t w o ⇀

1 SEPTEMBER 1998 |

The Hogwarts Express chugged along the old, familiar track. Pansy had never noticed how loud the engine was, nor how the wind whistled against her window, signalling the high speed the train was travelling.

There was a lot of things about the Hogwarts Express that Pansy had never cared to noticed. Like how she could almost hear every word of the conversations of the daft bimbos in the compartment across from hers or the way the ground shook and rocked from the bumps in the rails.

     But mostly, Pansy had never noticed the void of silence that accompanied travelling alone.

She'd never had to travel the Express alone before.

Alone had become painstakingly obvious to her as the train continued on. Adjusting the dark hair behind her ears, Pansy slipped from her spot on the bench and slumped down onto the hard ground with a thump.

     It was as if she had swallowed a heavy magnet, her body being tugged to the ground. Her fingers brushed the old carpet flooring, wondering all the while when the last time the cleaning lady had come through was.

She didn't keep track of how long she did it, but there Pansy sat, transfixed, in the middle of the floor, thin legs crossed in front of her. A weight on her shoulders as she stared, hollow-eyed and angry, out of the glass pane of the compartment door.

Many students of every year passed her compartment by, their curious attentions caught momentarily by the disturbing sight, before moving on. Occasionally, people would stop and stare for a bit, making rude gestures, a few flipping her off, but none entered.

For good measure, Pansy lifted her wand at the ones bold enough to try anything, getting the cowards to scamper off with their tails tucked tightly between their quivering legs. At least she still had fear to her advantage, she thought, still unable to stand from the disgusting floor. Whether it be from frustration, anger, depression, or just a fit, she wasn't sure.

Among the throngs of people, a familiar redhead stood out to Pansy Parkinson in her pitiful state, transfixed to the floor of a train.

     Ginny Weasley. With her bright orange hair tied back into a few, odd braids, the Gryffindor lioness peered into the compartment, her head tilted to the side as she took in Pansy's frame.

Glaring, Pansy reached for her wand once more.

However, Ginny Weasley seemed unmoved by the Slytherin's actions, her calm features unchanging as she spared Pansy a small, soft, pitying smile and turned away, heading for a compartment further back.

15 NOVEMBER 1990 |

"Happy Birthday, my flower." Violette Parkinson lightly pecked her daughter's forehead and set the special letter onto the empty plate in front of the small girl, pushing back the girl's curtain of dark bangs from the front of her eyes.

Pansy yanked away from her mother's touch, knowing whenever her mum began touching her hair the woman was thinking about shearing it all off. "Finally it arrived," Pansy sighed, annoyed by how long it had taken to get to her. "I've been waiting so long."

"Dear, you know how these things work."

Pansy eyed her mother's tight-lipped frown and huffed, shaking her head but refraining from saying anything else. Instead, Pansy greedily picked up the envelope and tore into it, bits of paper falling onto the dining table, littering the area around her.

Her Hogwarts letter.

The eleven-year-old turned the letter over in her pale, bony hands, eyes scouring the page before tossing it onto the table, disappointed. "That's it? How boring." For a magical school, the invitation could have been more impressive for her. It was Pansy's birthday after all.

"Not to worry, my flower," Mrs Parkinson quipped, her nose already buried in the morning's Daily Prophet, her voice trailing off as she spoke to her daughter. "Tomorrow you and I will go to Diagon Alley and pick out your things."

Pansy brushed the shrapnel of paper off of the table and onto the floor, creating a bigger mess for the house elf to clean up. She enjoyed making messes, along with a variety of other things. But, once the bits settled onto the floor beneath her chair, Pansy found herself bored once more.

Frowning, Pansy watched her mother, resting her head on her outstretched palm, waiting for something to happen. The girl's eyes trailed from her preoccupied mother to the empty chair at the head of the table. It had a place setting and goblet out, as if someone would be joining them, but Mr Parkinson was not in attendance. "Mum, where's Father?"

"Work, dear."

Pansy swung her legs, kicking back and forth.

Then, a dark thought seeped into the forefront of her mind. 'No one will like me there.' Exasperated, Pansy groaned, hoping her mother would look up from the paper. Violette Parkinson's eyes didn't waver in the slightest, ignoring the continuous groans of her daughter.

