DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K.Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Finally, after seven years, she was done with Hogwarts. The ceremony had been unbelievably boring. She had sat there for what seemed like hours until her name was called, only to shake Dumbledore's wrinkled old hand and accept the bit of unimportant rolled parchment that signified her graduation.
As if it'd help her any. Dumbledore told them that being graduated would allow them to pursue any career they should want, and had tossed extremely conspicuous glances to the Slytherin section.
Pansy Parkinson wasn't allowed to work as she pleased. Yes, she was allowed to become a book clerk or cashier to pass the time, but that was only until she married. And her mother wanted her to marry within a few months time, so it didn't matter what she wanted. Sure, she could file books and check them out to people who had freedoms she did not have, but it'd be painful.
It seemed a bit odd to say she had no freedoms. After all, she'd been born in the house she currently resided in, and had the same rights as everyone else. The only problem was that her family was one of the wealthiest, purest lines out there. The thought made her cringe.
It had all began at a young age. Lessons to learn proper etiquette, lessons to dance correctly in about ten different ways, dressing, everything. And if there was one thing she despised, it was being taught to do things a certain way. Of course, it wasn't as though these lessons had no impact on her. She had become as she was expected. Proper, uptight, and cunning. Her family had always wanted her to be cunning, and she was.
That was why she was in Slytherin. The façade had become rather normal for her, so much that it became her. She acted as she was to. Now, however, her mother was gravely disappointed in her for not finding a husband. How could she be so inconsiderate?
Her father had died in her sixth year at Hogwarts. He was a Death Eater, and an awful one at that. He did not impress Voldemort, and had never succeeded in making it as far as the ever so cruel Lucius Malfoy had. Because of his inability to be good enough for the circle, Voldemort had killed him with a wave of his wand.
She had gotten over it by then. It was all in the past. Her mother hadn't cared. The two parents had been extremely different people, and Pansy had caught them cheating on each other a number of times. It got to the point where she had so many Parkinson family secrets in her head that she could've exploded.
Her mother had scolded her for not finding a worthy pureblood male in her house to marry. Now, Regina Parkinson was going to have to pick one for her herself. Normally, Regina would not have been against this, had it not been the way that she and her husband had paired up. And how she'd loathed him!
At first, she hadn't wanted the same fate for her daughter. But remaining pure was the most important thing in her life, and she wasn't going to let her only child screw that up for her. Despite how awful Pansy's life may turn out.
So now we're back to how we began. Pansy was lying on her bed, her black hair spraying out about her head. The sheets were just as soft as they'd always been against her skin, her pale, pale skin.
She had never been the prettiest girl in Hogwarts. Or the smartest, the tallest, the fullest, the sexiest, or anything. She was just Pansy Parkinson, an average Slytherin girl who had never had a boyfriend in her life.
A bit pitiful, yes. But Pansy had veered away from relationships, really becoming the friend to most guys. Despite pathetic crushes she'd had, none of them had seen her as anymore then a friend, and she accepted it. Millicent had been her only friend that was a girl. The rest had all been boys, and she seemed to have fit in with them much better than she did the others.
She twisted the edge of her blanket in between her fingers, glad to have persuaded her mother two years back to let her switch from pink to any other color. Her mother had chosen lavender, but it was at least better than pink.
The silky smooth blanket slipped in her hands, moistened by lotion, keeping her painfully dry skin to a minimum. She always had dry skin, and there wasn't much to do about it. Over the years, she had always had to carry around a bottle of lotion wherever she had gone. However, that's dreadfully off topic.
"Pansy?" A voice called from downstairs, a voice she recognized all to well as her mother's. A small sigh escaped her lips and she heaved off the bed, straightening her robes and heading towards her door. She paused a moment at it, wishing she didn't have to come to her mother's call, but sighed again and headed towards it.
"Yes, Mother?" She asked politely after she descended the stairs, observing her mother. Regina had always been an exceptionally pretty woman, the kind you expected to see on the front cover of Witch Weekly.
"I need to talk to you about your diminishing future." Regina said, eyeing her daughter a moment before waving her hand, directing her into the parlor.
Pansy walked in first, seating herself at one of the maroon, leather couches. Her back straightened against the back of the couch, her legs close together but not crossed, that gave you spider veins.
"What is it, Mother?" She asked, struggling to hold up her polite attitude towards her mother. If only she had the option of leaving home now… She'd be disowned, disregarded, and penniless. It was certainly not an option.
