RP: Stressed

[pb_hannah]

Characters: Hannah Abbott and open
Location: Leaky Cauldron
Date: 29 March 2000
Status: Public
Summary: Hannah stops by the Leaky after her shift to unwind and think.
Completion: Complete

Comments

[pb_pansy]

"If you're tired, it's a wonder you don't go home and sleep," Pansy observed from two stools down. She was sipping a somewhat poor elf-made wine for something to do beside the foolish notions she'd had in her head about writing a letter to Rabastan or sending another fantasy to Blaise.

[pb_hannah]

"And why don't you bite me, Parkinson?" Hannah disliked most Slytherins, her especially. She was an arrogant, pug faced tramp who had nothing better to do than make other people miserable and blindly follow the Dark Lord. Aside from the pain in the ass she'd been in school, their last year had been worse. Hannah would never forgive those active on the other side of the war, especially not someone like her.

Even as exhausted as she was, she was still awake enough to be a bitch. After all, spoiled brats did get on her last nerve. People who didn't earn their place in life had a lack of character.

[pb_pansy]

"Because I'd be likely to catch something, Abbott. I'm not sure you've had your shots." Her reply was accompanied by a look up and down. Hannah Abbott didn't dress any better now than she had at Hogwarts.

Pansy sniffed. "Dear Merlin, do you work in a distillery? I can smell you from here."

[pb_hannah]

"Oh, trust me, I haven't. Why else would I let you bite me?" Good lord, who was she trying to fool in that getup?

"Pretty much. I see you're working in a whorehouse. Makes sense. Malfoy found a real woman and I suppose you had nothing better to do, am I right?" Her voice was cool, if Parkinson thought that she'd get any sort of rise out of Hannah, she was wrong. Only stupid Gryffindor men did that and not very often.

Hannah could play like this all day. In fact, it would be fun.

"Tom, could I get that shot now, love?" She gave him a smile.

[pb_pansy]

"Why? If the rumors about you are correct, you'll let anyone bite you. Being a such a slag takes the inclusiveness of Hufflepuff House a little far, don't you think?" Then again, it wasn't as if Hufflepuffs were known for their discernment.

"All Draco Malfoy needed to find a real woman was a mirror." The hypocrite. Acting as if she was tainted for being forced to work among Muggles then fawning over that snaggle-haired Mudblood himself. Pansy looked over her tasteful, corseted dress. It was one of her own designs. "You wouldn't know fashion if it bit you on your granny knicker clad arse."

Pansy brought her fingers to her lips in mock horror. "Oh, did the mean Slytherin drive the pitiful Hufflepuff to drink already?" Abbott had no fortitude it appeared.

[pb_hannah]

She laughed. "Well, Pansy, Hufflepuffs do like to spread the love, so to speak. Why, does it offend you?" She asked, making a small, mock pout.

Rolling her eyes, Hannah took another drink. "Trust me, there are no granny knickers under here, would you like to see? I'm sure the boys here would love a show. Also, a woman needs real breasts to pull of that little get up there, in case you haven't heard. You are a little on the anorexic side and is that a new nose?"

She was going to have fun making fun of her later with Irish, if he ever got his head out of his arse.

"No, the Hufflepuff rather enjoys her drink, actually. It's the Irish blood, we need the liquor like most people need water," she informed her. Merlin, Slytherins needed new lines.

[pb_pansy]

"It's your life. You want to be a slag, who am I to stop you? Everyone needs to find their niche."

"You're not my type," Pansy replied. "I'd prefer not to look like a heifer. Yes, it is a new nose. At least I can afford to have work done."

Pansy wondered if changing their minds was a Hufflepuff trait as well. Pumpkin juice then switching to liquor. Calling her a whore then as much as admitting to being one Hannah's self. Certainly full of contradictions.

[pb_hannah]

"Hmm, but there is a difference between doing it for pay and doing it because you enjoy it," Hannah said, rolling her eyes. Her earlier exhaustion was creeping back in, the alcohol wasn't helping, but she hated leaving a bitch fest. And well, Pansy was a bitch, kind of like a dog, the way she used to follow Malfoy around.

"Well, Pansy, if you need work done, have at it. I'd get those thighs looked at too, they're a bit--disproportionate." She said, tossing down coins for Tom.

"Same time tomorrow Tom," she told him fondly, patting his hand.

"Now, I have better things to do, choke on that drink, will you, it'd make the world a better place not to have a panting bitch around. I suppose Tom here is your new obsession since Malfoy seems not to be. Do Tom a favor, go run under a bus." She told her, before grabbing her cloak and leaving the pub, a bit pleased. At least the night had been entertaining. In fact, her thoughts hadn't gone to her father once, good show.