The Right by Parks and Fiction, Chapter 18 Pansy whirled as the
door opened, heart thundering. What the fuck was Neville doing
home today of all days? He looked as surprised to see
her. Pansy, I thought you had a full
day of. He broke off seeing the other
person at the table. Harry Potter gave him a friendly
smile. Hey, Nevada, he said.
Pansy said that you'd be at the castle all day.
But I'm glad I get to see you. After all, we're almost done.
Done with what? Neville's gaze darted between
them. Why do you have Pansy's wand?
He stepped forward. Did something happen at the shop
again? Are you OK?
Well, this was going to be fun. Potter glanced at her, as if
realising for the first time that Neville had no idea what he
was doing there. The shop's fine.
She said with a bright smile. Harry's just stopped by for tea
and I asked him to run a diagnostic on my wand.
Neville's eyes narrowed. He turned to Potter.
Why are you really here? Potter's eyes darted between
them, completely ignoring the diagnostic that was still
running on her wand. Not that he'd find anything dark
or illegal, but still. One expected better from the
Chosen 1. Pansy blew on her now lukewarm
tea, betting her shop that Potter would give her up.
Ironic considering the reason he was here.
Sorry Neville. He said, shifting just stuff for
her. Probation.
And there it was. She flashed him a humorless
smirk. I guess turnabout really is fair
play, Potter. He frowned.
Probation. Neville spat.
What's probation? Potter's eyes widened.
His eyes darted between them. Brilliant mind finally putting
it all together, She sat back and crossed her legs.
Don't stop now, Potter, you're doing so well.
He shifted. Someone tell me what the fuck is
going on. Neville snapped.
Potter sighed, already giving in.
Goodness, was it just because it was her and Neville, or was he
actually this easy to break? Pansy's on probation and
undergoes a full aura investigation every six months.
Probation. He spat.
For what? Potter shifted again.
Merlin, he was twitchy. Intention to aid and abet a mass
murderer. Neville froze.
He turned very slowly towards the chosen one, looking every
inch the man who killed the Dark Lords final horcrux with the
sword of Gryffindor. Merlin, it was hot.
Are you fucking serious? Potter pulled off his glasses
and began polishing them. How could you let this happen?
His head shot up. It's not like there weren't
hundreds of witnesses. He snapped, each one of them
more willing to testify against her than the last.
Neville gaped at him. Is this about what she said in
the Great Hall? But he's there, Potter's there.
Someone grab him. She sipped her tea, watching
Potter. Yeah, are you fucking kidding
me? He demanded.
You think she was serious about that?
Potter pinched the bridge of his nose.
If you'd read her other evaluation transcripts, and she
was certain he had, he knew the answer to that.
And why are you here? Neville snapped.
This has to be a gross conflict of interest.
I'm the lead investigator on attacks against Pansy because
I'm the only one taking that case seriously, and Pansy
herself approved me of doing her evaluation this year.
Neville rounded on her, glaring. She smiled.
I said any close friend of my husband's is a close friend of
mine. Potter cleared his throat.
And it's actually good you're here.
I need to examine the contents of the night stand in your
bedroom. The fuck you do?
Neville spat. Honestly, she was a little
disappointed. She wanted to see the look on
Potter's face when he saw Neville's collection of nipple
clamps. Not that she'd made it easy for
Potter. Despite Neville's insistence
that Mimby wasn't sentient, she'd made him move her to the
guest room. As Potter had searched the
kitchen, however, she put her back on the locked night stand,
hoping he'd get a stink SAP shower for his trouble.
Perhaps already upset about the move, Mimby started quivering
the moment Potter began cycling through unlocking spells.
He'd given up rather quickly, but then again, he'd shared a
room with the cactus for two years and doubtless had already
learned that lesson. Whatever the version of a treat
was for a Mimbulus mimbaltonia, Mimby was getting it tonight.
Potter sighed. Nerve.
I understand this is difficult. Oh.
He said. You have someone come into your
home, look through your things, and question your wife.
That made Potter snap. Jinny fought against Voldemort.
Neville threw his arm out at her.
Pansy never lifted A wand for him.
