossing her legs and arms in a defiant gesture that spoke volumes about her resolve. Theo leaned in closer, his expression shifting to one of earnestness as he replied, “What happened to our pact of breaking generational trauma?” His tone was serious, a stark contrast to the light-hearted banter they often shared.
Pansy mirrored his movement, leaning forward as well, her brow raised in challenge. “And how are your commitment issues coming along, ‘T’?” She emphasized the nickname, using air quotes with a smirk, a playful jab at his past flings with Muggle women that had become a running joke between them.
“You got me there, Pans,” he admitted with a chuckle, momentarily lightening the air around them. Just then, the waiter approached their table, ready to take their lunch orders, pulling them back into the present moment with the enticing aroma of food wafting through the air.