(no subject)
"It wasn't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands, I even knew they were dead."--Cell Block Tango, Chicago
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Pansy is a type of flower and a shade of violet. It is also a derogatory term for men, implying that they are "sissies". When I'm done with the name, it will be one of the highest compliments that can be afforded a man.
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Pansy Parkinson is the queen bee of Slytherin house. She is behind the scenes in absolutely everything, her dark brunette bob peeking up from even the most unlikely of corners. She's been discovered everywhere and with everyone, pretty much.
And yet everyone says they have her a virgin... well, I suppose that is Pansy. Pansy is a dear friend of mine, else I would not know that fact. She likes to keep her knowledge a secret. I heard from Draco that she learned the spell from his mum, and I wouldn't be surprised. Draco's mum is a very interesting lady, to say the least. She's fascinating enough for me, Blaise Zabini, at any rate. I only wish I could have a chance at her.
Pansy is a good thing. A very good thing, for anyone doing anything.
That simple fact reaches everyone--even Dark Lords.
So when the recruitment letter was dropped in her morning porridge, I wasn't really very surprised, though I, of course, acted as though it came as a shock to me. Everyone did, even Draco and we all know he knew something about it. How she would answer the letter...
That's something only she could tell you. Possibly Draco, as he knows almost everything about everyone. He probably knows the inner workings of Pansy's mind.
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Contrary to Blaise's opinion, I do not know the *inner workings* of Pansy's mind, nor do I wish to know them. She is a private person, and I respect that about her. We are simply friends now though, so I have no real desire to control her at the moment. I do hope she survives initiation without rejection. She is simply too fragile to handle that kind of rejection.
Well, so are most fully grown wizards, but I would not wish it of a friend.
Yes, I did know that she would soon be recruited, but I did not know how soon. The day after my father mentioned it to me it occurred. Usually I know things far beforehand. Perhaps Pansy was a special case. Mother always appreciated her; she probably put in a good word. Mother knows exactly where to place her words and exactly how to place them. If I could be as verbally proficient as her, I would be quite escatic. I would also be quite the actor and public speaker.
I think Pansy would do well in the Death Eaters. She's bright enough, and sneaky, too. She'd make a name for herself in an instant, and, if I know her, keep it. She is called "Perfect Pansy" for a reason.
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I don't often push my hand, so she should be grateful.
--Narcissa to Lucius, letter dated October 4, 1996
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How could you tell me that I was wrong?
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Initiation draws nearer now, and I'm almost beside myself with worry. I must succeed. At this, of all things, I must succeed. My very life depends on it, but it is something I do want. It something I never dreamed of, but the more I think of it, the more it calls to me. And it certainly is my calling, there are no doubts there.
I would love to be another "Bellatrix Black" to the Death Eaters. I am made of old blood and strong bones and I can prove myself quite capably. I have always been rather adept at dueling. I must accomplish this if I ever want to gain the kind of notoriety I've always craved.
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The hour draws closer. I can count the seconds now: five, four, three, two...
one,
and I am whisked away by hidden Portkey to a chateau in France where He awaits.
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There are some with the drive to succeed.
There are some with the power, but not the ambition.
This test will separate them.
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"Avada Kedavra." It is a statement; it doesn't need to be an exclamation.
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I am ready...
I am... fine...
(colourblind)
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Pansy is a type of flower and a shade of violet. It is also a derogatory term for men, implying that they are "sissies". It is now a complimentary term implying something along the lines of power and poison.
Some say evil and malice, but I say merely a sort of corrupted power, one that lies beneath the surface, waiting.