Fanfiction: Love in Times of War (Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson, PG-13)
The Reveals have gone up so I am claiming my story!
Title: Love in Times of War
Author: evening12
Beta: Big thanks to icicle33 and yeaka
Recipient: writcraft
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Summary: That Defence Against the Dark Arts class changed everything for Ginny.
Content/Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *dark themes, non-graphic torture*
Word Count: ~1,700
Author's Notes: This story was originally written for writcraft during femmefest exchange 2013, and can be found right here.
They say that love can blossom in the harshest of conditions, and I fully believe that to be true. Love does not begin and end the way we think it does. There is no proper way to do love. There is no proper way to be in love. And there is no proper way to fall in love. Sometimes, that love can take you by surprise. You don’t always fall in love with who you want to. And that doesn’t always matter because love can be at times both ugly and beautiful.
Educational Decree N°30: All witches and wizards between the ages of 11 and 17 must attend Hogwarts.
September 1997
Unlike previous years when professors added trinkets to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Carrow had kept the room bare except for the chalkboard. While ushering in a handful of students from the back room, Carrow began the class without introductions.
“What you are lacking is practical experience. And the best way to gain experience is by challenging yourselves.”
Carrow dragged one of the students he brought to the front of the class. From the size of him, he must have been a first year.
“The Cruciatus Curse, anyone?”
Holding the boy by the collar of his shirt, Carrow stood there waiting for someone to step forward. Even though she wanted to speak up, Ginny knew that too much was at stake for her to become involved. She simply couldn’t afford it. Her parents had enough to worry about with Percy being gone from home, Ron being out there with Harry, and Order business. Ginny gripped her wand, wishing that she could do something. Anything.
“Anyone?”
When it seemed that no one would comply with Carrow’s request, Parkinson made her way to the front of the class. Ginny looked on as Parkinson pointed her wand at the boy and whispered the Cruciatus Curse. The boy’s body bent in unnatural ways as Parkinson kept her wand steady. Unlike the students who looked away, Parkinson looked on - her wand only wavering a bit. The boy’s screams filled the classroom until Carrow placed a Silencing Charm over the boy.
October 1997
Warm sunny days - Ginny cherished them this year. They were the only times that she felt at ease. Students smiled and laughed more. Hogwarts felt more like itself during those days; almost as if Snape wasn’t Headmaster.
Straightening her skirt one last time, Ginny headed to Hagrid’s hut when she noticed someone walking towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Getting as close as possible, Ginny hid behind a tree and cast a quick Notice-Me-Not Charm. That Slytherin green scarf combined with that bob cut could only belong to Parkinson. Parkinson took out a book from her bag and sat down against the trunk of a tree.
That day in Defence Against the Dark Arts had stayed with Ginny. Ginny had seen little emotion in Parkinson. But as Parkinson read on, Ginny caught her smiling. A real smile. The kind that were so rarely seen at Hogwarts this year. Ginny had never payed attention to Parkinson’s smiles before. Parkinson had always just been another one of those Slytherin girls.
Here in the forest, without any reminders of house rivalries and the war, Ginny took the time to look at Parkinson. Parkinson had changed this year. If anything, Parkinson looked more like herself. Her brown shoulder length hair and had been cut into an asymmetrical bob. Unlike most of the girls who wore skirts with their blouses, Parkinson wore grey trousers. If Ginny were to admit it to herself, she’d say that Parkinson looked nice.
November 1997
It had become somewhat of a habit for Ginny to follow Parkinson to the edge of the Forbidden Forest after their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. The more Ginny observed Parkinson, the more Ginny realized that she quite liked watching Parkinson.
Ginny noticed how Parkinson folded the corner of her page to keep her place in the book. When Parkinson tucked her hair behind her ear, Ginny noticed a pale scar on Parkinson’s neck. Like every other time, Parkinson sat down with her back against a tree trunk, pulled out a book, and read until the sun started to set. Sitting there right alone, Parkinson didn’t seem so bad. There was something fascinating about watching Parkinson.
