parkinson

gabrielle’s smirk got wider as she watched the other pink. she knew the effect she had on people, reveled in it even, and while pansy was different from others (in which capacity, gabrielle wasn’t ready to answer that question yet) gratification was felt in her chest when the other lowered her gaze.

“hmm,” gabrielle tilted her head, eyebrows raising as she examined pansy. she stood up and walked closer, breaking the invisible barrier that hung over them like a heavy cloth.  “what about…” she took a step closer, reaching out for pansy’s hair. “bright green?”

she laughs, airy and melodically, dropping her hand after letting it run faintly through pansy’s locks. she had an image of the other girl with shorter hair, etched in her mind more than a decade ago. she decided she liked this hair better, and had to stop herself from reaching out to touch it again.

gabrielle’s stare matched pansy’s, mirroring the other girl’s playfulness. “oh, you don’t want me to look like a pygmy puff, do you?” gabrielle started, lowering her chin slightly. “i’ve done light pink and lilac once or twice,” she added airily, answering the girl’s question. she stared at pansy a beat too long, the corners of her lips tugging up an bit higher. “you should try dying your hair sometime, it would make you look so…” she bit her lip at the end of that one, trying to choose her words carefully. “good,”

pansy could only maintain gabrielle’s gaze for so long before her eyes just had to flicker away. that game of chicken ended quite quickly. something about the way that gabrielle’s said “good” caused heat to rise up to pansy’s cheeks.  “you think so?”  pansy retorted with disbelieving chuckle, a hand lifting to brush back her hair. the other reached for her wand. “what color would you recommend?” 

rather than grant pansy any sort of satisfaction by verbally reacting to the ridiculous nickname, theodore simply scowled. and then she pinched his cheek. and suddenly, he wasn’t that concerned with whether she got any satisfaction, as he swatted her hand away. “don’t,” he cautioned, allowing his hand to fall to his side. 

“it wasn’t meant to be a compliment,” he mumbled, this time speaking through gritted teeth as he reluctantly turned to look at his friend. this conversation was not going how he planned, but it wasn’t completely lost, at least not yet. “i wouldn’t allow them the satisfaction,” he responded, slyly, a smirk appearing across his face as he took a sip from his drink. and just like that the conversation was saved, at least, for the time being. 

“i’d much rather enjoy a peaceful afterlife, without having to spend my time looking after those idiots,” he continued, allowing a chuckle to escape from his lips. “you’d be fine.”

if pansy had turned her eyes away from her work she would’ve seen gabrielle smirk, eyes lighting up. she wasn’t a stranger to compliments, her ¼ veela blood was the culprit of that, but there was something in the disinterested and honest way pansy had just complimented her that made her feel slightly mellow.

“mhm.” she nodded, eyes still focused on pansy’s hands, marveling the ease in which she could turn a piece of fabric into a fully formed skirt. where had she been when they taught that magic lesson. “i’m never not thinking about dying my hair, parkinson.” she said with a soft laugh.

if gabrielle felt an ounce of guilt for bothering pansy when she was clearly working, and when she could’ve really just asked at the front desk for her dress, it quickly dissipated when she saw the other girl smile lightly at her. other than it’s vastly superior fabric choice, there was a clear reason why she preferred twilfitt and tattings over the other clothing stores at diagon alley and hogsmeade, and it was standing in front of her.

“really? do i come over here to bother you that much?” gabrielle mused, biting her lip into a smirk. if she was honest to herself, she was starting to consider pansy parkinson a friendly face and they had never even seen each other outside of this store. well, send her to freaking azkaban for finding comfort in the people that were nice to her, considering she moved to london when everything and everyone was just picking up the pieces after the war. in a world looming with destruction, and death, and guilt, it was moments and people like this that made her forget about all the messed up things going on in their lives.

