Let the Darkness Become You

Let the Darkness Become You

~*~

Chapter One

A pansy is a kind of violet. In magical terms, it is noteworthy for its appearance in Shakespeare's play A Midsummer Night's Dream, in which it is referred to by its other name of "love-in-idleness." In the play, Puck used the juice of the pansy to cause most of the trouble, squeezing drops of it onto the eyes of unsuspecting sleepers to cause them to fall in love with the next creature they saw. We do not know if the juice of the pansy has similar properties in the Harry Potter universe, however. ~ The Lexicon

*~*

My family's genealogy runs far back into the time of Merlin our bloodlines pure and ancient. Parkinson was a name drawn from noble lineage and one that remained untainted through the centuries; a name that has forever been blessed with a wealth and prestige that placed us above most of the wizarding world. My family was respected not only for our money, but for the social status of supremacy that accompanied a household of our history. I was born into this life of prestige on a late summer evening in June, second daughter to Victor Parkinson and his young wife Penelope.

As current heirs they resided in the summer estate of the Parkinsons, which sat on the fringes of Hastings. It was not a much celebrated event, my birth. My parents had been trying for a son and heir since their first child had been female. Unfortunately, I also turned out to be female. I was extremely well cared for as a child, however. I have the gleeful memories of taking rides with Father upon one of his expensive Aethonans and having tea with Mother and my aunts. As I grew my position and relationship with my parent's would change. Little did I know that this change would be one of the largest obstacles I would ever over come.

*~*

"No, Pansy," Mother said firmly before turning back to her conversation with the nervous seamstress.

I made a face behind her back, but stopped my whining. At six I had learned that when Mother or Father said no there would be no more heard about it... for the time being. I turned to look towards the dress once again, ignoring my sister's haughty glance as she joined in the conversation. At eleven Zella was considered old enough to pick out her own dresses, with Mother's approval of course.

I, however, had to wear whatever Mother decreed appropriate for the ball. I stole another glance at the dress before me, my eyes sweeping over the elaborately embroidered red fabric and mentally tracing the graceful folds. I was too small to wear it, but I had wanted a smaller one made for me as Zella was getting done. Instead I would be forced to wear the plain but expensive black dress my mother had chosen for me. Appearance was always a must in my family and the more expensive the better.

I glared at the dress that was currently being held by one of our maids, Linda. The girl grinned in amusement at my resentment and I glared at her too. I hated being laughed at.

"Stop making those faces, child!" Mother snapped. She had turned while I was still glaring at Linda and had her hands on her hips. "I swear," she continued, handing the rest of her purchases to the maid, "what am I going to do with you? You better behave if you want to play with the other kids at the ball!"

I ducked my head shamefully although I knew it was an empty threat. Mother would be too busy later tonight to notice if I disobediently slipped away to play; besides Father would never deny my anything... well almost anything. Mother sighed from above me, muttering under her breath as she propelled my sister and me out of the door. Linda followed obediently behind us.

"Mother?" Zella asked. "Can I have an owl for school?"

"We'll see," she replied absently, eyeing the dense crowd with obvious disgust.

I tried to mirror her expression, knowing what was souring her mood. Parkinsons never mixed with ordinary wizards and Diagon Alley was filled with them as parents prepared to send their children off to school in two weeks.

I saw a lot of people Zella's age dodging through the crowds and peering into windows. My sister obviously did too because her expression turned to one of longing. I smirked to myself. Mother would never allow her to run around like everyone else.

Our mother sighed. "Linda," she beckoned. She was there in an instant. All of our servants had been trained to perfection.

"Bring those home," Mother directed, "then return for Zella's supplies. Don't worry about the expense, but tell them to send us an outline of the costs. I will be at Miranda's going over the guest list."

The maid nodded, moving into the flow of the crowd immediately. "But Mother!" Zella protested. "I wanted to-"

She cut off her sentence as Mother raised a brow; that was all that was needed. Zella bowed her head sullenly. "Thank you for arranging for my things," she replied meekly.