"It has come to my attention that you have very little time to find an appropriate bachelor for your marriage. Obviously, you cannot choose one for yourself, so I will be picking for you." She began, and Pansy fought the temptation to roll her dark eyes, maintaining a steady glance.
"Of course, Mother." She said, as she was expected to. Pansy had to agree with what her mother said; it was how she was raised.
"Good. If you actually plan to seduce someone even slightly attractive," Regina began, and Pansy's face tightened slightly at the mention of seduction, "you'll have to clean yourself up a bit. I've arranged a specialist to fix that pug nose of yours, and then do something about that mop on your head. I have also hired a professional to come and teach you the proper way to apply make up, seeing as you've never touched the stuff. And then we'll deal with your clothes. Something tighter, fitter." Regina explained, and Pansy did all she could not to groan.
Her mother believed that if you didn't look pretty, you weren't going to get married and you certainly weren't going to have any place in the wizarding world. And Pansy was in no place to object to her mother.
"Of course, Mother." She repeated, forcing the weakest and fakest of smiles she'd ever produced.
"Good. Tomorrow at two, be prepared to head for the specialist." Regina finished, standing up and heading out of the room.
Pansy stood up as well, walking soundly out of the parlor and up into her room, where she flopped onto her bed and proceeded to groan as loud as she possibly could into her pillow.
This felt as though everything Pansy had been was being ripped away from her. She hadn't ever taken pride in the fact that she was not the best of anything, but it was who she is! And now her mother was going to take it away merely so some pureblood snob would spare her a second glance.
She stayed in her room most the day, reading novels that told of two people who had fallen in love, not worrying about the difference of their blood or the way that the two looked. They had fallen in sync with each other. Although to Pansy, these would always just be a fairy tale; something to help her sleep at night.
By two the next day, she was waiting for her mother in the foyer. Just as the clock went five minutes after, her mother walked into the hallway.
"To Number 16, Grishom Hall," Regina told her, nodding simply before she apparated from sight. Pansy followed, dreading her fate.
When she arrived, she found herself on the porch of a modern looking building. It looked nothing like the enchanting Hogwarts castle or the aged stone of the Manor. Her mother was waiting impatiently for her by the door, a large, oak door. She approached it wearily, wondering if this was going to hurt. If only she had a say!
As they reached the door, Regina pressed the circular button by the door and Pansy heard what sounded like a bell. Moments later, the door opened, and there stood a very well-kept man who looked to be about the age of her mother.
"Ah, good evening Mrs. Parkinson." He said, brushing invisible dirt off his expensive suit, opening the door further to allow them in.
The home looked nothing like anyplace she had ever been in. The walls were painted dull beige, decorated by plaques and ribbons. What looked to be a lantern was on the ceiling, but she could see no fire.
"Pansy, this is Doctor Seiveknotte." Her mother whispered to her, and Pansy merely nodded, unable to say anything. Any hopes she had for this not hurting were gone.
At last, she followed her mother into a room surrounded by metal on every wall. Doctor Seiveknotte instructed her to sit on a chair in the middle of the room. She did so, nervously, placing her hands in her lap.
"I know just ze curse to cure jour little nose problem." Doctor Seiveknotte said with a very unconvincing accent. He pulled a podium towards him that had a very large book on it. With a wave of his ebony wand, the pages flipped absentmindedly to rest on one near the end.
He said nothing more, merely pointed his wand straight at her nose, causing her to not only cross her eyes but become extremely nervous.
"Redintegro!" He shouted, and a blast of electric blue light shot from his wand, hitting Pansy square in the nose.
It felt like pinpricks of needles all over her skin, and then the pain increased, feeling like someone was punching her in the nose while wearing brass knuckles. She let out a short whimper, not wanting to make her mother angry with her.
And then it was done.
She opened her eyes, staring miraculously around the room. Her mother looked a cross between shocked and impressed, while Doctor Seiveknotte looked very impressed with his work. He grabbed a mirror off a desk nearby, handing it to her.
Shakily, she brought it to her face.
A small gasp emitted from her lips and she looked at herself in awe. It was as if she was an entirely different person. Her black hair was still a bit matted and tangled, and her eyes watery from the pain, but she looked…pretty…
Never before had Pansy been used to ever thinking of herself as even the slightest bit attractive. But she grinned, a surprisingly white smile. Perhaps the spell had made her teeth go from a dull white to a sparkling, shining white. She grinned broader, putting down the mirror and turning to her mother.
