Pansy (take 2)
Re-jigged version of "Pansy" to exclude Queenie Rothington and generally tighten up a few things.
"So, are you going to show us what Draco got you for your birthday, Pansy? Unless, of course, it's something a little too... private," Tracy raised one eyebrow and smirked at her friend, in a would-be sly and insinuating manner (unfortunately, as Blaise had once snidely commented to Theo, Tracy did insinuating about as well as a Flobberworm, not that one should ever think to compare the two, naturally. The competition would be far too unequal. Theo just smirked and remarked that Blaise probably did enough insinuating for the both of them).
"Yes, do," Daphne urged, looking disdainfully at a spot on the rug and poking at it cautiously to see if it was, in fact, an insect, in which case she could triumphantly point it out and suggest going back inside.
Pansy smirked at her friend, knowing exactly what was going though her mind. "What's wrong, Daphne? You haven't actually found a bug, have you? I'm sure I haven't seen one since we came out here. Theo's Anti-Ant and Mosquito-Muzzling spray has worked perfectly, so far as I can tell."
"Naturally," Theo grunted from the book into which he had retreated very early on in the afternoon, already tired of trying to be sociable. "It's the one we use every summer; I've been making it for years."
"Yes, well," Daphne sniffed, "You never can tell when a potion will decide to act unexpectedly."
She looked suspiciously at Blaise, who had only just managed to turn a laugh into an extended choking fit. The suspicion faded only slightly when Theo looked up briefly to pat his friend on the back and announce: "Drink gone down the wrong way."
This bit of by-play was the result of Daphne's most recent attempt at making her own hair potion out of a recipe she found in a magazine. While it had indeed made her hair "smell of flowers" and "shine with the freshness of spring," the end result was... a little green and looked a lot like honeysuckle. Buds and all. Thankfully Madame Pomfrey was able to put it right again with a minimum of fuss, but as all of the 5th year Slytherin girls had been there when she woke up in the morning, the story soon spread to the boys, who found the whole thing hilarious. Particularly as Daphne had never been good at Potions (the smells being enough to put any well-bred young lady off, in her opinion), while Draco, Theo and Blaise all enjoyed good marks in the class, thus being free to enjoy the mishap without fear of reprisal.
Pansy, while enjoying her friend's discomfort, felt that she had been out of the spotlight for quite long enough. "Well, I think our picnic has been a great success. These top of the range Picnic-Blankets are definitely worth the extra Galleons. An excellent range of food supplied, a good size and so comfortable you'd never believe you were sitting on the ground," she caressed the rug affectionately, which softened under her touch. "Thank you all for celebrating my birthday with me. It's a shame the other boys had Quidditch practice; I still can't see why they couldn't arrange it for some other time," she continued peevishly, "but I suppose it couldn't be helped. I'm sure Draco did all he could." She looked briefly in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, catching just a glimpse of seven green streaks in the air over the stadium. She was sure she could make out Draco even from this distance- he really was a very noticeable kind of person. Squint though she did, the other blurs remained blurry and indistinguishable.
"I'm certain he did," Tracy said comfortingly, and the others muttered agreement.
To be fair, Pansy supposed it was quite an achievement even to get everyone out who wasn't involved in the Quidditch (and she was still half convinced that the timing of that had been deliberate. Not that she cared, of course, but she'd have thought Draco at least would have been thoughtful enough to arrange to come to keep up appearances. She'd hardly seen him all day.) Still, she wasn't her mother's daughter for nothing; she knew how to organise people. Even if said people did include Milicent, who was... generally taciturn (Pansy thought that phrased it tactfully enough, for a girl who barely grunted out a hello when she saw you. It really was a wonder she'd got so far up the school, considering how rarely she managed to even answer the teachers properly. Still, she was a Slytherin and a pure-blood so it was best to be tactful about these.. minor lapses), Theo and Blaise, who were definitely out under protest (Theo had given up entirely on being sociable an hour or so into the afternoon and had been reading ever since, with Blaise mostly trying to pretend he wasn't peering over his friend's shoulder, and clearly regretting not having thought to bring a book himself) and, well, the rest of them were ok she supposed. At least the Quidditch practice had removed the need to watch Crabbe and Goyle eat (she had long since given up referring to them by their first names. Nobody else did and their confusion at being so address made her suspect... well, it would probably cause less confusion all round if she stuck to surnames), since their table manners still set her to shuddering even five years on.