Potter inhaled slowly. You want to know why Pansy is
still on probation? He spun towards her.
Pans. Miss Park Longbottom.
He cringed as he awkwardly stumbled through her names.
She smiled. Missus Longbottom is fine.
Do you still swear allegiance to the Dark Lord, Voldemort, or any
of his causes? No.
Do you believe in or support the mass genocide of muggles or
muggle borns? No.
Do you believe muggles or muggle borns are inferior to pure blood
witches and Wizards? No.
Merlin, that one felt good to say.
See. Neville demanded.
Potter stiffened, as if he was preparing himself.
This was the first time he'd been her examining aura, but she
still knew what was coming next. On the evening of May 2nd, 1998.
Did you know that it was the intention of the Dark Lord
Voldemort to murder me if I was handed over to him?
Yes, everyone fucking knew that. Neville snapped.
Well. Said Longbottom.
Potter ignored him. With that knowledge, did you
still intend to turn me over to Voldemort and his followers?
Yes, it would have killed her and her entire family.
Neville said. The first was certainly a
detriment, the latter was more of an incentive.
Do you regret your decision to demand I be turned over to
Voldemort? Oh, skipping right ahead to the
fun one. I do not, nor would she ever.
Neville's head snapped towards hers, eyes wide with shock.
Potter's face tightened. Given the chance to go back,
would you make the same decision?
She looks straight into his bottle green eyes and without a
waiver in her voice, said without hesitation.
She'd never seen a look of such betrayal as the one on Neville's
face. Part of her pitied him.
He really had no idea who he'd married.
Potter rubbed his forehead. Pansy, all you have to do is
say, Did he coach all the people he was in charge of evaluating
or just those married to his old school friends?
Believe me, Potter, I know exactly what I need to say and
do. It wasn't as if she enjoyed
having her movements monitored by the Ministry and her privacy
violated every six months. Do you know why I always tell
the truth for those last two questions?
He sighed. No, so you know that I was
telling the truth for the rest of them too.
He eyed her. And so you know that I'm telling
the truth when I now say, for the record that not a day passes
that I am not grateful that you defeated the Dark Lord, she
said. But there will never come a day
where I regret the decisions that I made that night.
He studied her for several long moments, as if he could crack
her open and spill all her secrets.
Finally, he let out a long breath.
Due to your confession of guilt and lack of remorse for your
decision to turn over one of your classmates to certain death
on the evening of May 2nd, 1998, your probation has been extended
for the next 6 months. She smiled.
Harry, you don't need to make up excuses.
You're welcome by the house anytime.
Ponzi, please stop. Neville muttered.
Potter glanced at him and back to her as a reminder.
Your wand will be weighed at your next evaluation.
He said, tone flat as he repeated the same lecture she
got every six months. She probably had it memorized by
now as well. Any presence of dark spells will
result in the appropriate Azkaban sentence.
Any attack spells cast in self defence in the next 6 months
must be reported to the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement within 24 hours of being cast because that would be
evaluated fairly. You must continue to keep your
primary residence, as well as any other real estate you own,
on record with the Ministry at all times.
He said each property has the right to be searched at any
given time. You are required to authorize
and or a team to examine your Gringot's faults if it is ever
deemed necessary or if there were more heirloom jewels they
wanted to pocket. You are not allowed to leave the
country without prior Ministry approval.
Potter said. Do you have any questions about
the terms of your probation? No, she said.
Sounds like fun. Neville shot her another sharp
look. Potter gathered up the stack of
paperwork he'd brought with him. He turned to Neville with a
pained expression. The night stand is keyed with my
own bloodlock, and not even Pansy can get in, he said.
Only my belongings are in there, and I take responsibility for
each of them. Potter wavered.
Finally, he nodded. Now I'm taking your word for it,
he said. If we do discover anything
illegal came from there. Pansy couldn't quite suppress A
brief laugh. I'd like for you to go now,
Neville said. Potter nodded.
Sorry again, Nevada. Neville stared at him.
You're sorry? His voice was flat and
expressionless. Yeah, of course, Potter said.
I hate doing this to you. To me?
Neville demanded. What about Pansy?