Mother didn't see the scowl on her daughter's face as she patted her cheek, thoughts already turned elsewhere. But I did and I never forgot it.

*~*

"I hate black," I muttered with loathing as Linda slipped the garment over my head, muffling my statement.

Zella sighed. She was sitting at her vanity table dragging a brush through her dark brown curls.

"You know you can't do anything about it," she informed me, piling her hair on top of her head and examining the effect. "Mother wouldn't allow you to wear anything else."

Looking at my reflection in the full length mirror I twisted my face in distaste, causing my nose to flatten noticeably. Zella walked up behind me her eyes glinting in amusement, only serving to sour my mood. Six I might be, but I knew when I looked ridiculous. The black of the dress made me look like some sort of porcelain doll with pale skin and a childlike face. My black curls were tamed into a simple bow and even my blue eyes stared out at myself like those from a doll, glazed and lifeless. I shivered.

Zella looked beautiful, however, the gold of the dress setting off her naturally dark looks and adding highlights to her brown curls. Her hair remained piled on her head, revealing a long neck and aristocratic face. Her eyes glinted out at me, as blue as my own. They were the Parkinson eyes as my Father often chuckled to himself. It was the only feature Zella had inherited from him.

My mood dimmed. Standing next to Zella I felt like an awkward shadow. Although my sister still exhibited the ordinary features of an eleven year old it would not be long before she started to enter the exciting stages of adolescence. I envied her. Apparently I wasn't the only one who had noticed the changes that were permeating my sister. Father raised his brows in silent approval as Mother smirked, showing her pleasure in her eldest daughter. I stayed back as they entered the ballroom, watching as inevitable events unfolded wheeling my sister away.

I enjoyed the festivities of the ball for as long as I could, keeping a careful eye on the front doors as the evening progressed. It would not be long before the nursemaids came in to herd all of the children to the nursery for the rest of the night. Children only became an unnecessary nuisance as adults participated in "older" games, as my mother had inadequately stated once. I spent most of my free time watching Zella. She was dancing with a lot of the boys that she had once played in the nursery with. My sister had met many of the young people that gathered around her at other balls my parents had attended.

There was one person in particular that caught my eye. He was tall and dark. I really didn't have anything to compare him with to say that he was handsome, but I knew that Zella thought so. Every time he teasingly tugged on her curls or whispered something to her she would blush madly. I didn't like him.

"Neil Lestrange," a voice behind me said, causing me to jump in surprise.

Swirling around, I found myself staring at a boy around my age. He stared at me unabashedly, taking in the hideous black dress as he smirked. His short blonde hair was perfectly combed and his dress robes, which were also black, were immaculate.

"What?" I asked him.

"That's Neil Lestrange," he informed me, pointing to the boy that Zella was currently whispering with... again.

"Oh," I replied dumbly, still surprised to see someone my own age that I did not recognize. At every other party there had been the usual small number of children I had become accustomed to such as Milly, Adam, Gary, and the multitude of younger cousins I had on my mother's side. "How do you know?"

"I know everyone," he replied smugly, although he couldn't possibly have proven that. "Besides, he's a cousin of one of my father's friends."

I nodded. That sounded more accurate. The boy was looking at my dress again. I frowned- he was a rather rude person. You would have thought that anyone our age would have better manners by now, especially if you grew up in one of our families.

He obviously thought the same since he scowled when I rudely turned my back on him to watch my sister with possessive eyes. I really didn't like that boy... what was his name again? Neil?

A voice cleared its throat behind me. I sighed, turning to look at him. "Yes?" I asked.

He wasn't smirking anymore but seemed angry. "You didn't introduce yourself."

I stared at him causing his frown to deepen across his young face. "You were supposed to introduce yourself," he insisted.

"You came over here first," I pointed out, turning away again.

He grabbed my arm angrily to thwart me from doing so. "What do you want?" I hissed in frustration.

"A name." He was annoyingly determined, gray eyes intent on me.

I glared at him. "Will you go away if I give it to you?"