It wasn't unusual for Pansy to throw fits for attention.

Slumping down onto the floor of the dining room, Pansy groaned and moaned, pulling at her gangly limbs, knees to her chest and pouting, annoyed. It was her birthday, after all. Why couldn't her mother pay attention to her, even if for an hour?

"Get off the floor, Pansy."

Pansy played with the ends of her hair. Underneath the table, she could see all the spots that Golly, the Parkinson's house elf, had missed. Pansy made a note to use it against the house elf later, when she was bored. Pansy groaned once more, finally earning a grunt from her mother.

"Merlin's beard, Pansy, what is the matter?"

Pansy couldn't bare to admit her doubt, her throat clamping up in embarrassment as tears pricked the corners of her green eyes, hugging her knees tighter to her thin frame. "They won't like me."

"Get off the floor."

There was a pause. Pansy watched as her mum's chair scooted out from under the table, followed by her mother's tight-lipped face stooping down to peer at her in her hiding place. "Stop your tears. What are you talking about?"

"At Hogwarts. They won't like me."

Violette sighed and reached out a slender hand for her daughter to grasp, yanking the little girl out from under the table, but the stubborn child refused to stand. "Don't be silly, Pansy." Pansy sniffled, her mother brushing the moisture from her lashes with a stone gaze. "You don't need them to like you. Get them to fear you. Respect you. Liking you is irrelevant."

"I don't want them to respect me," Pansy retorted, annoyed and angry and sad all at once, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Get up off of that floor, Pansy Parkinson."

"No!"

Violette's eyes flashed and she dug her long nails into Pansy's forearm, breaking the skin. "Get off of that floor. You're a Parkinson. Fits are beneath you. Start acting like one."

1 SEPTEMBER 1998 |

Get off of that floor.

Pansy finally stood from the ground, brushing off her dress robe skirts and fixing her hair once more, annoyed as people continued to walk past her door repeatedly, trying to get a rise from the girl.

Reaching out as a tall, lengthy boy with yellow skin and wide eyes approached her compartment, Pansy quickly shoved down the thin shutter, closing herself off from the train. She was weary of their faces.

Folding her hands on top of her lap, Pansy finished out the ride sitting in her proper place, eyes watching the scenery roll past her view. It would be dark soon enough, and she wasn't sure she was ready for the new year ahead.

Pansy was right back to that feeling from so many years ago, her safety blanket stripped from her bare bones. Naked and beaten down, Pansy was crawling back to the only thing she really knew: Hogwarts.

Before her first year at Hogwarts, the Parkinsons had set up multiple, frequent, play dates between their daughter Pansy and the children of friends and distant relatives that were deemed worthy enough to be acquainted with.

The Malfoys, the Goyles, the Zambinis, ... The Crabbes.

Pansy hadn't been aware of it then, but this was her parents' way of 'introducing' their daughter to acceptable matches for the near future. Filled with the glowing hope that Pansy would pair off with one of those boys, they would send her every week to a different family. One could practically taste how elated the pair was when Pansy and Draco became thick as thieves.

That was then, however.

This was now.

The Hogwarts Express came to a stop outside of the Hogwarts Castle, but Pansy found herself frozen to her chair. She didn't have a Draco this year to make snide comments with, a Blaise to look down on the others with, a Goyle to boss around... A Crabbe to obliterate in wizard's chess.

The door to her compartment creaked open, after a while of nothing. Pansy had been sure that almost all of the students were gone by then. Surprised, Pansy gripped her wand and glared at the girl who had barged into her space.

"Are you all right?"

⇀

SOME THINGS THIS AUTHOR FAILED TO MENTION:

1] Pansy is not Ginny. Pansy is not Luna, or Hermione, or Ron Weasley. Pansy Parkinson is Pansy Parkinson. Vile, rude, crass. Don't expect too much from her too soon.

2] This story jumps around a lot and is meant to be sort of 'episodic' in the manner that it deals with certain issues in different chapters. While they all build up to create the story, there will be a lot of various, scattered time jumps. I'll try to make it as smooth as possible, but we will see -- after all, this is only the first draft.