Title: "Sheer Fate"

Author: Demeter

Warnings: Slytherin POV's. Angst. Dark. Pansy-sympathetic.

Thanks to Zebee for betaing this!

Disclaimer: All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are trademarks and property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Raincoast Books and associated parties. The author claims no legal responsibility for problems associated with using this work. No money is being made and copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The original story and characters and relationships within the fic are copyright of Demeter.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"…Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

The cheers that had broken out at her table were deafening, triumphant. Pansy grinned as she and Millicent exchanged hugs, each smug about the fact that Slytherin had finally beaten Gryffindor at their own game. Now the little bastards wouldn't be able to smirk so much about their so-called popularity and likeability within the school. In the end, it didn't matter did it?

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account."

Pansy's head shot up. The cheering had subsided, but she felt a drop of icy dread well up in her. He wouldn't. He couldn't. They had gotten those points and they had won the House Cup, fair and square, and it didn't matter squat that Harry bloody Potter had once again, saved them all from the 'evil'.

 "Ahem. I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes… First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

And with those words, Pansy knew. She knew that Gryffindor would win. Dully, she wondered why they had even bothered to hang up the green and silver banners that had told everyone present that the Slytherins had won. They should have just created the illusion and in the end, yank the idea of Slytherin ever winning by pulling the literal rug from their feet.

"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

Millicent had faded to sickening color of white and now her hands were clenched below the stone table, scrabbling to find a hold on reality as the points seemed to come from an abyss of irrational logic. 

"Third – to Mr. Harry Potter for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points."

The screaming and cheering seemed to go on and on to Pansy's frozen ears. She had known. She had seen how much Dumbledore seemed to favor the Gryffindors. But they had won. Slytherin had won! Fair and square! Fuck the Gryffindors for running out late during the middle of the night! Calculating in her head, she realized that they were tied. This was almost as bad as losing to them. Knowing that even though they should be the winner clear, the Gryffindors had to sully their victory.

Then she noticed Dumbledore signaling for silence.

"No… please." Her voice was barely above a whisper in her pleading. Dumbledore had one last chance to redeem himself. He would, right?

"There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

And there it was.

Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, they had all started cheering wildly, shrieking congratulations as Neville-the-almost-squib disappeared underneath a pile of flailing arms and legs, having won the deciding points in the House cup.

"Which means we need a little change of decoration."

Pansy couldn't have felt sicker if he had just said "Gryffindors rule! Slytherins drool". He had already proven that by changing the banners from their proud green and silver into blazing testaments to Gryffindor superiority. Draco must have felt the same way because he looked as if someone had cast a Body-Bind Curse on him. His gray eyes had narrowed nearly into slits and she knew that it was only the calm before the proverbial storm.

Shaking her blonde head, she exchanged horrified looks with Millicent and the two traded hundreds of expletives in as many languages as they could think of in their unsettled states, before slumping back into their seats in desolate defeat.

Defeat that had come with the victory of Gryffindor.

Pansy could only seethe quietly along with the rest of the Slytherins. Their eyes had all turned toward the table full of Professors, each student disbelieving what Dumbledore had just said. Pansy searched the eyes of who they had thought would be absolutely fair and only saw a shining happiness in seeing – she shuddered – the Gryffindors celebrating so enthusiastically.

Professor Snape had a look of resignation on his lined face and what seemed like regret shadowed the crevasses. He stood and amid the revelry, he was hardly missed from the staff table. Sliding over to the Slytherins, he fielded questions and accusations with half-answers and perfected denials.

When the seventh year prefect demanded to know why Gryffindors had won, bitter betrayal glimmering in her eyes, he cast a sigh at his Slytherin table. At that, they all exploded into angry and knowing whispers.

"Professor, that's so unfair!"

"How could he do that?"

"He can't, can he?"

"Biased, that's what it was!"

"Can't you do anything?"

Snape shook his head. The movement was impersonal, but Pansy could only stare at the red and yellow banners that declared that Gryffindor had won, a wave of nausea assailing her senses. Again. Her throat choked up and she felt like retching. How could the Headmaster display such blatant favoritism… right at the closing ceremony at that!

She wanted to stand and scream but a swift hand checked her hasty movement. Looking down, through a haze of blinding fury, she saw Draco shake his silver head delicately. There was a look of loathing on his pale face, but all he did was take his pointed hat off and toss it onto the table. Sighing, he stood and motioned. He bowed once to Professor Snape and then walked out of the Great Hall, his manner oddly formal.