Potter glanced at her, and then back at his friend.
I'm just doing my job. Yeah, never last.
I was finding the person who vandalised her shop going.
I'm not giving up. There just haven't been any new
leads for a while. Well, if you need to free up
some department resources, I have some ideas about where you
can start. A muscle in Potter's jaw tensed.
Take it up with the Wisengemot, he said.
Or better yet. He snapped with his mouth shut,
but it was already too late. Better yet, what?
Neville asked. It's always silky smooth, but
dangerous. It usually meant she was about
to get either her arse reddened or edged until she begged.
She wondered what it meant when he used it on Potter.
Potter rubbed his forehead. I don't like this either.
He turned to Pansy. Thank you for being so
cooperative this morning. I'll make sure everything else
is complete. Just as he reached the door,
Pansy called out. Give our love to Jenny.
His body locked up, knuckles turning white on the handle.
With a long exhale, he yanked it open, stepped outside, and was
gone with a crack. At least Potter had been quick
about it. Some other auras seemed to
relish drawing it out and taking up her whole day.
She'd never received any notice before her evaluations.
Daphne had to rearrange her entire morning, which threw off
the rest of her week. She had to send a note to Saint
Mungo's to say that she wouldn't be in to see Alice, and since it
was a Monday, it meant going five days without seeing her.
There was just enough time to be early for her first afternoon
appointment and make sure the Auras hadn't completely tossed
her shop, but it would probably be best to get Neville's lecture
over with now. Why didn't you tell me?
He demanded. She knew what he meant but
decided to intentionally misunderstand him.
I didn't find out it was today until I arrived at work this
morning, only to find Daphne standing outside, pacing while
the team of Auras worked their way through her shop and Daphne
and Astoria's flat, despite neither of them being on
probation. If she'd been renting to a
couple of Ravenclaws, she doubted they would have gotten
the same treatment, but all daughters of Death Eaters were
the same, weren't they? Another team was already at work
at her Manor. She could only hope that there
was no proof there of whatever Daphne and Astoria's
embezzlement scheme was. Why didn't you tell me you were
on probation? She sipped her tea, the brew
long gone cold and bitter. Perhaps I didn't want to witness
you flipping from indignant on my behalf to tell me to shut up
in such a short amount of time. He dropped his head and rubbed
his face with both hands. Just about the sarcasm.
And I didn't say shut up. I believe it was implied.
He didn't bother arguing that fact.
Why did you do it? She sipped her tea.
I know you said you knew no one would actually listen to you, so
why did you say it? He demanded.
Why not just be silent and leave with the rest of the evacuating
students? Words couldn't express how much
she wished it had been that easy.
Finally giving up on her tea, she walked over to the sink and
poured it out. I have appointments I need to
get back to, and I have class I need to teach, but neither one
of us is leaving until you tell me why you demanded Harry be
turned over to Voldemort and why you still don't regret it.
For a moment she let herself feel the weight of the old
crushing burden, the desperation she'd felt all of 7th year.
From the moment her father forced her into that oath until
the night he died and the Dark Lord was defeated.
She'd carried that fear, that weight 1.
She'd nearly forgotten until her father's solicitor showed up
with Ivan on her doorstep months before her 24th birthday.
Neville already thought she was a monster, might as well lean
into it entirely. She spun to face him.
It was an easy decision, almost risk free, she said.
If the Dark Lord won that night and find out I was the sole
person to stand up for him, the sole person to demand Potter be
turned over to him, I would have been richly rewarded.
He drew back as if she'd slapped him.
And if Potter and the Order triumphed, my actions would be
put down to those of a spoiled, misled, foolish girl, and I
would have gotten little but a slap on the wrist.
She gave him a humorless smile. Or the ability to leave Britain
without prior Ministry approval. She attempted to stride past
him, but he stepped in her way. And what, may I ask, was the
reward you were so desperate for?
He spat. What meant more to you than
Harry's life? I wanted Harry to win.
She seethed. I was desperate for him to win.
Do not judge me for what I did to save myself.
If he did not, it's not like you would have suffered under
Voldemort's rule. She laughed once.