Tracey clearly came to a sudden realisation that her original question had still not been answered. Accordingly she said as persuasively as she possibly could: "Oh come on, Pans! Don't be such a spoil-sport! Do show us what Draco got you."
Thus urged, Pansy reached down the neckline of her robes (prompting Blaise to wonder aloud to Theo if it really were something a little... private) and pulled out a necklace (Theo rolled his eyes at having been made to lose his place on the page for a necklace, of all things).
Tracey and Daphne gasped in unison. Pansy smiled smugly at their reaction.
Tracey recovered her breath first. "But it's beautiful, Pansy! So thoughtful! He must have spent ages sorting it all out, getting it made and so on. Most boys our age wouldn't bother, I'm sure," This last with a pointed look at Theo, with whom she had technically been going out for half of last year, until she had rather noisily split with him, declaring he simply wasn't worth her wasting her time on. She had tried to tell herself she had imagined the look of relief on his face afterwards. The look was completely wasted on the cover of the book that was currently obscuring Theo's face. Tracey tossed her head and continued, "He must really care about you to spend so much effort, time and money on your present. I mean, he never asks us for help or anything!"
Pansy's smile remained pasted on her naturally rather smug face. "He is rather a dear," she said smoothly.
Daphne raised her eyebrows. "A dear? What ever have you been reading lately? He's a find, and you know it. Rich, clever, handsome, confident, poised to follow in his father's footsteps... and apparently crazy about you, or at the very least willing to play the part very well indeed. He's perfect for you; King and Queen of Slytherin they'll call you at the wedding, I don't doubt."
"Do you love him?" Tracey wanted to know, her eyes fixed greedily on Pansy's face.
Pansy snorted derisively. "Love? What are you, a Hufflepuff?" She forced a laugh as the others tittered at Tracey's discomfort, and the girl in question tried to stop herself from turning a rather Gryffindor shade of red.
Tracey tossed her head proudly. "What's so 'Puff-ish about love? There's no rule against it, is there? My parents were a love match, I know. Although," she added hastily, "of course they'd never have married if they hadn't been a match socially as well."
Pansy looked at her friend with a careful blend of pity and scorn on her rather pug-like face, acutely conscious of Tracey and Daphne hanging on her every word. "Love is just a pretty little fairytale," she scoffed, willing Blaise to stop looking at her with that odd little smile playing on his lips. "Draco and I are a perfect match socially, we get on well and it suits both of our families that we should marry. It's been informally arranged since we were both tiny; love just doesn't enter into the equation in the slightest," she ended loftily.
Tracy still looked unconviced. "But, if you fall in love anyway... Where's the harm? Surely that would just make it all the more perfect, wouldn't it?" She shrugged. "That's what I think anyway."
Pansy tried not to appear to be hesitating, knowing all too well that all eyes were now on her (except Theo's, which were ever more firmly fixed on his book that he was apparently hoping would act as a shield against anyone wanting to hear his opionion on the subject at hand) and flicking away an imaginary piece of dirt before she spoke. "But who would want to be in love? It only makes you vulnerable and I can't see it's of any use socially or in any... respectable... career." There, she thought viciously, That should make Blaise think twice about trying to get at me. His mother's a disgrace, the number of husbands she's been through, however rich she may be.
Blaise's lips twitched but he showed no other outward sign that he had registered Pansy's thrust. Expression haughty and indifferent, he asked languidly: "Is this if both parties are... in love, or just the one? It would make a difference, I suppose?"
Hard as she tried not to react, Pansy's breath caught in her throat. She didn't think anyone had noticed, not that most of them would. Most of the Slytherins in her year were distinctly unsociable, in one way or another. Either they were too selfish or self-involved to really know what anyone else felt or thought, or they were too stupid, or just plain not interested. Tracey could be observant if she wanted to be, but was too subservient to really go against anything Pansy, as clear leader of the girls, said. Other than her, there was really just Blaise. Who watched everything and everyone with that same haughty expression on his handsome face and never, ever let on what he saw. Who probably knew a lot more than anyone realised. Who would probably never tell anyone, even if he did know, unless he saw a clear advantage in it.