Pansy continued to shake with the injustice… but she knew when it was futile. Taking off her own hat, she held the velvety blackness tightly for one moment before throwing it down on the Slytherins table. With nary a glance to the Professors, she went after Draco and soon, the entire contingent of Slytherins had followed with varying degrees of stiffening bows and haughty glances.

She was now moving through the gloomy halls, feeling her legs numbing under the fact that the Slytherins, that she failed at winning the House Cup. The winning streak they had had for seven years had come undone during their year, going to Gryffindor, going to Harry Potter.

Inwardly, shrieking and swearing of every degree was there; outwardly no expression had managed to make itself onto her frozen face. Pansy had figured, yes, perhaps the teachers would treat Harry Potter a bit better than everyone else… but certainly, they should have stayed absolutely fair.

The whole troop of silent Slytherins had managed to make it to the Slytherin Common room. Once there, the bitter words lashed out. Of course, the only ones who were truly angry were the second and first years. The older ones only sighed wearily and said nothing except to object to any threats that would have caused bodily harm on a Gryffindor.

A sixth year finally stood up, her strained voice elegant, cultured, but firm. "I understand that there is dissension on why and how Dumbledore awarded the House Cup to the Gryffindors. But, in the end, it was the Headmaster's choice and his choice only. We will accept it like Slytherins and move on to the goal for next year. Is that understood?"

With barely acknowledged nods, everyone unenthusiastically agreed. There would be a couple more days of school left and they would have to endure the smirking glances of the Ravenclaws, the pitying looks of the Hufflepuff, and grounding her teeth together, the superior grins of those smarmy Gryffindors.

Dragging her feet toward her dorm, she absently noted that Millicent, Leda, and Sylvie were following her silently. With a shared glance, they all collapsed together on Pansy's bed, trying to comfort each other while sinking into a stupor over their own pain.

"Bloody unfair."

"Bullocks to Dumbledore anyway."

"They all favor those Gryffindor prats."

"Quiet."

The other three did indeed 'quiet' at Pansy's commanding tone. They knew when she was just being snippy, but this was real, intense anger. They knew when to argue and when to just lie together, waiting for the appropriate moment.

Millicent glanced at Pansy and she nudged Sylvie. The dark-haired Slytherin looked up from her staring contest with the bed drapes and cast an irritated glare at Millicent. Unfazed, she motioned toward Pansy and Sylvie turned to observe the blonde girl.

Pansy's eyes were forbidding, dark, intensely lost in their own world. But there was bitter disappointment, sulking hatred, and… a little girl lost, thrown into a chaotic mess of events that had worked their best in decimating her nerves.

"Pansy?"

"What?" Was the muffled answer.

"You alright?" Leda asked boldly, ignoring the usual Slytherin custom of skirting around the question until the person actually wanted to answer their unvoiced worries.

"No."

"It's alright." Millicent clasped a hand on Pansy's shoulder and she whispered, "We'll win next year and then we'll show them what Slytherins are really made of!"

"We're not going to win!"

Millicent hastily removed her hand in horror. The three girls could only stare at Pansy as unshed tears glimmered in the blue eyes. Her chin was quivering, as if she wanted to sob and weep but couldn't. For a strange, absolute moment, Millicent felt she could relate.

"Don't you see? We're not going to win. Never ever again. Harry Potter and Harry Potter and Harry Potter! Gryffindors are going to win the house cup as long as he's here! It won't matter how hard we work or how fair we play; we're always going to lose to them!" Her breathing was ragged and she seemed as close to tears as she had ever been.

Which was never.

"C'mon Pansy… I'm sure if we win the games next year and all that we'll triumph… right?"

"Don't you see? That Potter's better in quidditch then we are? And the teachers all reward *them* points instead of us! The only teacher who's partial to us is Professor Snape! He can't beat the whole school! Not with Dumbledore and McGonagall behind them!" She now shook with rage, her knuckles whitening as they clutched the coverlet.

Leda shook her head emphatically. "No! That's not true! Dumbledore's fair! He's always been fair! We've won the last few years! That has to mean something!"

An ugly laugh clawed itself out of Pansy's mouth. "Right. It means that Harry bloody Potter wasn't in Hogwarts then." Millicent swallowed and her mind flew backwards, in desperate search for something, anything that could allay their fears and confirm their hopes.