Are you fucking serious? Look around Longbottom, I'm
still suffering for what happened under him.
His lip curled in disgust. You wanted to be let out of the
blood oath. You can't be fucking let out of
a blood oath. Hadn't they both come to that
conclusion themselves after months of research?
Then what was it for? He yelled.
Hermione Granger. He reared back.
Fuck, why couldn't she just keep her mouth shut?
At least she hadn't given him the full truth.
You were going to save her. He blinked.
You didn't even like her then? No, she said.
I didn't, but Draco did. His tone was wary, exhausted.
And you needed Draco to complete the right.
Draco would have done anything for Hermione Granger, and
Hermione Granger would have done anything for She could have
gotten us out. Oz Fuck, when had he gotten this
astute? When had she gotten so sloppy?
She met his gaze. Draco and I, she said.
Theo too, if we could manage it. Who else?
He threw his hands up. The rest of us who survived the
battle only to end up you would have been fine, she said.
Sacred 28 and all, regardless of being a blood traitor.
Probably forced into her father's programme at one point
or another. And by fine you mean not
immediately murdered. She swallowed.
The ones who were going to be murdered right away were the
lucky ones. If she knew anything, it was
that by all rose in the back of her throat.
McNair had plans, you know, for after the war, once they won.
Elaborate plans for entertainments, the sort Death
Eaters and wannabe aristocrats would enjoy.
His face twisted. He was going to start monthly
hunts. She said.
Mostly muggles, but muggle born witches and Wizards apparently
made for especially exciting prey.
Potter's golden girl, Well, she would have been the best prize
of all. Neville's breath caught.
You were going to save her from that if positioning myself to be
able to ask the Dark Lord for a reward from my loyalty so I
could request that Hermione Granger become my slave to
torment daily in order to force Draco's hand into marrying me
and completing the right councillors trying to save her.
Yes, she said absolutely. He drug a hand through his hair.
Tell me, where do I go to pick up my Order of Merlin?
She asked. I know it's not quite throwing
off a spell cast by the Dark Lord using the Elder Wand in
order to decapitate his final Horcrux with an ancient magical
relic, but surely, surely I'd at least get a third class for that
level of heroism. His hands curled around the top
of a chair so hard his knuckles turned white.
Do you ever take a break from the fucking sarcasm?
Where would be the fun in that? How can they, especially Harry,
keep you on probation knowing all that?
Harry doesn't know. He frowned.
Hermione hasn't told him. No one knows, except now him.
He blinked. Dracore.
She scoffed. You really think I could look
him in the eyes and tell him that I was going to save the
love of his life, only to use it against him to help myself?
He chewed the corner of his lip. It's more complicated than that,
isn't it? She laughed once.
Make up your mind about me already, Longbottom.
She said. Am IA monster or not?
His long silence was telling too.
Telling, right? She said, glad to know I'm good
enough to fuck and not good enough to trust Bansi.
Oh, that's right, she said. I'm not actually good enough for
that either. He started to say something
else, but she cut him off. I've already managed to
reschedule most of my week because of this.
I would like to limit the damage as much as possible.
He didn't speak as she gathered her things and strode towards
the door. I know what my interactions with
the Potters usually result in the silent treatment for a few
days. She said.
So before you start avoiding me, I just want to say good luck
with everything that'll keep you at the castle past when I go to
bed for the next week or so, Bansie.
And if you ever, ever so much as think about telling Hermione or
Traco or either of the Potters or any of your other friends
about what I just said, I swear to fucking Salazar.
She couldn't think of a threat strong enough.
Because at the end of the day, he still held all the power and
she still had none. Even after everything, he could
decide not to complete the right and send her back to Ivan.
Well, he now probably thought she deserved to be anyway.
I, I won't, he said, voice soft. She swallowed, hating the rush
of gratitude as much as the doubt that still snaked through
her. I think you should, though.
Of course he thought that. Him, with his countless friends
and order of Merlin and perfect fucking life.
She pulled the door shut behind her and apparated back to the
shop. Her client was early, so she
didn't have a chance to chat with Daphne before jumping into
the thick of things. At least the auras were gone.
