Revenge By Any Other Name (Where One Lies) - Harry/Pansy - 2/99
The Harry/Pansy Table
Series Title: Revenge by Any Other Name
Chapter Title: Where One Lies (2/99)
Author: Tonya (_fullofgrace)
Characters: Pansy; Harry/Pansy (eventually)
Prompt: #02 - Middles
Word Count: 1213
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: Pansy reflects on what she knows she must do. (A prologue piece to this series.)
----------
Pansy frowned as she leaned against the trunk of the tall elm, staring out across the field over rows of gray headstones and statues. She would have liked to believe that if there had been a body, it would have been brought here.
Hidden Hills with its perfectly manicured lawns, majestic trees, and solid stone walls, held the remains of some of the most prestigious families in the wizarding world. Located in this very spot for more generations than Pansy could even fathom counting, any family worth their money, their name and stature, bought a plot here. Her own family being no exception. Pansy already knew the exact location her body would lie….
If there was a body at the end of all things.
Much like her own family, the Malfoys had also bought land here. However, only one of the namesake plots was filled. Narcissa had died soon after her son, rumored to have taken her own life after hearing of the fate that had befell her only child. Lucius Malfoy, who had long escaped Azkaban to return to his rightful place at Lord Voldemort’s side, still had not met the fate that Pansy felt the man rightfully deserved for betraying his own flesh and blood in the name of power.
As for Draco…
Well, unfortunately, his body had yet to be seen.
It was a well-established fact that Draco Malfoy had met his death early in the second war at the hands of the Dark Lord while some of his classmates continued into their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Pansy included in that group of dedicated students.
Much to her displeasure, Pansy had stayed behind to finish off her seventh year at Hogwarts by direct order of her parents. If she had had her choice on the matter, she would have spent that year trying to get in touch with Draco, to make sure he was safe. She knew she couldn’t do much as a one girl army in regards to searching out the boy, but she would have rather have spent her days searching for him than doing pointless school assignments.
The entire summer she had spent pestering her parents about whether or not they had heard any news from the Malfoys, from anyone, about Draco and his whereabouts. Rumors had continued to circulate that he had run off to become a full-fledged Death Eater after the attack on Hogwarts at the end of their sixth year, but Pansy highly doubted that.
During school, Draco had always been mostly show, the only exception being when he crossed paths with Potter. But generally, Draco bullied and intimidated because he knew he could and because he was good at it. He knew all the proper ways to strike fear into schoolmates, but sending younger housemates scurrying away with a simple glare and basically running off to become a trained murderer?
They were two completely different things.
With the rumors of Draco’s fate still abuzz in the wizarding community, Pansy had returned to school hesitantly to find her seventh year at Hogwarts to be the most bizarre year she could remember.
Dumbledore’s presence had been replaced with that of McGonagall’s, the new headmistress. Potions did not occur for the first term, no person thick enough to take on the position in what was already a very volatile situation. Fewer students seemed to gather in each of the respective houses, including her own. The number of younger students in the Slytherin house had dwindled due to a general concern about the safety within the school’s solid walls. However, as for Pansy’s fellow seventh years who had not returned, their reasons had been much different.
Most of them had left to finish their real training.
Though her parents had always showed loyalty to the Dark lord and his cause, her mother was also highly old-fashioned in her thinking. Her mother's belief was that the perfect Parkinson woman was lethal on all levels, with a fierceness in her wand that was matched only by her intense intellect. The perfect Parkinson woman finished her education as never to be outwitted by a man, even her own husband. The perfect Parkinson woman married into a family more prestigious than her own.
That family had once been his.
Once.
And then he had gone missing.
She had received her first and last owl from Draco in the middle of her winter term. She had gone to the owlery in expectation of a package from her mother, but while awaiting the return of her familiar owl, a Bard owl had pecked the back of her hand viciously as it landed on the perch nearest her. She had cursed the owl, and threatened to turn it into dinner for the thestrals, just before she had noticed the letter addressed to her clasped in its beak.
A letter in his handwriting.
Her heart in her throat, she had ripped the envelope open, nearly tearing the note inside in the process. The note had been brief, which she had expected any letter from him would be.
In messy, rushed ink, he informed her that he was okay for now, and her insides had twisted at the “for now” tagged at the end of the line. He told her that he was in hiding with Snape at the moment, but they would soon be off to see Voldemort. And in a confession she knew he would never admit to her face and would probably deny to his very grave if ever confronted about it, he admitted that he was scared of what was to come. And with that last admission, he had signed his name hastily, ending Pansy’s last communication with him.
Pansy had not learned of his death until long after that letter. It had been after graduation, during a gathering with Blaise Zabini’s family when the topic had been brought up over a dinner of veal and vegetables. It had taken everything in her to not excuse herself from the table to be sick.
His body had never been found.
Pansy swallowed hard as her eyes carefully scanned the field of stone and grass. She finally spied the statue that marked the Malfoy plot, and she balled her fists at her side.
She was stuck in the middle of it all. Stuck between serving her name, her family legacy and its loyalties, and serving herself and her own righteous anger.
Pansy refused to let Voldemort get away with killing someone who had once been close to her. The man would pay, and if it meant that she would be forced to be civil to the likes of Harry Potter, then she would gladly do so.
Pulling up the hood of her cloak, Pansy started out of the cemetery, her walk graceful yet determined. She had learned a thing or two in the Slytherin house about how to deceive people properly, even those who thought they knew you inside and out, and it seemed she would be putting those skills to the test.
Outside the stone gates of the cemetery, Pansy closed her eyes and took a deep breath before apparating home. To kiss her husband good evening, even as she pondered the note to Harry Potter she would be sending very soon.