"Gryffindor is certainly the best houses."

"It's a pity that Slytherin house is still part of the sorting."

"Slytherins are all an evil lot!"

"There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin…"

"Better Hufflepuff then Slytherin.

""Slytherins are an unpleasant looking lot."

With a sinking heart, she once again tried to croak out protests… and once more, she felt perilously close to tears. Millicent turned swiftly away; it would do no good to be seen crying. No good at all. Slytherins didn't cry. Never.

"You see?"

Leda and Sylvie had gone quiet and both were looking everywhere but at each other or Pansy and Millicent.

Pansy wiped her eyes and then stood defiantly. "I don't care what I have to do. Next year. Next year, I'll make sure those blasted Gryffindors get what they deserve," she declared with her usual haughty air. There was steely determination and a desperate hope that was overwhelming with burgeoning fear.

Millicent nodded dully. This was speech they had drilled themselves on. Lemons wouldn't turn to lemonade without a bit of work.

Leda and Sylvie sighed before murmuring that they still wanted to do a bit of browsing in the library before going to bed. Pansy waved them off with barely a look and they trooped downstairs, the resilient bounce back in their steps.

Pansy flopped back down onto the soft bed. She and Millicent lay together in companionable silence for the longest time.

"You know, Millicent? I had always thought that once I came to Hogwarts, things would be different." Her voice lacked its usual hard edge. This time, the tones were wistful, wondering, and child-like.

"Me too."

"Dreams?"

"Hopes."

"I had aspirations."

"Yearnings."

"The day I could fly out as a fully-licensed witch."

"When I would be able to walk into a room without people laughing at my looks."

"To know that I could be proud of myself."

"To always be able to look forward and not backwards."

Pansy laughed suddenly, the chimes in her voice echoing girlishly. "We're both big dreamers, Millicent. So are Leda and Sylvie and Draco and Vincent and Greg and… all the Slytherins. Those Gryffindors also… but you know the difference between us and them?"

"What?" Even though Millicent knew very well the difference.

"That."

"The big one?"

"The difference between us is that we're Slytherins and they're Gryffindors."

"And that's all the world."

"Because… no matter how hard we work, we'll always be Slytherins. Always. No matter what."

The two turned toward each other. They had been friends since they were babes, perhaps even before that. They trusted each other and it was no wonder; in Slytherin you had to make and claim your place before you were swept into oblivion.

Millicent suddenly held up her pinkie. "Remember when we were little and we promised each other that no matter what, we would always be friends, forever and ever?"

Pansy nodded and she stuck out her own pinkie and together, they were linked in that age-old vow of friendship. "No matter what, we'll always be friends."

"To the end."

"Even if the nasty Gryffindors do win for the next six years."

Bursting into giggles, the two sat up and started packing their trunks. There would be the test results, the leaving of school, the endless mocking laughter… but they could ignore that. They always had before.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Pansy moved down the row amid the crowd of first year students, murmuring her scores to herself. She had done well; not beating Granger but she had managed to rank in with all ninety and above percents. She noticed that all the other Slytherins had also committed to being in the upper scores… but just enough to leave them out of being the top runner.

She smiled at seeing Draco's scores. Of all the Slytherins, he had done best. She wasn't too surprised; she had met his father so many times after all. Of course, there was also the fact that the Slytherins made pacts that except for a few, they would all purposely score lower so that they could stay out of the spotlight. No one wanted the ministry breathing down his or her backs.

And of course, the muggle-witch, Granger was the highest. Snorting, Pansy yanked a hand through her curly blonde hair with exasperation. Walking over to a conversing group of Slytherins, she poked herself in. They were comparing scores and talking with proud notes in their voices.

"Hermione, you got the top scores!" Great. That annoying prat, Ron Weasley, was insisting on vocalizing the mudblood's every single score. Without turning around, Pansy managed a roll of her eyes, seen only by her classmates. They snickered in appreciation, nodding knowingly of why she had done that. Brains were to be appreciated… but not to be glorified.

"What? Little ickle Slytherins couldn't even beat us in test scores?" The taunt was thrown out by Seamus Finnegan, his smirk echoing that of every Gryffindor who had come to see their test scores.

Pansy stiffened and she turned slowly around, ignoring the fact that she was about two inches shorter than him. A wrathful comment was ready on her lips when she heard, rather than saw, Millicent burst out first. "As if Gryffindors like you could appreciate subtlety!"