All that she got was a quick confirmation from Daphne that
they had finished and nothing had been too disturbed in the
shop or her in a storia's flat. Unfortunately, Daphne had taken
her quick comment that she'd work through lunches on Tuesday
and Thursday to make it up to clients as her blessing to
schedule out Wednesday and Friday lunches as well.
Seeing a fully booked schedule should have made her happy, but
not when it meant going a week without seeing Alice.
The only opening left was a brief hour on Friday afternoon
that she'd swiftly blocked. The Healers were flexible about
Alice's schedule during the day, but there was no exceptions for
the visitor policy after dinner. It wasn't like Alice was going
to notice Pansy's absence or miss her, but she wasn't happy
about not being able to follow up with her care.
On top of that, the brief respite of quiet peace with
Alice in the courtyard were always some of her favorite
parts of the week. To make matters worse, ever
since the Gryffindor Slytherin Quidditch match, the DA crew
seemed to no longer hate her, or at least had grown interested
enough into booking appointments with her.
Not only was her week uncomfortably full, it was
uncomfortably full of Gryffindors who had to be extra
nice to her for Neville's sake. Thanks to Potter, at least six
of them had to have their appointments changed, which she
was certain none of them would ever hold against her
considering their overly forgiving nature towards her.
Wednesday afternoon, right before she was supposed to have
an appointment with Pavati Patil, an urgent message came
from Saint Mungo's. Fuck, what's wrong?
Daphne asked casually, trying to tilt her head to read the
missive. She vanished it before she got a
look. I have to cancel on Patil Bansi.
You can't do that twice in one week.
And send her some sort of gift basket and tell her I'll throw
in two free outfits next time. She said this can't wait.
Before Daphne had a chance to argue further, she'd already
fled the shop. Her errand took her longer than
expected, but she was on the Janus Thicky ward in just under
1/4 of an hour. Margaret sagged in relief when
Pansy swept into the ward. She and another healer were
trying to coax Alice back into bed, but she looked like she was
moments away from needing to be stunned.
She wouldn't stop, swaying and shaking, on the verge of another
outburst like the one she'd had when water had dripped down her
face. Pansy's heart clenched.
What happened mattered. To the back of Alice's head was
a large piece of Drupal's blowing gum.
Yesterday wasn't a good day. She's been a wreck all week,
Margaret said. She did this right after lunch.
Has she ever put gum in her hair before?
No, Margaret said. It's her favorite candy and we
wouldn't have allowed her to have anything that would cause
her arm. I brought a few things that can
help. She said.
Hopefully it isn't too embedded. She trailed off as Alice's
frantic movement started to still.
Margaret and the other healer traded looks.
Pansy walked over Alice. She asked softly.
Are you OK, sweetheart? There was no hint of recognition
in her eyes, they seemed as dull and empty as ever, but she
calmly walked over to the stool she typically sat in when Pansy
came to do her hair. Hands folded in her lap
perfectly still, Margaret inhaled sharply.
All because Pansy hadn't shown up for five days.
Because somewhere deep down, Alice had decided that if she
tried to ruin her hair, Pansy would come back.
A lump embedded itself in the Peck of her throat.
Fuck, Neville could never, ever know about this.
Going behind his back to shampoo his mother's hair a few times a
week was one thing. Alice harming herself because
Pansy hadn't shown up for a few days was a whole other issue.
If he thought she'd somehow twisted this, made his mother
dependent upon her to use her in some way, she'd just have to
make sure he never found out. Pansy walked over and lifted
Alice's hands. I'm sorry, she said.
I didn't mean to cancel on Monday or today.
She squeezed her hands. I promise I won't let it happen
again next time. The Ministry surprised her,
she'd take the whole day off and come see Alice whenever it was
done and make sure Daphne never scheduled anything on her
Monday, Wednesday or Friday lunches again.
Alice didn't blink, didn't move, didn't react, but Pansy hoped
somewhere deep down she heard her.
She turned to Margaret and asked for a towel and headband.
She already had both at the ready, tears in her eyes.
She hoped the witch didn't start crying.
She was already hanging on by a thread and if Margaret lost it,
she didn't know what she would do.