He shrugged.

"Pansy," I snapped at him. "Pansy Parkinson."

The boy nodded, apparently satisfied. I scowled when he didn't return the favor and instead started to walk towards the doors from which the nursemaids had appeared. Running over to them I instantly spied my friend Millicent, who was tugging on her lavender dress uncomfortably. "Do you know who that new boy is?" I demanded.

Looking up to scan the growing crowd of children she narrowed her murky brown eyes. "The short one?"

I laughed. "Yes."

She shrugged. "Draco Malfoy. I've met him over at Dorie's a couple of times. He wouldn't let me play with his charmed dragon model."

"He doesn't sound like much fun," I commented, leading the way up to the nursery which happened to be adjacent to my bedroom.

"He isn't," she confirmed.

Much later that night after two broken toys, a huge tantrum, and lethally thrown marbles I added Draco Malfoy to my list of people I did not like. He was second only to Neil Lestrange.

*~*

It was only a month after my sister's departure to Hogwarts for her first year and already things had become different. My mother immediately informed me that I was to begin my training as a representative of the family name. This included basic skills in my Hogwarts academic studies, a multitude of etiquette lessons, and a certain air of "sophistication" (whatever that word meant) that I never seemed to grasp.

I was told that all of these requirements would only help me to rise in the ranks of my own class. Understandably at the age of six this was all confusing to me. Getting a present each time I did well was not confusing, however, and I thrived on the attention of my beaming parents. With Zella gone to school I became the center of attention to my parents and relatives for the first time. I'm not going to lie when I say that it was a definite improvement.

These lessons continued throughout my remaining years at home with Mother relentlessly urging me on as I went through tutor after tutor, all of whom had some precise skill to offer me to see me succeed on my set path through life. My only break would be when Zella came home for the summer, full of stories of Hogwarts and sympathetic to my struggles.

"It's hard," she confided in me late one night as I lay on her bed, watching her brush her hair one hundred times as we did every night.

I sighed in frustration. "Why must we do it?"

"Because of who we are," she explained patiently. In the mirror her face reflected back towards me, showing her surprise. "We are Parkinsons, pureblooded and almost royal compared to others. It is demanded of us-"

"...to fulfill the family name," I chorused along with her, familiar with Mother's teachings.

Zella smiled at me. "You'll get it eventually."

I nodded glumly, secretly not confiding in my sister that it was only when she was at home that I seemed to do badly. Zella was always outdoing herself and was the center of attention no matter where she went. I knew it wasn't really her fault. It was in her personality to be such a dynamic person. You couldn't help but want to flock to her. It irritated me to no end, however, that I seemed to never be able to compare to the vision of beauty before me, at least not in my parents' eyes.

*~*

Just like the summers throughout our childhood there were balls to be attended every weekend. My parents had always remained at the center of their social circle and we were known for our grand parties. Not to mention that our manor looked out over Pett Beach, its glimmering surface magnificent at sunset. To my surprise on a weekend that we normally would have hosted a ball I was informed that we would be going to a manor I had never been to.

I was ten at the time and once again wearing one of Mother's hand-picked dresses. It was just as hideous as the others had been; while it was not the trademark black it was almost just as bad - it was pink! And a pale pink at that! The offending dress did not do anything for me except draw unwanted attention to the fact that I looked like a walking piece of discarded bubblegum. I'm sure that my disgruntled expression did nothing to improve my looks either.

Tugging on the horrible dress self-consciously, I pressed up against the wall of the massive ballroom. I felt lost in the huge sea of unrecognizable faces as the large masses of adults swarmed around me, immersed in their own world. The mansion that we had arrived at earlier was overbearing in its dominance and decorations. Nothing we did at home had ever been this grand and I suddenly felt very small hidden where I was to avoid being pushed around.

"Nice dress," a voice beside me suddenly sneered.

I whirled around prepared to defend what remained of my dignity only to stare at a pair of boys my own age. The boy to my right was tall and skinny with a mop of dark hair and beady black eyes. He watched me quietly with an unreadable face. Unfortunately, the emblazoned smirk plastered across a pale pointed face was all too familiar to me.