"Subtlety? More like plain dunderheads!" Ron said, his voice sneering.

Greg went still ever so slightly and Pansy knew that Ron had hit a tender spot. Greg and Vincent knew better than anyone that they weren't the smartest kids in the world. That's why they hung out with Draco. He coached them in most of their subjects and with the younger Malfoy's help, they managed to make the most of their subjects.

Pansy rang out in defense of Gregory and Vincent (she rather liked them) and in a shrill voice, she cried, "Stupid gits! You think you're so brilliant because you got higher scores? Wait until someone wants to kill you because you're smarter!"

Hermione paled and Ron rose, his face livid. "Is that a threat, pug-face?"

Pansy hesitated. She hadn't meant to make her words sound so menacing. But they were out; the dice was thrown, the odds determined. Lashing forward, she mocked, "Wouldn't you like to know? I bet if you had some brains, you could make some money for your pack of rats!"

Ron roared and he would have ran forward to tackle her – girl or no girl – when Harry stopped him by pulling him by the waist. "Ron! Stop! We'll get into trouble with Snape!"

In the halls now, it was Slytherins versus Gryffindor… with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw closely behind, ready to support the 'golden house'. Pansy wanted to shriek with the unfairness of it all; why did Slytherin always end up alone, forced to fight everyone else?

With a grim snarl, she tamped down all her quaking feelings of inadequacy that came whenever other people teased her.

Ron, unable to escape Harry, finally hollered, "You're all evil like You-Know-Who anyway! Why they don't just kick you all out and kill you is bloody insane!"

There.

He had blurted out dreadful, horrible, decaying words that even he looked surprised to hear coming from his lips. The Slytherins, mostly, had frozen with shock in being connected with the dreaded euphemism.

There were a few who smirked quietly; Voldemort was a household name in their homes. But Pansy felt herself quiver with the sudden coldness that had swept over her. It wouldn't do to faint here, she told herself, but all she suddenly wanted to do was keel over in a dead faint.

In her hazy fog of anger and fear, she saw that many Slytherins had gone as white as she must have gone; some even seemed close to shrieking with rightly felt rage. Just because they were Slytherins, everyone automatically connected them with You-Know-Who.

But of course 'they' wouldn't notice!

Draco Malfoy drew himself up. He wasn't the leader of the first year Slytherins for nothing. His face was pale, but it had always been that way, so Pansy knew those bastards wouldn't even perceive his distress.

"Weasley, if we were with You-Know-Who, we wouldn't stand around to be insulted by the likes of you."

There was a growl from most of the Gryffindors assembled and Pansy suddenly had the ludicrous image of all the first years rolling on the floor and knocking each other senseless. And by the looks of it, she doubted that was too far-off from reality. Tensing, she added in her own words. "Because you lot are made up of trash after all!"

This time Ron really did explode. He screamed out, "You should all just die and go to hell!"

"I do not think that was wise, Mr. Weasley."

The cold, icy voice seemed to cut through them all. The group of students turned as one toward the tall, imposing, shadow-catching figure of Severus Snape. Ron went a nasty shade of green before seeming to shrink into the frightened ball of a quivering child.

Snape gazed at the mixed group of three houses with smoldering and hooded eyes before turning back to his Slytherins. His lips twitched slightly, as if in exertion to keep from snarling. "Still the same. Still the same prejudice and hate." His murmured words were so faint that only Pansy and a few others heard it… and form the look on Harry's face, she guessed that he had heard the interesting choice of words too.

"Professor Snape!" The chorus of relieved Slytherin voices echoed as one and Pansy felt a wave of reprieve wash over her, leaving her legs unsteady. He would be there for them. He would protect them. He would stay biased toward them. Snape was a Slytherin after all.

"What did you mean by that?"

The Gryffindors were silent, glancing at each other uneasily. The silky edge in Snape's voice was the stuff of nightmares. And the last time they had heard it, Harry had ended up with several detentions…

"Er… I… um…"

"Nevertheless, no matter the reason, you threatened fellow students. For that, I'll remember to take off fifty points for next year. Do be wise and use some of your dubious brain cells next time." With those sharp words, Snape motioned and the group of Slytherin first years gladly followed him back to the dorms.

"Did you see that look on Weasel's face?"

"He deserved it, the bloody git."

"I can't believe he thought we were dumb!"

"Insulting Vince and Greg that way! Jerks!"

"Silence."

