Pansy
This was horrible. This was, most certainly, going to change their lives, and she hated change.
“Pansy, relax,” said Theo, definitely not relaxed, “or you will go grey, and we know how horrible that looks, don’t we,” he poked Blaise’s shoulder with his bony elbow, earning a pair of rolled eyes, but some other Slytherin’s snorted behind them. Ugh, she despised remembering how she accidentally hexed her own hair grey in their second year, and how it took her abysmal crying for the boys to stop howling with laughter and actually help get her obsidian hair back.
“Oh, stop!” She threw a pillow at the boys, “I can’t believe we have to start classes today. It seems wrong without Dray…” Realistically, she knew that they would be back on track soon, that one student dying didn’t just magically bestow them time to get over their shock, she’d know, as she reflected on last year with that Hufflepuff boy dropping dead. Or the year before that, when the werewolf almost killed the golden trio. Or the year before that, when the basilisc was going feral. Or the year before- actually, how is this academy still allowed to operate?
“They’ve already given us three days off, it was bound to happen soon, and seeing how Narcissa - or should I say Professor Malfoy - is now working on Hogwarts grounds, I’m confident that Draco won’t be too far back,” concluded Blaise.
Theo added to that too, “And don’t forget the dearest most beloved uncle Sev.” They giggled at that.
The thing she is anticipating is the defence classes, as now they will do proper magic, she hoped. She was still astonished from the earlier announcement when they were all called after the incident, informing them that the classes would resume later, that Umbrige left her post and Professor Malfoy took her place. It would be fair to say that everyone was ecstatic and sceptical, excluding the Slytherins, of course, having a Malfoy as a teacher is a privilege. The only ones openly against the idea were Potter and his weasel, loudly chatting about how ‘insane’ it was in the corridors. At least Granger had enough brains to admit that Malfoy is a much better change than Umbrige.
However, despite the happy news, they were all still shaken. Blaise particularly. After Snape mandated everyone to warn their parents, an older Slytherin got everyone’s attention when they got to the dungeons, ordering everyone to change Snape’s name to Dumbedore’s, so as not to put their favourite professor in danger. They all knew he was a spy - it was an unannounced truth. While others suspect that he’s a Death Eater, Slytherins are too attentive to his interactions with others, seeing how on numerous occasions he’s ascertained himself to be against the pureblood principles. Nobody cared though, no Slytherin wanted a war. Hence, no one wanted Snape in trouble.
Did she think that she was still better than the Weasleys? Yes, of course, but that’s because they are tactless, obtaining zero awareness of social cues and manners. Was Potter a bloody idiot? Unquestionably. But, again, it’s because he is an idiot. The only decent one was Granger, and unknown to her, she was the most liked one within the Slytherin house among all the Gryffindors - a mudblood unlike the Weasleys.
She skimmed over Blaise, at how he sat still, unsure of what to do next. Pansy shared a look with Nott before jumping at Blaise and embracing him from both sides as they did to Draco, too, countless times before.
“Guys-”
“No!” She didn’t let him speak, “Draco will be alright. Your mom will be alright. You wrote to her on time, didn’t you say so yourself”
After they all were rushed to the dungeons, everyone who had any relation to the more ‘elevated rank’ wrote to their parents. There were a few Slytherins with muggle parents, who didn’t have the best affinity with the expected Slytherin society, so they didn’t write to anyone. However, she and most others did. Blaise practically set the paper on fire, he was so anxious he lost command over his magic for a second, a rare occurrence for people their age.
Ms Zabini was always close with Mrs Malfoy, with them meeting weekly for a cup of tea, there even were rumours that Blaise and Draco were in an arrangement to get engaged, but it was repudiated by both boys as they loved each other exclusively platonically. Pansy’s parents were decently accustomed to Malfoys, nowhere as close as the Zabinis but alsonot as distant as Nott’s father. As Blaise’s mother was not involved in the Death Eater circles, and she was mostly by herself, he’d been worried he’d lose her, too, if the Death Eaters got to hers before he did. She received the letter on time, and if anything were destined to occur - they’d never know. Mr Nott on the other end, still grieving his deceased wife, did not care to do anything, as he’d known that he was secure, having severed his relationship with the Malfoys long ago seeing as they were more reluctant now to worship of the Dark Lord.
“Thank you, you goons,” Blaise said with his endearing charm as he sat to braid Pansy’s hair, Theodore gushing at them lovingly. He looked at the boy, eyes sparkling with realisation.