Autumn started to give way to winter when Ginny received her first detention. Unlike Neville who collected detentions like chocolate frog cards, Ginny had managed to avoid them this term. But when she saw the cuts and bruises on a student coming from a detention with Carrow, Ginny had snapped. She’d had enough. Fellow Gryffindors had cheered Ginny up after she hexed Carrow with her best Bat-Bogey Hex. Snape had intervened and assigned Ginny detention.
The Carrows were notorious for their detentions, and for that, Ginny was grateful that her detention was served writing lines under the supervision of a prefect. A single desk and two chairs had been added to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to make it suited for detention. Instead of Carrow, Parkinson stood watch over the classroom.
“Quill and parchment are on the desk. And don’t look so surprised, Weasley. Headmaster Snape assigned me your detention.”
Before sitting down across from Ginny, Parkinson charmed the clock to announce when an hour had passed. A book in hand, Parkinson made herself comfortable. Ginny knew exactly what kind of detention this was to be. Umbridge held similar ones.
She let out a gasp of pain as the first line cut into the back of her right hand. Again and again, the words cut into the back of Ginny’s hand, healed, and then reappeared the next time she wrote a line. And on it went. As Ginny wrote more and the pain grew, she decided to focus on one thing in the room. And in a room filled with almost nothing, Parkinson was the only thing worthy of attention.
There was something about Parkinson. Ginny had never thought women to be attractive. Some, like Fleur, were beautiful, but Ginny had never been attracted to them. But Parkinson had a presence. Ginny watched Parkinson bite her lower lip as she turned the page of her book. After a particularly painful line, Ginny stifled a whimper. By the end, the skin had healed over, leaving the place where the lines had been written red and not quite smooth.
The clock announced the hour and Ginny dropped the quill. Pain seared through her hand as she stretched her fingers. Standing from her seat, Parkinson stretched and her blouse hitched up revealing a bit of skin. Parkinson walked to Ginny’s desk and placed a pot on the corner of it.
“For you. It’s a salve of Murtlap Essence for the cut.”
Ginny turned the pot over in her hands, slowly opening it. She dipped her fingers in the salve, keeping her eyes on Parkinson.
“You know, being a Slytherin doesn’t mean being heartless, Weasley.”
December 1997
The holidays had been a rather tense affair. Percy’s refusal to come home only made Mum sadder. The holidays lacked their usual cheerfulness. A bit like Hogwarts. The red and gold colours seemed duller. With the Order on high alert, Charlie and Bill only came by twice during the entire break. The house felt empty. And there still hadn’t been any word from Ron.
January and February 1998
“Again Weasley? I’m starting to think that you rather enjoy this.”
By now, the markings on Ginny’s right hand had become permanent. Wand work was sometimes a bit difficult after detention, but Ginny supposed that this was much better than having Carrow supervise her detention. Ginny smiled when she noticed the pot of salve on her desk.
The words cut into her hand as soon as Ginny wrote her first line. The skin healed, like always, leaving the place where it had been redder than before. Again and again, Ginny cut into her hand.
Ginny’s thoughts wandered to Parkinson. Were they friends? No, not exactly but Ginny sometimes rather liked Parkinson’s company. Parkinson was all sorts of stubbornness and confidence. Ginny would never agree with Parkinson’s stance on the war but did that make Parkinson the enemy? No, no Ginny couldn’t hate Parkinson for surviving. Ginny couldn’t hate Parkinson.
Hogwarts had become a whirlwind of detentions and Dumbledore’s Army activities. And Pansy. Hogwarts had become filled with memories of Pansy.
May 1998
Word of Harry's arrival travelled quickly among the members’ of Dumbledore's Army, until Ginny heard the news from Colin. Ginny knew what she had to do, but that didn't matter right now. She needed to find Pansy. She needed to tell her. Ginny found Pansy sitting against the one-eye witch statue by the stairs to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and reading her book. There was so much she wanted to say to her; "I think I might care for you", “stay safe”, or even "stay with me".
“Thank you for this year. I...just thank you.”
Pansy didn’t look up from her book, but she smiled as she turned the page.
“Next time, how about you try not to have detention, Weasley. It might be nice for change, you know.”