After only half a second's hesitation, she replied with a disdainful shrug of her shoulders. "Naturally, even an idiot should be able to see that. A couple in love will block out the world and never get anything done. Ridiculous situation, but there you are."
"And just one?" Blaise prompted, still with that funny little smile ghosting his lips, checking the blanket behind him before settling back into a graceful pose, leaning on his elbows so as not to crease his robes.
Oh Merlin, Pansy realised suddenly, he does know. It was through a dry mouth and over a suddenly beating heart that the pug-faced girl had to reply with the calm, smug tone that came so easily to her; "That would be worse, clearly. Then one person would be completely at the other's mercy, vulnerable to anything the other carelessly or deliberately said or did. A dreadful situation, I'm sure. A complete lack of power and self-possession when the other person was around. Far too much potential for jealousy, fights... general problems. That's why I'm so glad," here she looked directly at Blaise, proudly, almost defiantly, "That nothing like that is ever likely to mar mine and Draco's relationship. A business-like arrangement is much more sensible, I'm sure you all agree."
The others murmured agreement. Blaise inclined his head towards her. "Aren't you lucky," was all he said by way of response, his smooth chocolate-brown eyes, far too knowing, far too amused, still on hers.
"Will you get formally engaged soon, Pans?" Daphne asked, trying to see if her arms were tanning as she spoke. It wouldn't do at all to ruin her fair complexion, after all. Some Sun Fan, No Tan ("Excellent at remedying any freckle, burn or tan! Essential for any outdoor excursion!") would definitely be necessary just as soon as she could convince the others to move back indoors.
"Mother and Father are adamant that we won't do anything until I'm eighteen, so a couple of years yet. I expect it will be formalised on my eighteenth birthday and then we'll be married sometime in the year after we graduate. There's no real point to a long engagement, after all."
"You really have got it all sorted out, haven't you?" Tracey said admiringly (and a little enviously) to her friend.
Pansy just smiled in a self-satisfied manner, deliberately not catching Blaise's eye.
Milicent suddenly spoke, surprising them all and making Daphne, who had always been a little wary of the big girl, jump. "Shouldn't we be going in? Supper's about to start."
"Oh, is that the time? We really ought go back indoors. Such a shame," thus Daphne, her tone belying her words.
"Yes, of course. Qudditch practice looks to be nearly over and the sun's beginning to go down as well. I suppose we should be getting back," Pansy, trying not to be too obviously relieved at the change of subject, summoned a house-elf with a click of her fingers and told the little creature to take the blanket back inside and clean it before returning it to her room. "And be careful with it," she admonished, "it's very expensive. I will not be impressed if it is returned to my room in anything less than pristine condition. It would mean severe punishment, but I'm sure I don't need to tell you that, do I?" She ended sweetly.
"No, miss," the creature squeaked out, looking frightened, before popping back to the castle, taking the Picnic-Blanket with it.
"House-elves," Pansy sighed, "Necessary things of course, but you do have to keep an eye on them or who knows what they'd do!"
The others agreed in suitably indignant terms, and the chatter about house-elves and their shortcomings lasted them until they were back in their common room once more.
That night, when Pansy finally went up to bed just a little before the other girls, saying she was tired and wanted a shower before bed, she sat at her little dressing table, carefully removed the necklace from around her neck and laid it in its box. It really was a princely gift; a tiny green snake picked out in emeralds on a background of diamonds, showing an interlinked "P" and "D." The necklace itself was silver, naturally. As Draco had said to her only that morning, Narcissa Malfoy really did have excellent taste. She had gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange a gift Draco could give to Pansy on her sixteenth birthday, even sending it properly gift-wrapped. All her son had to do was hand over the gift. Minimum fuss possible in fact, by far the best way of doing it. Draco himself wouldn't have had a clue what to get, he'd said with that arrogant toss of his head that meant the light would play over his hair in the candlelight that they used in the mornings and evenings in their dungeon. It gave him a kind of fiery halo, like an avenging angel, and always made her heart beat faster.