“My mother requested me to make sure that you didn’t require any assistance after Mrs Nott’s passing, that you shall let her know if anything were needed,” Blaise informed the other boy as he fixed a band on the tip of Pansy’s braid now. For a second there, she felt like she was betraying Draco. It was him who usually did her braids, yet she knew that Blaise did it for the sake of her comfort, knowing that abrupt change always spirals her, knowing that they all needed normality.
Theodore almost laughed, “thank you, thank you, but dad is handling it,” he said before turning around to check the time, saying they should start heading for breakfast soon. Theodore’s seemingly unfazed demeanour for his mother’s death did not surprise anyone, even Draco asked her when she confided in him, ‘What did you expect, that he mourn a stranger?’Of course, just like all other times, Draco was right. Theo and his mother had a rather… distant relationship, always more protective of his father.
When they agreed to eventually stroll to the dining hall, they glared at Vincent and Gregory, still equally furious with the boys, Theo and Pansy almost ripping their throats apart. Cowards, she thought. They had known about the plans to get Draco involved and said nothing. Not a single warning. Their fathers being prominent Death Eaters, and often grooming the boys into the ranks, wanting them to upgrade from their status of sympathisers, had opened the doors for the boys to hear of the plans as they were often called to join. Theo himself found out about their ignorance through his father, who cautioned Theodore to be careful with them around - even though Mr Nott was a loyal servant to the Dark Lord himself, he didn’t wish any harm upon his only child - the only commonality between him and the Malfoys.
Perhaps that is why Draco had acted more unbeatable whenever those two were around.
“Traitors,” she spat as they passed them.
“YOU-”
Greg stopped Vincent by stretching his arm to stop the bigger boy from approaching her, “we didn’t know it was this bad,” he said apologetically.
“Bad or not, you should have still warned him!” Theo interjected, with Blaise nodding on the side.
“Indeed. He thought of you as friends. He trusted you,” Blaise said, “We are undoubtedly telling him about your cowardice to even owl him about this.” This time it was her turn to nod.
Greg continued his apologies or attempts at them, “They would have been checked, I think?” She scoffed at that.
“Intercept. It called itntercepted, you moron,” elucidated Theodore.
“You better earn your forgiveness if you want us seriously believing that you’re any good for Draco’s friendship,” she finally said before guiding Blasie and Theodore with her out into the halls.
The moment they entered the hall, they regretted it. It was… unruly. Students were all chatting, and jumping, everyone was so loud, and the professors too were all riled up and discussing something, apart from Narcissa whose face was ashen and still, holding the Daily Prophet. They went up to Millicent, who also was reading the paper, and snatched it out of her hands.
“HEY- Oh, it’s you, Parkinson,” she abruptly said with a sly expression before turning away and starting a chat with Flint, forgetting about the paper within seconds.
Pansy placed the Prophet on the table so that Blaise and Theo could also read it with her.
THE MALFOY TRAGEDY: MISSING, MURDERED, MAULED
“That venomous snake,” she hissed, as she continued scanning the paper for keywords.
Yesterday night there had been an arranged raid on the Malfoy Manor by the ministry… Aurors… dead… Death Eaters… non caught… rejected believes… seeking refuge… Lucius Malfoy presumably murdered… only his wand… Narcissa’s Malfoy whereabouts undisclosed… Draco Malfoy… blood… Hogwarts… evidence… torture… lacerations… burns… crippled… on his deathbed—
“Stop indulging in this nonsense,” Blaise grabbed the paper from the table and crumpled it up before quickly setting it ablaze.
“Where did Rita Skeeter even get this information from, I thought the case was confidential?” She asked, still processing the words from the paper.
Blaise sat on the bench, looking fatigued, getting a drink from the buffet, “Since the raid already occurred, this has officially unfurled the case to the public,” he shrugged, “yet, some of that information is… insubstantial.”
“Insubstantial? Some of that information should not be there…” Theo said as he joined Blaise, urging Pansy to eat something before the class while looking sick himself, abandoning the thought of indulgence altogether.
She sat silently, picking at her food and seeing how no one on the table was eating either, so she looked up and scanned the room only to find most students doing the same. Narcissa was still looking down, even paler than minutes ago, and Pansy’s stomach clenched and turned over, nausea intensifying as she repeated some of the words from the Prophet. Even Weasley was quiet, and for the first time since their start at Hogwarts, he did not eat from the table, which says a lot, considering it’s Weasley.