Ginny took one last look at Pansy, turned away and left for war, hoping against all odds that Pansy would come back into her life.
Title: Love in Times of War
Author: evening12
Beta: Big thanks to icicle33 and yeaka
Recipient: writcraft
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson
Summary: That Defence Against the Dark Arts class changed everything for Ginny.
Content/Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *dark themes, non-graphic torture*
Word Count: ~1,700
Author's Notes: This story was originally written for writcraft during femmefest exchange 2013, and can be found right here.
They say that love can blossom in the harshest of conditions, and I fully believe that to be true. Love does not begin and end the way we think it does. There is no proper way to do love. There is no proper way to be in love. And there is no proper way to fall in love. Sometimes, that love can take you by surprise. You don’t always fall in love with who you want to. And that doesn’t always matter because love can be at times both ugly and beautiful.
Educational Decree N°30: All witches and wizards between the ages of 11 and 17 must attend Hogwarts.
September 1997
Unlike previous years when professors added trinkets to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Carrow had kept the room bare except for the chalkboard. While ushering in a handful of students from the back room, Carrow began the class without introductions.
“What you are lacking is practical experience. And the best way to gain experience is by challenging yourselves.”
Carrow dragged one of the students he brought to the front of the class. From the size of him, he must have been a first year.
“The Cruciatus Curse, anyone?”
Holding the boy by the collar of his shirt, Carrow stood there waiting for someone to step forward. Even though she wanted to speak up, Ginny knew that too much was at stake for her to become involved. She simply couldn’t afford it. Her parents had enough to worry about with Percy being gone from home, Ron being out there with Harry, and Order business. Ginny gripped her wand, wishing that she could do something. Anything.
“Anyone?”
When it seemed that no one would comply with Carrow’s request, Parkinson made her way to the front of the class. Ginny looked on as Parkinson pointed her wand at the boy and whispered the Cruciatus Curse. The boy’s body bent in unnatural ways as Parkinson kept her wand steady. Unlike the students who looked away, Parkinson looked on - her wand only wavering a bit. The boy’s screams filled the classroom until Carrow placed a Silencing Charm over the boy.
October 1997
Warm sunny days - Ginny cherished them this year. They were the only times that she felt at ease. Students smiled and laughed more. Hogwarts felt more like itself during those days; almost as if Snape wasn’t Headmaster.
Straightening her skirt one last time, Ginny headed to Hagrid’s hut when she noticed someone walking towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Getting as close as possible, Ginny hid behind a tree and cast a quick Notice-Me-Not Charm. That Slytherin green scarf combined with that bob cut could only belong to Parkinson. Parkinson took out a book from her bag and sat down against the trunk of a tree.
That day in Defence Against the Dark Arts had stayed with Ginny. Ginny had seen little emotion in Parkinson. But as Parkinson read on, Ginny caught her smiling. A real smile. The kind that were so rarely seen at Hogwarts this year. Ginny had never payed attention to Parkinson’s smiles before. Parkinson had always just been another one of those Slytherin girls.
Here in the forest, without any reminders of house rivalries and the war, Ginny took the time to look at Parkinson. Parkinson had changed this year. If anything, Parkinson looked more like herself. Her brown shoulder length hair and had been cut into an asymmetrical bob. Unlike most of the girls who wore skirts with their blouses, Parkinson wore grey trousers. If Ginny were to admit it to herself, she’d say that Parkinson looked nice.
November 1997
It had become somewhat of a habit for Ginny to follow Parkinson to the edge of the Forbidden Forest after their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. The more Ginny observed Parkinson, the more Ginny realized that she quite liked watching Parkinson.
Ginny noticed how Parkinson folded the corner of her page to keep her place in the book. When Parkinson tucked her hair behind her ear, Ginny noticed a pale scar on Parkinson’s neck. Like every other time, Parkinson sat down with her back against a tree trunk, pulled out a book, and read until the sun started to set. Sitting there right alone, Parkinson didn’t seem so bad. There was something fascinating about watching Parkinson.