Yes, it was a good thing she didn't love him. He was far too self-centred to ever notice or love her back.
"So, are you going to show us what Draco got you for your birthday, Pansy? Unless, of course, it's something a little too... private," Tracy raised one eyebrow and smirked at her friend, in a would-be sly and insinuating manner (unfortunately, as Blaise had once snidely commented to Theo, Tracy did insinuating about as well as a Flobberworm, not that one should ever think to compare the two, naturally. The competition would be far too unequal. Theo just smirked and remarked that Blaise probably did enough insinuating for the both of them).
"Yes, do," Daphne urged, looking disdainfully at a spot on the rug and poking at it cautiously to see if it was, in fact, an insect, in which case she could triumphantly point it out and suggest going back inside.
Pansy smirked at her friend, knowing exactly what was going though her mind. "What's wrong, Daphne? You haven't actually found a bug, have you? I'm sure I haven't seen one since we came out here. Theo's Anti-Ant and Mosquito-Muzzling spray has worked perfectly, so far as I can tell."
"Naturally," Theo grunted from the book into which he had retreated very early on in the afternoon, already tired of trying to be sociable. "It's the one we use every summer; I've been making it for years."
"Yes, well," Daphne sniffed, "You never can tell when a potion will decide to act unexpectedly."
She looked suspiciously at Blaise, who had only just managed to turn a laugh into an extended choking fit. The suspicion faded only slightly when Theo looked up briefly to pat his friend on the back and announce: "Drink gone down the wrong way."
This bit of by-play was the result of Daphne's most recent attempt at making her own hair potion out of a recipe she found in a magazine. While it had indeed made her hair "smell of flowers" and "shine with the freshness of spring," the end result was... a little green and looked a lot like honeysuckle. Buds and all. Thankfully Madame Pomfrey was able to put it right again with a minimum of fuss, but as all of the 5th year Slytherin girls had been there when she woke up in the morning, the story soon spread to the boys, who found the whole thing hilarious. Particularly as Daphne had never been good at Potions (the smells being enough to put any well-bred young lady off, in her opinion), while Draco, Theo and Blaise all enjoyed good marks in the class, thus being free to enjoy the mishap without fear of reprisal.
Pansy, while enjoying her friend's discomfort, felt that she had been out of the spotlight for quite long enough. "Well, I think our picnic has been a great success. These top of the range Picnic-Blankets are definitely worth the extra Galleons. An excellent range of food supplied, a good size and so comfortable you'd never believe you were sitting on the ground," she caressed the rug affectionately, which softened under her touch. "Thank you all for celebrating my birthday with me. It's a shame the other boys had Quidditch practice; I still can't see why they couldn't arrange it for some other time," she continued peevishly, "but I suppose it couldn't be helped. I'm sure Draco did all he could." She looked briefly in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, catching just a glimpse of seven green streaks in the air over the stadium. She was sure she could make out Draco even from this distance- he really was a very noticeable kind of person. Squint though she did, the other blurs remained blurry and indistinguishable.
"I'm certain he did," Tracy said comfortingly, and the others muttered agreement.
To be fair, Pansy supposed it was quite an achievement even to get everyone out who wasn't involved in the Quidditch (and she was still half convinced that the timing of that had been deliberate. Not that she cared, of course, but she'd have thought Draco at least would have been thoughtful enough to arrange to come to keep up appearances. She'd hardly seen him all day.) Still, she wasn't her mother's daughter for nothing; she knew how to organise people. Even if said people did include Milicent, who was... generally taciturn (Pansy thought that phrased it tactfully enough, for a girl who barely grunted out a hello when she saw you. It really was a wonder she'd got so far up the school, considering how rarely she managed to even answer the teachers properly. Still, she was a Slytherin and a pure-blood so it was best to be tactful about these.. minor lapses), Theo and Blaise, who were definitely out under protest (Theo had given up entirely on being sociable an hour or so into the afternoon and had been reading ever since, with Blaise mostly trying to pretend he wasn't peering over his friend's shoulder, and clearly regretting not having thought to bring a book himself) and, well, the rest of them were ok she supposed. At least the Quidditch practice had removed the need to watch Crabbe and Goyle eat (she had long since given up referring to them by their first names. Nobody else did and their confusion at being so address made her suspect... well, it would probably cause less confusion all round if she stuck to surnames), since their table manners still set her to shuddering even five years on.