All her thoughts were occupied by Draco, though. Draco. Her friend. She’s not loyal to anyone but him, because at the end of the day, he was always by her side. Many people mistook her love for him as romantic, but that wasn’t the case. For one, he’s more likely to have a male lover than her, and second, she didn’t find romance that appealing.
Just the thought of him being hurt sickened her, and here it was, his most dreadful memory published for the entire wizarding world. She wonders if he’s awake. If he read it too if he found out about his father through the Prophet or if was he conscious and at the manor to witness it himself - she didn’t know which one was worse.
Later she found herself in the D.A.D.A class, everyone anticipating the start to judge their new curriculum. She and Blaise were by the doors, in the habit of arriving approximately ten minutes before. They both took it on from Draco who not once has been late to any of his classes. Always top marks (right after Hermione). Whatever people like to say about him, that he’s mean and a bully, that he’s a pretentious arrogant little git, well, she won’t deny that - they all are after all - but unlike others, the Slytherins know Draco as no one else does. He wasn’t kind, no, but he was soft. It is the same softness that she’s seen in Narcissa so many times before - the refinement of her manoeuvres, the tenderness and sway of every movement, the neat well-kept look of her garments matching the slenderness of her wrists, the smoothness of her skin, and the mocking attitude that balanced it out. Narcissa was beautiful. The Malfoy name served her better than Black ever would. The House of Black was known for its venom, macabre wit and the tragedy that fueled their motions. They were hot-blooded, and Pansy could never see Narcissa belonging to that. In the same way, Draco could never fester enough courage to apply the name Black to himself.
However, in the secret of her room, she would admit to Blaise that while Draco might not be as ghoulish as the Blacks, that didn’t make his decisions any less ghastly and alarming. To Draco’s oblivion, he, unfortunately, inherited the Black besottedness towards the dark magic and attitude. To this day, Pansy is amazed by his capabilities. As purebloods, they would often receive tutoring classes on magic, to get them ahead of others. This included healing magic.
Just like Narcissa, Draco could not produce an adequate amount of healing, a trait that often runs in the Black bloodline, yet without fail on his first try he would produce minacious hexes and curses.
She broods on the thought of Draco and his strong resemblance to Blacks, even his naturally wavy hair is an indicator of that, although he tries to suppress that just like he tries to straighten his hair. She wonders if it isn’t about the courage of applying the name, but rather admitting to the absurdity that comes with it. How funny, she realised, he inherited the worst from his two names; the cowardice of the Malfoys and the ruthlessness of the Blacks. With sudden realisation, she understands his boggart now, from their third year. Himself. In that class, they all saw his crazed self on the side of the rest, alive, members of the Black family.
“Good morning, Pansy, Blaise. I am more than honoured to have my first course with such ardently committed and aspiring individuals as yourselves,” their professor came up, swathed in the best-tailored robes and a glamour covering her essence and adding a note of allure to her, “I am confident that you will achieve the finest scores during your examination further in the semester.”
She stupored before responding, caught off guard, “Yes, thank you, Narci- ugh- Professor Malfoy.”
Narcissa merely chuckled at that, cautioning her to be cognisant of her ‘calamities’ in public, so that no one would catch her stutter, as her parents would be less than pleased about that.
Pansy overlooked that Narcissa now wore her hair naturally and focused more on the dramatic language this woman possessed, a defining Malfoy signature. Sass, class, and dramatics, as Theo used to joke.
The thing about purebloods is that they are often mistaken for bigots and merciless abusers, which is the case in some households, but the majority did not practice such harsh customs. Hence, Pansy never locates the right words for the Malfoy adults, because if her being caught off guard is a ‘calamity,’ she’s afraid to suppose how perfect one has to be at the Malfoy Manor because Pansy’s parents absolutely do not care despite whatever belief the Malfoys held.
As more students arrived, she and the boys moved more towards the back, planning to take more of an observing role.
“Shove off, Parkinson,” spit Ron as she rammed into him completely lost in thought, she was preparing to hex his hair pink before Blaise took her by the wrist and dragged her with him to the other end of the class, Theo murmuring that now was not the right time for attention calls. She would have eye-rolled if it weren’t for Narcissa’s bewitching stare at them.
“How many of you mastered the Unforgivable Curses?” Narcissa inquired with amusement, her wand ready and searching in the crowd.
This was a promising start Pansy thought with a shudder.