Series Title: Revenge by Any Other Name
Chapter Title: Where One Lies (2/99)
Author: Tonya (_fullofgrace)
Characters: Pansy; Harry/Pansy (eventually)
Prompt: #02 - Middles
Word Count: 1213
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: Pansy reflects on what she knows she must do. (A prologue piece to this series.)
----------
Pansy frowned as she leaned against the trunk of the tall elm, staring out across the field over rows of gray headstones and statues. She would have liked to believe that if there had been a body, it would have been brought here.
Hidden Hills with its perfectly manicured lawns, majestic trees, and solid stone walls, held the remains of some of the most prestigious families in the wizarding world. Located in this very spot for more generations than Pansy could even fathom counting, any family worth their money, their name and stature, bought a plot here. Her own family being no exception. Pansy already knew the exact location her body would lie….
If there was a body at the end of all things.
Much like her own family, the Malfoys had also bought land here. However, only one of the namesake plots was filled. Narcissa had died soon after her son, rumored to have taken her own life after hearing of the fate that had befell her only child. Lucius Malfoy, who had long escaped Azkaban to return to his rightful place at Lord Voldemort’s side, still had not met the fate that Pansy felt the man rightfully deserved for betraying his own flesh and blood in the name of power.
As for Draco…
Well, unfortunately, his body had yet to be seen.
It was a well-established fact that Draco Malfoy had met his death early in the second war at the hands of the Dark Lord while some of his classmates continued into their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Pansy included in that group of dedicated students.
Much to her displeasure, Pansy had stayed behind to finish off her seventh year at Hogwarts by direct order of her parents. If she had had her choice on the matter, she would have spent that year trying to get in touch with Draco, to make sure he was safe. She knew she couldn’t do much as a one girl army in regards to searching out the boy, but she would have rather have spent her days searching for him than doing pointless school assignments.
The entire summer she had spent pestering her parents about whether or not they had heard any news from the Malfoys, from anyone, about Draco and his whereabouts. Rumors had continued to circulate that he had run off to become a full-fledged Death Eater after the attack on Hogwarts at the end of their sixth year, but Pansy highly doubted that.
During school, Draco had always been mostly show, the only exception being when he crossed paths with Potter. But generally, Draco bullied and intimidated because he knew he could and because he was good at it. He knew all the proper ways to strike fear into schoolmates, but sending younger housemates scurrying away with a simple glare and basically running off to become a trained murderer?
They were two completely different things.
With the rumors of Draco’s fate still abuzz in the wizarding community, Pansy had returned to school hesitantly to find her seventh year at Hogwarts to be the most bizarre year she could remember.
Dumbledore’s presence had been replaced with that of McGonagall’s, the new headmistress. Potions did not occur for the first term, no person thick enough to take on the position in what was already a very volatile situation. Fewer students seemed to gather in each of the respective houses, including her own. The number of younger students in the Slytherin house had dwindled due to a general concern about the safety within the school’s solid walls. However, as for Pansy’s fellow seventh years who had not returned, their reasons had been much different.
Most of them had left to finish their real training.
Though her parents had always showed loyalty to the Dark lord and his cause, her mother was also highly old-fashioned in her thinking. Her mother's belief was that the perfect Parkinson woman was lethal on all levels, with a fierceness in her wand that was matched only by her intense intellect. The perfect Parkinson woman finished her education as never to be outwitted by a man, even her own husband. The perfect Parkinson woman married into a family more prestigious than her own.
That family had once been his.
Once.
And then he had gone missing.
She had received her first and last owl from Draco in the middle of her winter term. She had gone to the owlery in expectation of a package from her mother, but while awaiting the return of her familiar owl, a Bard owl had pecked the back of her hand viciously as it landed on the perch nearest her. She had cursed the owl, and threatened to turn it into dinner for the thestrals, just before she had noticed the letter addressed to her clasped in its beak.
A letter in his handwriting.
Her heart in her throat, she had ripped the envelope open, nearly tearing the note inside in the process. The note had been brief, which she had expected any letter from him would be.
In messy, rushed ink, he informed her that he was okay for now, and her insides had twisted at the “for now” tagged at the end of the line. He told her that he was in hiding with Snape at the moment, but they would soon be off to see Voldemort. And in a confession she knew he would never admit to her face and would probably deny to his very grave if ever confronted about it, he admitted that he was scared of what was to come. And with that last admission, he had signed his name hastily, ending Pansy’s last communication with him.
Pansy had not learned of his death until long after that letter. It had been after graduation, during a gathering with Blaise Zabini’s family when the topic had been brought up over a dinner of veal and vegetables. It had taken everything in her to not excuse herself from the table to be sick.
His body had never been found.
Pansy swallowed hard as her eyes carefully scanned the field of stone and grass. She finally spied the statue that marked the Malfoy plot, and she balled her fists at her side.
She was stuck in the middle of it all. Stuck between serving her name, her family legacy and its loyalties, and serving herself and her own righteous anger.
Pansy refused to let Voldemort get away with killing someone who had once been close to her. The man would pay, and if it meant that she would be forced to be civil to the likes of Harry Potter, then she would gladly do so.
Pulling up the hood of her cloak, Pansy started out of the cemetery, her walk graceful yet determined. She had learned a thing or two in the Slytherin house about how to deceive people properly, even those who thought they knew you inside and out, and it seemed she would be putting those skills to the test.
Outside the stone gates of the cemetery, Pansy closed her eyes and took a deep breath before apparating home. To kiss her husband good evening, even as she pondered the note to Harry Potter she would be sending very soon.