Tracey clearly came to a sudden realisation that her original question had still not been answered. Accordingly she said as persuasively as she possibly could: "Oh come on, Pans! Don't be such a spoil-sport! Do show us what Draco got you."
Thus urged, Pansy reached down the neckline of her robes (prompting Blaise to wonder aloud to Theo if it really were something a little... private) and pulled out a necklace (Theo rolled his eyes at having been made to lose his place on the page for a necklace, of all things).
Tracey and Daphne gasped in unison. Pansy smiled smugly at their reaction.
Tracey recovered her breath first. "But it's beautiful, Pansy! So thoughtful! He must have spent ages sorting it all out, getting it made and so on. Most boys our age wouldn't bother, I'm sure," This last with a pointed look at Theo, with whom she had technically been going out for half of last year, until she had rather noisily split with him, declaring he simply wasn't worth her wasting her time on. She had tried to tell herself she had imagined the look of relief on his face afterwards. The look was completely wasted on the cover of the book that was currently obscuring Theo's face. Tracey tossed her head and continued, "He must really care about you to spend so much effort, time and money on your present. I mean, he never asks us for help or anything!"
Pansy's smile remained pasted on her naturally rather smug face. "He is rather a dear," she said smoothly.
Daphne raised her eyebrows. "A dear? What ever have you been reading lately? He's a find, and you know it. Rich, clever, handsome, confident, poised to follow in his father's footsteps... and apparently crazy about you, or at the very least willing to play the part very well indeed. He's perfect for you; King and Queen of Slytherin they'll call you at the wedding, I don't doubt."
"Do you love him?" Tracey wanted to know, her eyes fixed greedily on Pansy's face.
Pansy snorted derisively. "Love? What are you, a Hufflepuff?" She forced a laugh as the others tittered at Tracey's discomfort, and the girl in question tried to stop herself from turning a rather Gryffindor shade of red.
Tracey tossed her head proudly. "What's so 'Puff-ish about love? There's no rule against it, is there? My parents were a love match, I know. Although," she added hastily, "of course they'd never have married if they hadn't been a match socially as well."
Pansy looked at her friend with a careful blend of pity and scorn on her rather pug-like face, acutely conscious of Tracey and Daphne hanging on her every word. "Love is just a pretty little fairytale," she scoffed, willing Blaise to stop looking at her with that odd little smile playing on his lips. "Draco and I are a perfect match socially, we get on well and it suits both of our families that we should marry. It's been informally arranged since we were both tiny; love just doesn't enter into the equation in the slightest," she ended loftily.
Tracy still looked unconviced. "But, if you fall in love anyway... Where's the harm? Surely that would just make it all the more perfect, wouldn't it?" She shrugged. "That's what I think anyway."
Pansy tried not to appear to be hesitating, knowing all too well that all eyes were now on her (except Theo's, which were ever more firmly fixed on his book that he was apparently hoping would act as a shield against anyone wanting to hear his opionion on the subject at hand) and flicking away an imaginary piece of dirt before she spoke. "But who would want to be in love? It only makes you vulnerable and I can't see it's of any use socially or in any... respectable... career." There, she thought viciously, That should make Blaise think twice about trying to get at me. His mother's a disgrace, the number of husbands she's been through, however rich she may be.
Blaise's lips twitched but he showed no other outward sign that he had registered Pansy's thrust. Expression haughty and indifferent, he asked languidly: "Is this if both parties are... in love, or just the one? It would make a difference, I suppose?"
Hard as she tried not to react, Pansy's breath caught in her throat. She didn't think anyone had noticed, not that most of them would. Most of the Slytherins in her year were distinctly unsociable, in one way or another. Either they were too selfish or self-involved to really know what anyone else felt or thought, or they were too stupid, or just plain not interested. Tracey could be observant if she wanted to be, but was too subservient to really go against anything Pansy, as clear leader of the girls, said. Other than her, there was really just Blaise. Who watched everything and everyone with that same haughty expression on his handsome face and never, ever let on what he saw. Who probably knew a lot more than anyone realised. Who would probably never tell anyone, even if he did know, unless he saw a clear advantage in it.