You've spent years taking care of someone, thinking nothing
will ever change. And then the older witch brushed
underneath her eyes. You've been good for her, good
to her and good for her. She didn't know what she was
supposed to say. She wasn't used to being good,
not for or to anyone. Instead of responding, she
started working on getting the gum out of Alice's hair.
Even with the extra products from Madame Toussaint, it took
almost half an hour to get every last bit of gum out.
The least painful method of removal involved copious amounts
of oil, so Alice's hair was saturated with it by the time
she was done. That required several rounds of
shampooing to remove, but she tried to be as gentle as
possible the entire time. Alice hardly flinched.
Shampooing was never her favorite part, but every time
Pansy combed through her hair, she seemed to melt further into
the stool. Finally, Alice's hair was free
of gum, washed, conditioned, and dried thanks to the impromptu
oil treatment. It was the shiniest and softest
Pansy had ever seen it. Perhaps she should give it a try
now. The dry, cold November air was
starting to cause her signature black Bob to frizz.
She had less than 5 minutes to make it back to the shop before
her next appointment. She bent forward so she was
level with Alice's face, smoothing the locks of hair
around her face. I don't have time to go to the
courtyard today, I'm sorry, she said.
But I'll be back on Friday after lunch, and we'll go then, OK?
Margaret came up to take over for her.
Alice got down from the stool as instructed, but instead of
getting back into bed, walked to her night stand.
When she turned back around, there was a small pink scrap in
her hand. Pansy's breath caught, tears
springing to her eyes as Alice walked over, extending the
Drupal's blowing gum wrapper with one hand.
Alice reached up, tugged on a lock of Pansy's hair with the
other, trembling. Doing her best to swallow back
the tears, Pansy took the gum wrapper from her.
I promise, Alice, she said. I'll be back on Friday.
There was still no change, no flicker of recognition, but
Alice turned and walked back to her bed while the other healer
helped her. Swallowing, Pansy turned to
Margaret. My assistant mistakenly booked
my lunch on Friday as well, so I won't be able to make it in
until the afternoon, but I will be here.
Margaret nodded and squeezed her hand.
She'll be all right, dear. There was no time to linger, no
time to find a broom closet and sit down and sob in the dark for
a few minutes, not with an appointment next and an already
screwed over week. It didn't matter anyway.
Parkinson's did not cry. They didn't have emotional
breakdowns because a mentally unstable woman missed them and
gave away an empty gum wrapper. When Pansy finally swept into
the shop less than a minute late, Daphne shot her a stern
look and a pointed glare at the clock.
Fuck that. This was her shop and her life.
If Daphne had listened to her in the 1st place, none of this
would have happened. She marched straight up to the
counter. Do not ever book anything during
my lunch on Monday, Wednesday, or Fridays again.
Daphne blinked. What?
What happened? Do you understand?
Looking equal parts taken aback and offended at Pansy's tone,
Daphne stiffened. Whatever you say, Pansy, she
said, her voice clipped. Your 3:00 is here.
Spinning, she saw Maisie Reynolds watching the two of
them from the couch with wide eyes.
She forced an apologetic smile to her face.
Please forgive me for not being on time, I was dealing with a
family emergency. Her eyes widened.
Is never OK, right? Fucking DA.
Yes, of course it was nothing like that.
He's perfectly well. Oh, good.
A frown ended the look of relief on her face.
I'm sorry, is everything OK with your family?
She felt Daphne's eyes on the back of her, like a brand,
because she didn't have family, not even Neville.
She could feel the imprint of the Drupals wrapper in her
pocket, the sole sign that anyone would miss her, that
anyone would ever notice her absence or been distressed by
it. Everything is fine now.
Thank you for your patience and for being so understanding.
She gestured to the stand. Let's start with measurements
and then talk about what you're looking for.
The door swinging open surprised her.
Neville stood there later than usual, but well before she
usually went to bed. Hey, hi.
Awkward silence fell over the room.
It was the first time she'd talked to him since their fight
after Potter's visit on Monday. Rather than relive the awful
experience, she turned back to her sketchbook, working on the
designs from the day. Did you just get out of the
shower? She glanced up.