Her mother smiled a little, something she hadn't seen her mother do in years.
"Thank you, Doctor." Pansy told him, standing up and resisting the urge to brush off her robes, which would have been dreadfully unnecessary. She was still grinning, recollecting the person in the mirror.
But it faded quickly. Her mother was doing this so some man wouldn't object to marrying her. She suddenly wished she had the nose back, only to cover herself up from the men she was to meet.
"What did he do?" Pansy asked quietly as her mother headed out the door.
"He just transformed your nose. It was spectacular, really, and you look much better." Regina said with a soft smirk, apparating out of sight.
Pansy merely guessed that her mother had returned home and did so as well, hurrying up the cold stone staircases to her room to stare at the nose some more.
As soon as she arrived home, her mother assured her into the extra study, once belonged to her father. However, the room had been transformed into a salon, it seemed. A sink with a comfortable looking leather chair in front of it, a vast array of hair products and a giant book on spells for hair. Mirrors lined every wall, some a different angle and some of the magnification a little different. Lanterns hung atop the mirrors, making Pansy feel ashamed of what had become of her father's study.
Great. So now she was getting the hair part of her done. Her hair had grown long now, much longer than fifth year, and was just about halfway down her upper arms. It was usually tangled and frizzy, sticking up every which way.
"Ah! Welcome!" Called the plump woman jovially, scurrying over to where Pansy stood in the doorway.
"Pansy, this is Renadele. She'll be doing your hair." Regina explained with a sickly sweet grin, tossing her hair over her shoulder and heading back out the door. "I'll be back in a while." She said, disappearing from sight.
Pansy looked nervously to Renadele. The woman had an almost treacherous smile on her face. Pansy merely attempted to return a weak grin.
"Sit." Renadele instructed, waving her chubby arm towards the leather chair.
Pansy did as she was told, waiting impatiently. She hated to have her hair touched by anyone. And she certainly wasn't prepared for Renadele to push Pansy back so her hair was in the sink and then begin to run water over it.
Renadele used a very good scented shampoo and conditioner in her hair, lathering each one for ten minutes a piece. When she finished, she rinsed it very well and waved her wand so it dried straight.
"Now… Let me see… I believe that with your face shape, you'll have straight hair. But your hair is terribly thin… Ah yes, we'll fix it right up. Just a quick spell…" Renadele said, brandishing her oak wand and pointing it at Pansy. She clearly spoke a spell and Pansy's head felt a fraction of an inch heavier. She reached up, feeling its soft and thick strands.
Pansy waited for the rest to be finished, and Renadele merely smiled.
"Darling, every morning, I will expect you to wash and dry your hair and then perform this spell. It is called Drenesectir Moriuliam." Explained Renadele, waving her wand and enchanting the spell. Any curls that had been previously there were gone now, and her hair reached down a bit father. "Certainly going to work for you."
"Uh… Good…" Pansy said quietly.
"Now, if you want to put it up, you've got to carefully, and I mean carefully brush it back with this comb. Your mother ordered you a few of these, so you should be fine. And always allow hair down on the sides of your face." Renadele said, reminding Pansy of some of the girls in school. "But I suggest not wearing it up unless it's a fancy event or function. If you're going casual, wear it down. And on a date, wear it down."
Pansy frowned as she looked in the mirror in front of her. Her hair looked very pretty, long and silky straight, thick and not shining against the light. She was beginning to look like a completely different person. Her face no longer had any pug qualities and her hair no longer matted or waved in some places and stood stringy and straight in others.
"Now wait just a moment." Renadele ordered, raising her wand and waving it.
The room instantly transformed into what looked like a makeup parlor. There was a long line of eyeshadows, blushes, foundations, illuminators, eye liners, lip liners, mascaras, and any other bit of makeup you could ever wish to own. The mirrors and lanterns stayed the same but the sink was gone.
"Let's see. You're extremely pale, dear. Before we get started on the make up, let's take you to a little place I like." Renadele said with a wicked grin, co-apparating with Pansy to another place.
This place was large and modern as the surgeon's house had been. Renadele led her into the door and a thin, very tan woman behind the counter stood up.
"Can I help you?" She asked, tossing her blonde hair behind her shoulder.
