Chapter Text
Though she had grown up with magic all her life and had been to Diagon Alley more times than Pansy could remember, Emily still acted as if it was the first time whenever she conned her mothers into taking her shopping with them. Pansy couldn’t blame her. 11 years old-11 and 11/12ths, as her daughter was kind enough to remind them whenever she got it wrong-and she had only just stopped sulking over not going to Hogwarts last year when Pansy and Tonks had announced yesterday they’d need to get her things.
Tonks hadn’t been able to come. No matter how many times she swore at the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she wasn't able to change the schedule. So it was just Pansy and Emily that day.
“Oh, dear!” Pansy said, pretending to thumb through her purse. “We seem to have forgotten your list. I guess we’ll have to go home and come back another day.”
She let out a long suffering sigh, sneaking a glance at Emily to see if she was buying her teasing. She wasn’t.
“I have it here, mum,” Emily said, shoving a copy of the list into her hands. Pansy raised her eyebrow.
“And where did you get this, young lady? You haven’t been “borrowing” my wand again, have you?”
“No!” Emily said, shaking her head. “Uncle Hawke made it for me.”
“He did, did he?” It was one of the least disruptive things he had ever shown her daughter. “Well, that was very nice of him.”
Smiling, she tousled Emily’s hair. “You’d probably mu-”
She caught herself. She was never quite sure how her daughter would react to any mention of death, given what had happened to her parents in the war. Mostly Pansy avoided the subject, knowing full well that one day they wouldn't be able to put off certain conversations any longer. But she was already preparing for that moment.
“You’d be a right terror if I put this off another day. Wicked child.”
Emily stuck her tongue out at her.
“Don’t let your grandmother see you do that. She’ll hex your mouth away.”
“She knows how to do that?”
“Mmm hmm,” Pansy said with a nod. “She did it to me once or twice.” Or half a dozen. Mostly after she had graduated.
“What did you do?” Emily’s voice was low, conspiratorial.
“Oh, who remembers?” She had called her mother a “lying cow.” In her defense, her mother was being a lying cow. She’d seen her pensieve.
“Come along,” she said, squeezing her daughter’s hand.”Lots to buy.”
If she had had her way, Emily would have dragged Pansy straight to Ollivander's to get her wand, but Pansy insisted on getting everything else on her school list first. So Emily had to be patient through a fitting at Madam Malkin's, through dozens of shops, getting supplies and books and lunch. By the time they began heading to Ollivander's, she was so excited and frustrated she was ready to burst.
Pansy had been to the shop many times over the years, consulting the family on various projects since leaving the aurors. Sometimes with Tonks with her, but usually on her own. And never with Emily.
“Is this it, mummy?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
Pansy knelt down to look her daughter in the eye.
“After I introduce you to Mr. Olivander, I’m going to leave you alone while you get your wand.”
“Why?”
“Because your wand choosing you is a very personal moment and giving privacy is good form," she said, repeating the words he'd said to her when she was 11. Don’t worry, he’s a very nice man. And he’ll tell you everything you need to know. Alright?”
She looked more than a little nervous, but she put on a brave face. She’d gotten that from Tonks. Blinking back tears, Pansy pulled her into a tight squeeze.
“I wish your parents were here to see this,” she murmured into her daughter’s ear. “They would have been so proud of you. Just like we are.”
She pulled back and snorted. Her daughter was feeling nothing more than impatience.
“Of course. Wand time. Alright, ignore your poor mother’s feelings.”
Winking at her, she took her hand and led her into the shop.
If she hadn’t known any better, Pansy would have guessed that wrinkled, old Olivander had a philosopher’s stone. Or unicorn’s blood. Something. He hadn’t aged a day.
He beamed at her the moment they walked in.
“Ah, Pansy Parkinson. “Hawthorn and dragon heartstrings. 13 ¾ inches. Maybe not quite so rigid as I thought, hmm?”
Pansy smiled back.
“Maybe not.”