Autumn started to give way to winter when Ginny received her first detention. Unlike Neville who collected detentions like chocolate frog cards, Ginny had managed to avoid them this term. But when she saw the cuts and bruises on a student coming from a detention with Carrow, Ginny had snapped. She’d had enough. Fellow Gryffindors had cheered Ginny up after she hexed Carrow with her best Bat-Bogey Hex. Snape had intervened and assigned Ginny detention.
The Carrows were notorious for their detentions, and for that, Ginny was grateful that her detention was served writing lines under the supervision of a prefect. A single desk and two chairs had been added to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to make it suited for detention. Instead of Carrow, Parkinson stood watch over the classroom.
“Quill and parchment are on the desk. And don’t look so surprised, Weasley. Headmaster Snape assigned me your detention.”
Before sitting down across from Ginny, Parkinson charmed the clock to announce when an hour had passed. A book in hand, Parkinson made herself comfortable. Ginny knew exactly what kind of detention this was to be. Umbridge held similar ones.
She let out a gasp of pain as the first line cut into the back of her right hand. Again and again, the words cut into the back of Ginny’s hand, healed, and then reappeared the next time she wrote a line. And on it went. As Ginny wrote more and the pain grew, she decided to focus on one thing in the room. And in a room filled with almost nothing, Parkinson was the only thing worthy of attention.
There was something about Parkinson. Ginny had never thought women to be attractive. Some, like Fleur, were beautiful, but Ginny had never been attracted to them. But Parkinson had a presence. Ginny watched Parkinson bite her lower lip as she turned the page of her book. After a particularly painful line, Ginny stifled a whimper. By the end, the skin had healed over, leaving the place where the lines had been written red and not quite smooth.
The clock announced the hour and Ginny dropped the quill. Pain seared through her hand as she stretched her fingers. Standing from her seat, Parkinson stretched and her blouse hitched up revealing a bit of skin. Parkinson walked to Ginny’s desk and placed a pot on the corner of it.
“For you. It’s a salve of Murtlap Essence for the cut.”
Ginny turned the pot over in her hands, slowly opening it. She dipped her fingers in the salve, keeping her eyes on Parkinson.
“You know, being a Slytherin doesn’t mean being heartless, Weasley.”
December 1997
The holidays had been a rather tense affair. Percy’s refusal to come home only made Mum sadder. The holidays lacked their usual cheerfulness. A bit like Hogwarts. The red and gold colours seemed duller. With the Order on high alert, Charlie and Bill only came by twice during the entire break. The house felt empty. And there still hadn’t been any word from Ron.
January and February 1998
“Again Weasley? I’m starting to think that you rather enjoy this.”
By now, the markings on Ginny’s right hand had become permanent. Wand work was sometimes a bit difficult after detention, but Ginny supposed that this was much better than having Carrow supervise her detention. Ginny smiled when she noticed the pot of salve on her desk.
The words cut into her hand as soon as Ginny wrote her first line. The skin healed, like always, leaving the place where it had been redder than before. Again and again, Ginny cut into her hand.
Ginny’s thoughts wandered to Parkinson. Were they friends? No, not exactly but Ginny sometimes rather liked Parkinson’s company. Parkinson was all sorts of stubbornness and confidence. Ginny would never agree with Parkinson’s stance on the war but did that make Parkinson the enemy? No, no Ginny couldn’t hate Parkinson for surviving. Ginny couldn’t hate Parkinson.
Hogwarts had become a whirlwind of detentions and Dumbledore’s Army activities. And Pansy. Hogwarts had become filled with memories of Pansy.
May 1998
Word of Harry's arrival travelled quickly among the members’ of Dumbledore's Army, until Ginny heard the news from Colin. Ginny knew what she had to do, but that didn't matter right now. She needed to find Pansy. She needed to tell her. Ginny found Pansy sitting against the one-eye witch statue by the stairs to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and reading her book. There was so much she wanted to say to her; "I think I might care for you", “stay safe”, or even "stay with me".
“Thank you for this year. I...just thank you.”
Pansy didn’t look up from her book, but she smiled as she turned the page.
“Next time, how about you try not to have detention, Weasley. It might be nice for change, you know.”
Ginny took one last look at Pansy, turned away and left for war, hoping against all odds that Pansy would come back into her life.