And of course, they all quieted down. Snape was glaring at them, a glint of heavy anger in his black eyes. The silence turned heavy and it burned. Pansy felt herself shrivel up at the rare display of annoyance from their favorite professor.

"But professor…"

"Not another word Draco." Snape snapped.

"But!"

"Sylvie! Did I not say silence?" He turned on her with the full force of his eyes and she cowered immediately. Snape snorted and ignored her thereafter. Leda slipped to her side and tried to comfort the inconsolable girl. Sylvie was known throughout the first years to have a little crush on the professor and now he was there, yelling at her!

"I do not care what they might have said to you. You are Slytherins. You take it and you swallow it." His voice had dropped to a deadly whisper. But they heard and understood better than if he had screamed.

"Slytherins will never be the ones pitied. Slytherins are and always will be the bane of Hogwarts. But the Slytherins will always stay here. No matter how bad it gets. Therefore, you must endure it!" His voice was passionate with age-old experience. Pansy pressed her lips together in an attempt to prevent a strangled protest from escaping her lips.

"Professor… they're still young. They'll learn soon enough." The group of first years looked up to see several Slytherin sixth and fifth years, their eyes cool and calm. Moving through the crowd, they clasped emotionless but still comforting hands on various shoulders.

Marcus Flint nodded, his eyes twisting. "No matter what, we'll always be the enemy. Nothing's going to change. It's no big deal anymore." With that, he clapped his hands together and the spell of melancholy was broken. The older students moved silently back toward their rooms and the first years trumped back to theirs.

"Slytherins."

The older Slytherins continued on, not even looking back, instinctively knowing through years with Snape that they weren't the ones he called for. 

Draco and Pansy stared at the professor who seemed to age in a matter of minutes.

"No matter what other people tell you, there will never be any doubt about why you're here. You are worth everything. You are as much a part of this school as anyone. Ignore them. Ignore their insults. You're Slytherins." His shadowy eyes were intense and black with conviction.

Draco led the nod and Snape acknowledged the agreement. Sweeping out of the common room, his words had left a tangible presence in the room.

"Let's go and pack. We'll be leaving soon." Draco's short words spurred them all into a flurry of movement.

As they entered the room, Pansy mumbled a few words and all her belongings flew into her case neatly. Millicent did the same, but Sylvie and Leda chose to pack it the old-fashioned way; by hand.

They each lay on their beds, left to their own thoughts, contemplating with a sudden level of maturity and startling clarity that what Snape and the older students had said was true. Too true. Fighting with Gryffindors was good and all, but… in the end, it was their choice. They couldn't blame anyone else.

And until the announcement that the carriages were ready to bring them back to the Hogwarts Express, they stayed that way.

~*~ FINIS ~*~

Notes:

The first few quotes of Dumbledore are directly taken from the book.

Pansy Parkinson is a character of Slytherin House rarely written about. On the occasion she is, she's usually labeled as the pug-faced, ill-natured, silly slut of Slytherin who has nothing better to do than chase Draco and block him from one of three true loves: Harry, Hermione, or Ginny. She's also known as the girl who shrieks insults, the girl who sleeps around, the girl who wreaks havoc, the girl who betrays everyone in Hogwarts, the girl who eagerly joins the Death Eaters and so on.

And here we thought Harry was the only one with the license on the inane usage of dictatorship-like roles.

Well, bullocks to that, I say.

If Draco Malfoy can be someone who will 'turn from evil' or 'be actually misunderstood' or 'he's just being tortured/abused/tormented by his father and he really does want to be good!', then so can any person from Slytherin.

Granted, I will admit that there are plenty of children in Slytherin who are most *likely* to turn out to be Death Eaters, there are also plenty who *are not*.

Personally, Slytherin house in my opinion has a lot more personality than Gryffindor. You can't automatically be 'good' in that house. You have to work for it and prove to yourself and others that you want to be part of the 'good team'. You have to make choices of whether to follow yourself or others.

Anyhoo, this is the first fic in a series of vignettes for Pansy Parkinson. Until the fifth book actually emerges from the black hole it's seemingly fallen into, I'll probably content myself with using quotes from various other timeframes… I may even jump between books. One chapter in book 4, the next one in 1. It'll vary with my mood. And it won't end until the seventh book is actually out.

Which means… long-term fic ahead! Not to worry. Each chapter/part/fic can be a stand-alone story. Therefore, there will be no need to die of curiosity of 'what happens in the next part'.