"Yes, this dear here needs a tan." Renadele said, and Pansy's eyes widened dramatically. The woman behind the counter smiled, nodding knowingly and leading Pansy to another door near the back.
"All right, just take off your clothes and get into there. It's your first time tanning, isn't it?" The woman asked sweetly.
"Yes." Pansy said quietly, dreading this. She was going to be as red as a strawberry. And she had a feeling this was a muggle place, because instead of lanterns, there were circular bulbs and a cord running to the wall.
"All right, five minutes ought to do it. I'll ring a buzzer and the lid will open." The woman finished, nodding and leaving the room.
Pansy quickly stripped out of her clothes, cautiously slipping onto the bed type thing. She picked up the goggles laid for her and pulled them over her newly prettied hair, and the lid closed on her.
She felt extremely claustrophobic at the moment, and the lights burning on her pale skin were making her a bit worried.
She lay there worriedly for five minutes until she heard an extremely annoying buzzer, then the lid rose. She hurried out, not sparing herself a glance before she pulled her clothes back on.
When she walked out, she quickly came to Renadele, who had paid the woman with odd strips of paper.
"We'll be back tomorrow." Renadele told the woman before grabbing Pansy's hand and leading her outside.
"Was that a muggle place?" Pansy asked, pulling her hand away from the odd salon woman.
"Yes. I told her you were extremely self conscious of your body, so you wore that hideous dress." Renadele said, referring to Pansy's robes.
Pansy blushed quickly and apparated back home.
Renadele began quickly on makeup, setting Pansy in the chair and picking up one of the foundation bottles. She quickly applied it to Pansy's face, then setting it down and moving on to one of the many powders.
After that, she began on Pansy's eyes, lining them with eyeliner and covering the lids with light eye shadow, then applying mascara. Pansy sat still through it all, having the feeling she was going to look like Millicent had when the poor girl had attempted make up.
But when she was finished, Pansy nearly gasped at the outcome. She looked almost the same, just more fine tuned, and her face looked a lot darker than she remembered. Her eyes looked larger and the darkness of them seemed to fit more with her skin color than it ever had.
She could've grinned, had it not been for the fact that this was all for her mother.
Upon that thought, Regina Parkinson walked into the room, gasping in approval.
"Oh, you did a great job, Rena! Absolutely wonderful! Now, Rena will tell you how to apply it all so you can do it yourself. Oh, I'm very, very pleased." Regina said happily.
"You'll have to take her back to the tanning bed tomorrow, and make sure she dresses like a muggle." Renadele told her, seeming to have cringed at the nickname of 'Rena', but carried on to clean up a bit.
Pansy nodded. "Thanks." She said, looking miserably to her mother before Regina left.
They spent an hour perfecting how to apply the makeup.
When Pansy had finally begun the road to perfection of applying the makeup, she set it down, and her mind raced.
She was going to marry someone her mother chose, be forced to conceive their child, and then would not even get to raise the child. A maid would feed, change, and play with the baby while Pansy was to wait until it is old enough to even recognize her and not the maid as its mother.
Her eyes, surrounded with makeup, began to well in large droplets of tears. She felt an unfamiliar stinging in her cheeks, and quickly began to gather her robes. She, a Parkinson, could not cry. Ever. It would be one more thing for her mother to condescend her on.
"You all right, dearie?" Renadele asked as she waved her wand to collect the makeup.
"Fine!" Pansy told her coldly, leaving the room and shutting the door that once would be the door she passed to come see her father when he returned from work.
He would always pull his child to his lap and tell her lies of how wonderful his day had been. She knew it was a lie, but giggled and grinned to him when he wanted. However, as she had grown older, he didn't lie anymore. He didn't even tell her about his fake wonderful days. She would sit in the chair across his desk and tell him how horrible Dumbledore was and McGonogall, and how everyone was putting up this big fit about Voldemort.
Until he died. Then she had nothing. Nobody to tell her troubles to and nobody to listen. Yes, she could've told her friends, but they were boys, and most had a very small emotional range, unable to comprehend her feelings or listen to her for longer than their attention spans allowed.
Sighing, she flopped onto her bed, dark hair spraying out across it, masking her new perfection. She wanted to mess up her hair, to smear the makeup, to change her nose back! But she had no option. She was now the trophy wife that she was always supposed to be.
Now, rather than men giving her one glance and turning to a prettier girl, she would be destined to live life the way her mother or family chose for her. The horror…