“Bah! I was right about everything else I said. I’ve got a better track record than the Sorting Hat himself!”
“And who might you be,” he asked, turning his attention to the girl with her.
“Go on,” Pansy prodded.
“Emily, sir. Emily Beauregarde.”
“What a lovely name. Let’s see what we can find for you today.”
“You be good for Mr. Ollivander,” Pansy told her sternly as the wand seller called back for his own children to bring him this wand and that. “I’ll just be at Flourish and Blott’s.”
She was almost at the door when she stopped and turned back. She so wanted to tell her daughter what she had needed to hear back then. You don’t have to tell me what he says. But I hope you know that you can.
She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She couldn’t influence it. So she just nodded at her daughter who was paying her no attention.
Pansy made it halfway the block towards the bookstore when she stopped again. Looking around, as if she believed Tonks was lurking around and checking up on her. Satisfied that she or no one who would tattle to her was around, she pulled a pack out of her purse.
She had promised Tonks she would cut back on the smoking. And she had. But sometimes she just needed one and this was one of those times. It had been one hell of a time, the last few years.
The shop can wait, Pansy decided. Her project had, after all, waited that long. It could stand a bit longer. And she never got to just wander Diagon Alley anymore, by herself. And she had time. Cigarette in hand, she turned around and walked in the other direction.
The Alley was positively alive. More than it had in ages. It was mostly filled with the new batch of first years and other students, dragging their parents through the streets. She gave a friendly wave to the people she knew. Neville Longbottom hand-in-hand with Hannah Abbott, smiling brightly enough to outshine the rock on her finger. Daphne, hanging off the arm of the still hopelessly dishy Charlie Weasley, was far too busy to stop and chat but made the sign to floo her.
She walked as far back as Madam Malkin’s before stopping, leaning against the wall and finishing off the last of her cigarette. She glanced over. Some of the older students coming out ofMadam Malkin’s, puffing themselves up over the long coats the Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher required them to buy for their shield training, were giving her a bit of attention. Pansy gave them a wink, unsure if they were ogling her or the thick staff in her hand.
Beaming, Pansy crushed the butt of her cigarette underneath her shoe and headed back.
She had perfect timing, to the point that she wondered if that was another part of the magic of the place. Emily was just taking the parcel that must have held her new wand from Mr. Ollivander when she walked in.
“Mummy!” Emily cried, bouncing over to her and throwing her arms around her.
“I take it one found you?”
“ Finally ! It took ages for Mr. Ollivander to find one for me. We must have tried a hundred!”
“Is that so?” She said, pulling out the coins she owed the man. “Was that more than mine?”
Mr. Ollivander shrugged, but his sly smile confirmed her suspicions.
“She was a particularly challenging match, but I think it will serve her well.”
Pansy bit back all of the questions she might have.
“And your staff, Mrs. Parkinson? Still serving you well?”
“Better than ever,” she said proudly, holding it out for him to take.
“One day I’m going to have a staff,” Emily declared.
“I’m sure you will,” Ollivander said, not looking up. He was too intent on his work.
“Hmph,” he said. “You should take better care of it.”
“I take plenty good care of it!”
“Since your retirement, maybe.”
They glared good naturedly at each other. Pansy had gotten to known him and his family in the years since she’d left the aurors and started out on her own. He was almost a friend.
“At polish it up. Make it look presentable. A staff will serve it’s mistress well if it’s well looked after.”
Pansy stuck her tongue out at him, must to the delight of her daughter.
“I’m telling grandma!”
“But if you tell her, how will you eat all of the ice cream I’m going to buy you? You have a lovely day, Mr. Ollivander.”
She had to say it over her shoulder, Emily was already dragging her to the door. She skipped the whole way to Fortescue’s old shop.
“Mummy, can I have a sundae?”
“Only a small one. We’re going out for dinner later, remember.”
But even so, Emily talked her into sharing the largest sundae they had, while she happily told her everything that had happened in the wand shop.
The End
(Pansy and Tonks will return)