“i’ll keep you company.” she replied, taking a sit next to pansy, moving slowly.  “i hope the dress fits well, not that i have to hope much, considering how talented you are. you haven’t disappointed me once.”

it was amusing to see pansy work, almost entrancing to follow the movement of her hand as her wand moved up and down, weaving clothing into fruition. gabrielle caught herself staring, mouth ever so slightly open. before the silence stretched on any further, and to distract herself from the girl in front of her, gabrielle spoke. “do you think the dress would match my hair if i dye it a bit more silver?”

pansy let out a quiet, humming noise as her gaze remained on her work. her hand moved from side to side, up and down, swirls and squishes as the piece of fabric changed from just a roll to slender skirt that looked to be a little cinched at the waist. there was a bit of leftover fabric remaining which pansy contemplated on whether to make into a matching top - and try to sell it to the customer as a set. 

“i think the dress...would look good regardless of whether you dyed it more silver,” pansy remarked airily, her eyes lingering where they were. though despite her utmost nonchalance, there was the faintest - just the faintest - sliver of pink against the smooth skin of her cheek from gabrielle’s warm compliments. 

location: twilfitt and tattings

ft. @mellifluousmagic·

gabrielle didn’t need a new dress. she didn’t really need much of anything really, but it was boredom rather than need which moved her to put her shoes on and hit the streets of diagon alley. it was no place cachée, it lacked style and allure, but she had to admit diagon alley had its own picturesque charm.

she also had to admit there was a store she always gravitated to, swayed by it’s variety and quality and staff, often leaving with a handful of clothes she didn’t really have space for. she entered twilfitt and tattings, greeting the person at the front desk with a smile, she was basically a regular now, moving to the back to inquire about the dress she ordered a week ago.

“parkinson,” she greeted with a slight smirk, raising her eyebrows at the seamstress. she vaguely remembered pansy from a few years ago, when she was still a child when war hadn’t touched them yet, sitting at the slytherin table with her friends, matching scowls in all of their faces. she sometimes wondered if pansy remembered her too, she really hoped she didn’t, when she was still a mini-fleur and bleach hadn’t touched her hair yet.  basically a lifetime ago. “do i need to try the dress on again?”

“No.” Wyatt shot down the very idea of being a potioneer with a derisive snort, quick to correct Pansy’s impression with a matching smirk. “Even better, I’m a lawyer, so when all these drunkards inevitably end up with public intoxication tickets or worse, considering how rowdy these events tend to get, I will be able to swoop in and reap the benefits. Way bigger profit margin than selling hangover cures.”

pansy clicked her tongue at that, nodding her head at wyatt’s confession with a rather evident note of approval. 

mafalda didn’t go to the funeral for a MIRIAD of reasons. top of the list ? she wasn’t all too interested in attending another - she had already seen more DEATH in her lifetime than most her age. she paid condolences with a nice little peace sign to the SKY and she thinks that is suitable enough. the bonfire, however, was a no brainer. mafalda was looking for ginny ( HOW is it possible to lose a redhead ? ). her head pops in and out of the different crowds scattered all around and NO avail. but she does find a familiar face, and she plops down beside pansy. “prime people watching real estate right here - though i guess i should expect no less, hm?”

Michael was never one for funerals. They had always made him uncomfortable and he never really knew how to act or feel. Still, Michael paid his respects to the passed Sybill Trelawney, a professor who wasn’t exactly popular, but she did introduce him to the art of Divination that Michael grew into later in life. He didn’t stay long. He had a drink to take much of the edge off, chatting uncomfortably with a few people who knew Sybill well before excusing himself and seeing his way out.

The bonfire at the Shrieking Shack eased much of Michael’s tension. The outdoors allowed Michael to breathe without feeling stifled and the alcohol allowed one to become drunk without the worry of appearances unlike at the Three Broomsticks. 

Grabbing a drink, Michael scanned the crowd and approached Pansy sitting alone. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, a small smile on his mouth as he sat next to her, sighing as he did so. Resting his drink on the ground, he reached for the pack of smokes inside his pocket. He was quiet as took a drag, reaching again for his beer and studying the look on Pansy’s face. “Should we do some pyromancy? Read the flames in honor of our old divination professor?”