After only half a second's hesitation, she replied with a disdainful shrug of her shoulders. "Naturally, even an idiot should be able to see that. A couple in love will block out the world and never get anything done. Ridiculous situation, but there you are."
"And just one?" Blaise prompted, still with that funny little smile ghosting his lips, checking the blanket behind him before settling back into a graceful pose, leaning on his elbows so as not to crease his robes.
Oh Merlin, Pansy realised suddenly, he does know. It was through a dry mouth and over a suddenly beating heart that the pug-faced girl had to reply with the calm, smug tone that came so easily to her; "That would be worse, clearly. Then one person would be completely at the other's mercy, vulnerable to anything the other carelessly or deliberately said or did. A dreadful situation, I'm sure. A complete lack of power and self-possession when the other person was around. Far too much potential for jealousy, fights... general problems. That's why I'm so glad," here she looked directly at Blaise, proudly, almost defiantly, "That nothing like that is ever likely to mar mine and Draco's relationship. A business-like arrangement is much more sensible, I'm sure you all agree."
The others murmured agreement. Blaise inclined his head towards her. "Aren't you lucky," was all he said by way of response, his smooth chocolate-brown eyes, far too knowing, far too amused, still on hers.
"Will you get formally engaged soon, Pans?" Daphne asked, trying to see if her arms were tanning as she spoke. It wouldn't do at all to ruin her fair complexion, after all. Some Sun Fan, No Tan ("Excellent at remedying any freckle, burn or tan! Essential for any outdoor excursion!") would definitely be necessary just as soon as she could convince the others to move back indoors.
"Mother and Father are adamant that we won't do anything until I'm eighteen, so a couple of years yet. I expect it will be formalised on my eighteenth birthday and then we'll be married sometime in the year after we graduate. There's no real point to a long engagement, after all."
"You really have got it all sorted out, haven't you?" Tracey said admiringly (and a little enviously) to her friend.
Pansy just smiled in a self-satisfied manner, deliberately not catching Blaise's eye.
Milicent suddenly spoke, surprising them all and making Daphne, who had always been a little wary of the big girl, jump. "Shouldn't we be going in? Supper's about to start."
"Oh, is that the time? We really ought go back indoors. Such a shame," thus Daphne, her tone belying her words.
"Yes, of course. Qudditch practice looks to be nearly over and the sun's beginning to go down as well. I suppose we should be getting back," Pansy, trying not to be too obviously relieved at the change of subject, summoned a house-elf with a click of her fingers and told the little creature to take the blanket back inside and clean it before returning it to her room. "And be careful with it," she admonished, "it's very expensive. I will not be impressed if it is returned to my room in anything less than pristine condition. It would mean severe punishment, but I'm sure I don't need to tell you that, do I?" She ended sweetly.
"No, miss," the creature squeaked out, looking frightened, before popping back to the castle, taking the Picnic-Blanket with it.
"House-elves," Pansy sighed, "Necessary things of course, but you do have to keep an eye on them or who knows what they'd do!"
The others agreed in suitably indignant terms, and the chatter about house-elves and their shortcomings lasted them until they were back in their common room once more.
That night, when Pansy finally went up to bed just a little before the other girls, saying she was tired and wanted a shower before bed, she sat at her little dressing table, carefully removed the necklace from around her neck and laid it in its box. It really was a princely gift; a tiny green snake picked out in emeralds on a background of diamonds, showing an interlinked "P" and "D." The necklace itself was silver, naturally. As Draco had said to her only that morning, Narcissa Malfoy really did have excellent taste. She had gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange a gift Draco could give to Pansy on her sixteenth birthday, even sending it properly gift-wrapped. All her son had to do was hand over the gift. Minimum fuss possible in fact, by far the best way of doing it. Draco himself wouldn't have had a clue what to get, he'd said with that arrogant toss of his head that meant the light would play over his hair in the candlelight that they used in the mornings and evenings in their dungeon. It gave him a kind of fiery halo, like an avenging angel, and always made her heart beat faster.
Yes, it was a good thing she didn't love him. He was far too self-centred to ever notice or love her back.