Neville had a particular look on his face she couldn't place.
No, she said, trying a treatment on my hair.
It has to set for another quarter hour or so, then I'm
going to wash it out. From a distance, it probably did
look wet. She pulled it back into two
French braids to let it set while she finished her designs.
Every which was different and yet they all had the same
desires. Hide this, emphasize that.
Never use these colours or those colours.
It was a difficult balance, but she relished each opportunity to
put each one in her best light, combining personal tastes with
the most fashionable looks into something her customers could
call their own. I don't think I've ever seen you
without make up on before. In lieu of the good cry she'd
needed all day, maybe since the day Ivan had shown up at her
home, she just scrubbed her face when she came home, done a skin
mask she'd only just washed off right before Neville came in.
Nothing like a full night of self pampering to help her feel
like herself again. Granted, herself pampering
evenings typically didn't include Neville Longbottom
showing up halfway through to judge her.
I assumed you'd be at the castle late.
Two days hardly counted as silent treatment.
Nah, later night because of apology club, but it went well
tonight. Lot of fun.
Good for you. She went back to the sketch.
How was your day? Her eyes flicked up.
What was this? They'd never chatted about their
days before. Perhaps he just needed a
reminder. An absolute shit show.
She said. Having to reschedule my Monday
morning threw off my entire week.
It'll take me at least another week to fully catch up.
Unless of course cancelling last minute on so many clients makes
them lose their confidence in me and they cancel their orders.
Did it run long? What, your appointment with
Harry on Monday? That was a nice spin on things
actually. Potter was rather quick about
the whole thing. She said.
Much shorter lecture this time. Normally, the auras like to
drive the betrayal point home. Why'd you reschedule your
clients when you had a meeting with Harry?
Oh, her sweet, innocent, naive husband believed she had a
choice. It's a surprise evaluation, she
said. I don't get any notice he found
why not? So I don't have time to hide all
the dark, evil things I get up to between meetings with the
Department of Law Enforcement. They can't do things that are
going to affect your business. She arched her eyebrows.
The same people who decided that a two week vacation was the best
punishment for the aura who skipped rounds the night my
store was vandalised. His face tightened.
She waited for him to say that she deserved that too, but he
changed the subject instead. Sorry I was late the past two
nights, he said. Had a couple of detentions.
Oh, she said anything fun? Missed homework?
Boring. You look really pretty, you
know. Her gaze snapped up.
Right now. He said without the makeup on.
Oh, Longbottom, don't start with the you don't need any makeup.
You're beautiful the way you are.
Routine. It's so cliche, the corner of
his mouth rose. You know you look knockout
gorgeous with it on, he said. But you look really pretty right
now too. She studied him, trying to
figure out what his goal was. There had to be a motive to it,
to him. Not really my luck, she said.
Finally. Make up clothing, accessories.
They were her armour, her shield against everyone who judged her,
who looked down upon her for who or what she was, who and what
she'd been raised to be, whether or not she wanted it.
Her wand buzzed as the timer she'd set for her hair went off.
Sorry, I can let you get back to whatever you need to.
Neville said. Enjoy your evening.
He disappeared into the guest room without another look back,
leaving her alone in the living room, once again questioning who
he was and what he actually thought of her.
I think it was OK. Her soft voice didn't carry far
in the empty courtyard, empty but for her and a silent Alice
Longbottom. Warming charms kept it
comfortable enough without a coat, but the vegetation had all
gone dormant for the winter, making it a rather depressing
sight. Two have wanted to save myself,
she said. I think it was OK.
Alice Longbottom, who had endured hours of torture of the
worst kind that left her insane and her son an orphan in all but
name, probably wasn't the one to confess that to.
But Pansy felt like she was burning up years of holding it
in, torn between wanting to scream the truth and bury it
deep. It was easy to let them all
think she was a monster when they didn't know the full truth.
Better than confessing everything she'd taken into
account that night, the plots known to no one but the Dark
Lord, her father and his closest advisers, only to find out that
it still wasn't enough, that they'd all still believed she
was evil. I had other ideas, other plans.
She said. The obvious was to get Granger
out of the way completely, leave Ginny to her fate.