>            𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖘𝖒𝖔𝖐𝖊   𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊   had   settled   over   the   lawn   ,   casting   everything   in   a   hazy   film   .   he   found   the   lighthearted   energy   so   soon   after   things   went   to   hell   a   little   funny   .   these   were   the   momentary   breaks   ,   the   light   spots   in   a   shitshow   world   (   seriously   .   death   eaters   and   werewolves   and   dementors   ,   oh   my   !   )   .   blaise   takes   a   sip   of   his   drink   ,   smothering   his   own   laugh   at   pansyʻs   declaration   .   ❝   i   hope   you   fall   in   ,   ❞   he   jokes   ,   one   eyebrow   wiggling   .   ❝   then   itʻd   be   my   turn   to   play   hero   and   fish   you   out   .   i   think   i   deserve   at   least   ONE   moment   .   ❞

             his   head   lolls   to   the   side   ,   cheek   cushioned   on   the   top   of   her   head   .   ❝   fucking   funerals   ,   ❞   he   agrees   .   heʻd   been   to   too   many   ,   as   it   was   .   blaise   reaches   out   ,   poking   pansyʻs   scrunched   up   nose   with   a   chuckle   .   “   maybe   she   was   right   a   couple   times   with   her   predictions   ,   ”   he   jokes   ,   finding   it   way   too   easy   to   picture   the   woman   still   doing   readings   in   the   afterlife   .   ❝      i   bet   sheʻs   in   the   spirit   world   right   now   hounding   after   her   victims   with   an   ❛  _ i   told   you   so _  ❜   .   ❞

         𝖎𝖙ʻ𝖘   𝖆𝖑𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙   𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖋𝖚𝖑   ,   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖜𝖆𝖞   blaise   sweeps   into   the   memorial   service   ,   dropping   his   condolence   card   into   the   box   on   his   way   over   to   tucking   professor   greyʻs   hands   between   his   own   with   wide   eyes   .   his   voice   is   quiet   ,   respectful   ,   offering   up   a   hushed   ❛   iʻm   not   sure   if   you   remember   me   ,   professor   .   .   .   ❜   before   he   gives   his   sympathies   for   her   ex-wife   that   he   disparaged   on   the   regular   behind   the   doors   of   his   common   room   .   this   song   and   dance   is   an   EASY   one   .   he   makes   his   rounds   through   the   rest   of   the   guests   with   grace   ,   listening   in   on   anecdotes   and   shaking   his   head   mournfully   whenever   the   need   arose   .   he   is   the   picture   of   a   diligent   student   who   sorely   missed   a   teacher   gone   too   soon   .

         in   the   privacy   of   his   mind   ,   he   sends   a   thank   you   to   his   mother   .   he   wouldnʻt   be   such   a   dab   hand   at   funerals   without   all   the   practice   she   had   given   him   ,   after   all   .  

            the   bonfire   is   easier   still   .   his   jacket   had   long   since   been   vanished   to   somewhere   or   another   and   the   flippant   air   around   ,   regardless   of   the   actual   purpose   for   the   gathering   ,   is   a   much   more   familiar   one   .   he   collects   two   red   cups   of   something   cheap   and   strong-smelling   before   he   plops   down   next   to   pansy   ,   uncaring   of   the   way   that   the   log   pulled   at   the   fabric   .   blaise   was   due   for   another   funeral   suit   anyways   .   ❝   i   have   an   IMPORTANT   QUESTION   ,   ❞   he   begins   ,   one   of   the   cups   held   out   to   pansy   as   he   tries   his   best   to   look   dignified   in   their   chosen   seat   .   ❝   with   all   the   deaths   that   lady   predicted   ,   do   you   think   trelawney   ever   foresaw   about   a   handful   of   students   dying   at   her   own   funeral   ?   because   i   might   turn   around   and   believe   everything   she   ever   said   if   one   of   her   predictions   involve   large   fires   and   heavy   drinking   .   ❞