Chapter Text
Chapter One- Pansy POV
Pansy Parkinson was not a coward, thank you very much.
She was a Slytherin princess – untouchable, confident, dangerous. She did not flinch or cower in fear.
Except for that one incident when she tried to turn Harry Potter over to Voldemort in front of the whole school.
And the situation right now where she was avoiding going to the greenhouses and seeing him despite the fact it was really rather necessary.
So yes … maybe Pansy Parkinson was a teensy little bit of a coward. On the odd occasion.
Pansy sighed as she took in the stocks of her cupboards. She was short on several basic ingredients and completely out of some of the more specialised ones. She scribbled a few more points down on her scrap of parchment. Venomous Tentacula leaves. Sopophorus beans. Mandrake root. Geranium fangs. She really didn’t want to go to the greenhouses for these.
Usually Pansy would have spent the summer holidays working with Professor Sprout in the greenhouses – harvesting many of the vital ingredients required for her Potions classes throughout the year. She and the elderly witch had developed a close relationships over the last few years. She had been one of the first staff members to welcome Pansy to the school when she began shadowing Slughorn. A Hufflepuff through and through – she had been quick to forgive Pansy for her youthful mistakes and had been over the moon for the young witch when she took on the mantle of Potions Professor upon Slughorn’s retirement the previous year.
Unfortunately for Pansy, Sprout had retired at the start of the summer. She had been sad to see her go; many other Professors had struggled to see beyond Pansy’s past at first. She was however happy for the older woman – it meant she was finally getting a well deserved rest from the hard work of managing the Hogwarts’ greenhouses.
It also meant that McGonagall had hired a new Herbology professor. One that Pansy was keen to avoid like the plague. She couldn’t have hired some middle-aged gardener, could she? No – she had to employ Neville bloody Longbottom.
A goddamn war hero.
Neville had found his Gryffindor courage in that final year whilst Pansy’s wit and confidence had vanished faster than if someone had cast evanesco. He had resisted the tyranny of the Carrows at every turn, whilst Pansy had stuttered her way through countless crucios. Unable to take a stand but without any sort of conviction for the ‘cause’ she had merely tried to survive. Self preservation, after all, was a very Slytherin trait.
It was why Pansy did not want to see him. He was a reminder of everything she loathed about herself. Where he was brave, she was cowardly. Where he was softly spoken, she was sharp-tongued. Where he was loved, she was loathed. He had known Pansy at her worst – when her insecurities had driven her to project onto others. She had thought herself superior and popular but in reality she had been a pathetic bully. Neville had been one of her prime targets. She wouldn’t be surprised if he cursed her out of the greenhouse. It would be less than she probably deserved.
And so she had avoided the Herbology professor all summer. She had seen him at a distance – whilst she went for her morning swim in the lake he would run laps around the waters edge. Even from the distance she could see how much he had changed from school. No longer the soft round boy she remembered. He was taller than she recalled, with a muscular physique and strong thighs. Pansy was eternally grateful he had not seemed to see her the morning of his first run. She could barely keep her eyes off him. She blamed the severe lack of eligible bachelors in this remote corner of the highlands. She couldn’t not appreciate the view when the only men she seemed to see were Professors Flitwick and Hagrid. Neither of whom could be termed her ‘type’.
It also made the idea of approaching the Gryffindor even more unpalatable. She couldn’t quite face the prospect of the only good-looking male for miles staring at her with total and complete disdain.
“Right Parkinson,” she muttered to herself as she stored empty potions bottles, “You need to buck up and get yourself to that bloody greenhouse”.
Term started in a week, and she really needed to get the cupboards fully stocked ready for brewing some of the more complex potions required for her NEWT classes. Amortentia was the introductory potion for Sixth Year students, and it required a good five days brewing before being perfectly ready.
Pansy checked herself in the mirror hanging on the classroom door (an excellent tool to keep an eye on students at the back) and felt satisfied with her appearance. Her once sharp bob was now softly curled, hanging just below her chin, and her grey eyes were defined with expertly applied eyeliner. Pansy had always taken pride in how she looked. Her features might not be perfect, as her mother always lamented, but she knew how to emphasise her best attributes. In any case, a perfect appearance was a suitable shield from the world – no-one could see who she truly was if they were too distracted by her dark red lips and sharply defined eyes. Nodding to herself she smoothed her shift dress and left the dungeon.
The sun was shining on the grounds of Hogwarts. As Pansy left the Entrance Hall she paused in the courtyard, letting the sun warm the bare skin of her arms. Pansy had long ago made the strategic decision of forgoing the traditional witches robes many other professors preferred in favour of a muggle alternative - sleeveless shift dresses. In part this was because the constantly brewing potions made her dungeon classroom swelteringly warm even in the winter, but also because of the mutterings about her past. She recalled her first year apprenticing Slughorn.
Did you know Assistant Parkinson was a Death Eater?
I heard she wanted to give Potter up so she would be in You-Know-Who’s inner circle.
I can’t believe McGonagall is letting a Death Eater work in the school.
Pansy could easily understand the assumption. She was a Slytherin. She had been Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend. She had joined the Inquisitorial Squad in fifth year. She had tried to hand over Harry Potter to Voldemort. But she wasn’t actually a Death Eater. Her parents, whilst sympathetic to the ‘cause’ did not agree with Voldemort’s methods and she had followed suit. Nobody ever seemed to believe her though. So she took to wearing sleeveless muggle clothing to make the truth known.
She would make a point in the first week of lessons to ensure students would see her left forearm – her smooth porcelain skin completely unblemished. She wasn’t a Death Eater. And she wasn’t wearing witches robes. She didn’t hate Muggles. It was the easiest way of making clear who she was without ever addressing the rumours directly. Pansy did not do confrontation. It was too … Gryffindor.
It was also why she had avoided approaching Neville Longbottom for the last 4 weeks. But needs must.
Pansy walked purposefully across the grounds with the single-minded aim of getting in and out of the greenhouses with as little fuss as possible.
Pansy stood in front of Greenhouse One for a long moment. Taking a deep breath she knocked firmly on the glass pane, hoping that Longbottom was in fact in this Greenhouse and not working in Five or Six. She wasn’t sure she could find enough courage to repeat the exercise another five times.
“Hello”
His voice was deeper than she expected … and also a lot closer than she had anticipated.
She turned to her right, and saw his face poking out of the door of Greenhouse Two. Good god the man was gorgeous. His face had lost the roundness she remembered. He had a strong jaw, emphasised by the dark stubble he now sported. His eyes were a warm hazel, and framed with the kind of thick lashes she could only hope to achieve with a glamour charm. He had a welcoming smile on his face, which fell as a look of dawning recognition passed over his features.
“Parkinson? I heard you knock. Is there something I can help you with?”
His voice was cool. Not rude in tone, or angry, just cool. Like he didn’t want her there but was too polite to say. Which, Pansy thought dejectedly, was quite likely to be the case.