Safest option by far. If Draco wouldn't marry her
after Granger's death, Theo would have needed her as much as
she needed him. A Parkinson, not Union, would
have been everything their fathers hoped for.
Celebrated by all. Considering how much Lucius had
fallen from the Dark Lord's favour by the end of the war,
her father likely would have preferred that much to one with
the Malfoys. It was the easiest, safest path
for her and Theo. But I was going to try to save
them instead. Does that, does that go away, or
just because I wanted to save myself as well?
Alice watched the dead leaves blow across the paved path.
Potter, Hermione, all the Weasleys, the whole Order.
They fought for their lives too, she said.
They said it was because it was the right thing to do, but it
was for them too. It had to have been.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she flicked it away.
Is it, is it so wrong that I wanted to survive as well?
That she had a backup plan in case Potter didn't triumph that
night, one that involved saving both his best friend and his
girlfriend from unthinkably horrific fates?
Even if the Dark Lord had allowed her, Granger, even if it
had all gone perfectly to plan, she wouldn't have been able to
treat her well, would have still had to play her part, at least
until Granger's brilliant mind found a way for the ball to
escape. But surely, surely all that
weighed out in the end. I suppose that's a rather
Slytherin opinion. She said that the ends justify
the means. She glanced over at Alice.
She offered no absolution, but then again, she wasn't the one
Pansy needed it from. Not that absolution would come
from any of the people who could actually grant it.
Before Neville, she hadn't cared what anyone thought of her.
The Order and Dumbledore's Army had all made-up their minds
about her long ago. Nothing was going to change
that. The day of her trial, they'd
barely asked her any more questions than Potter did on
Monday. Did she still swear allegiance
to the Dark Law or his causes? No.
Did she believe in or support the mass genocide of Muggles or
Muggleborns? No.
Did she believe muggles or muggleborns are inferior to pure
blood witches and Wizards? No.
Did she know it was the intention of the Dark Lord to
murder Harry Potter if he was handed over to him?
Obviously. Did she still intend to turn him
over anyway? Yes.
Did she regret her decision to turn him over to Voldemort?
No. That was the part where she
should have been able to speak for herself, to explain, defend,
to say exactly what her father had planned for Ginny Weasley,
what McNair was going to do to Hermione Granger, her plan to
save them from all of it. Instead, the Wisengemot had
slapped her with indefinite probation until she showed
sufficient remorse for her actions.
She'd been livid. Half the Wisengemot had fled
Britain once the Ministry fell, and yet they sat there judging
her. Fucking hypocrites.
Neville thinks I should tell them.
She told Alice. He doesn't even know the worst
of it. Would that be enough to change
his mind about her? He'd guessed it was more
complicated than what she'd said, but that long pause when
she'd asked if he thought she was a monster.
You think I probably should tell him?
She said, And take his advice about telling everyone else?
She glanced back at Alice. Isn't that what mother in law's
are supposed to do? Take their son's side in all
things over their daughter-in-law?
Although it wasn't just because Neville was her son.
Just about anyone with a conscience would take his side
over hers. I don't believe for a minute
Augusta ever took your side against Frank.
Even now, the man could do no wrong.
Perhaps more so. Augusta loved you too, though
she said said you were Frank's other half in every way.
So if she did ever give you shit, just know that you're now
her new standard. One Pansy certainly didn't meet.
Maybe we would have bonded over that.
In a world where Bellatrix had been locked up before she ever
got close to the Longbottoms, where Neville had chosen her,
Alice would have welcomed her into the family, happy as long
as her son was sheltered her, stood up to Augusta whenever she
needed a defender, whenever she needed a mother.
It was a beautiful dream, but just that because Bellatrix had
been there. Alice and Frank spent the past 2
1/2 decades in a permanent ward at Saint Mungo's.
Neville hadn't looked twice at her until he thought she needed
saving. Augusta didn't think she
deserved her grandson or anyone worth having.
Not the girl who tried to give up Harry Potter to the Dark
Lord. Still, for the next few minutes,
until Alice started to fidget in her signs to return to Frank,
Pansy sat and let herself dream.