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically, eyeing Draco with dislike.

Over the years I had come to recognize the name Malfoy more often in my family than I cared for. The Malfoys were quickly becoming mandatory socialites in my mother's eyes and were invited to every outing/ball/gathering/tea possible as we were to theirs. Narcissa Malfoy and my mother spent considerable time together resulting in the inevitable fact that Draco and I were thrown together in the nursery for every visit.

If ever there was a need for excruciating and intense torture just stick someone in a room with this boy for a couple hours and I would like to see if they could handle being polite to him as well. And he thinks that I complain? Boys...

"This is Dorie," Draco said, shaking his bangs out of his eyes casually.

I looked over at the other boy, his name somehow familiar. "You're Millicent's friend?" Dorie asked.

"Yes, although I haven't seen her here yet," I answered, instantly placing him as the same Dorie that Milly so constantly talked about.

The two boys laughed for some reason finding immense humor in my comment.

I glared at them, hating when people laughed at me.

Sensing my growing irritation Draco smiled. "She wouldn't be at this party," he stated, as if I should have known. "Only the 'important' families come here."

I felt a mixed feeling of pride in my family name and pity that my best friend couldn't be here. Nobody, however, can ever feel too important around Draco as he hurriedly added, "Although your family made it. Maybe it has something to do with Neil."

Irritation growing just at the mention of another person I so intensely disliked, not to mention the jibe about my family, I snapped, "So how do you know this O-Wise-One?"

He shrugged. "Everyone does."

Just as I was about to argue that not everyone knew, dinner was announced and the crowds began moving towards a large golden gilded dining hall. I was surprised to find myself actually seated at the adult table on Mother's left before realizing that the table was falling silent, the adults expectantly waiting.

I looked towards the wizard who sat at the head of the table. He was a tall and broad man, his face only showing the first sign of age in the crinkles at the corner of sharp brown eyes and the hint of gray in the slicked back brown hair. His sharp gaze took in his large hall of guests before he raised his crystal glass. "Honored guests," he began, his voice echoing in the silence.

Zella, who was seated across from me, smiled at Neil whose father was hosting the ball. For some reason I felt my heartbeat flutter nervously as Mister Lestrange continued, "I am privileged as a father to make known to you all that my son Neil," he motioned for him to rise, "is now betrothed to Zella Parkinson."

The table reacted automatically, an ardent applause spreading around the room even though this was what they must have been expecting. I remained staring at my sister in shock, my expression dumbfounded.

Betrothed! I couldn't believe it. She was just entering her fifth year at Hogwarts and she was promised. A shadow crept over me as I continued to stare, events slowing...

Zella was smirking at Neil, who looked back at her seriously, arching a sophisticated brow. His eyes seemed too devouring... too assured.

A beaming Mother and Father watched their daughter knowingly as the nearby guests smiled and congratulated them. None of them seemed bothered by the fact that this had all been articulately approved and decided without Zella's agreement. It could have been someone she loathed or didn't even know other than the handsome boy who now whispered something in her ear, causing her to giggle.

I had no doubts that Zella's betrothal would lead to my own. My entire life would be promised away, all neatly packaged and mailed towards a destiny I suddenly realized I would never get to choose.

*~*

"Hello, sis," Neil teased.

He tugged on one of my curls as he strode confidently into our entrance hall, managing to look strikingly handsome as always. I frowned at him, closing the book I had been flipping through on my way to the family room. Ever since the engagement of Neil to my sister almost a year earlier, he had cursed me with that irritating nickname, one he knew I loathed.

"Where's Zel?" he demanded, dark eyes supervising the servants closely as they took hold of the multitude of bags that had come with him. As usual, Neil hadn't announced that he was coming for a visit as courtesy demanded. He'd developed a lot of these annoying habits over the past year.

"Shopping with Mother," I answered shortly, brushing away a strand of hair.

He grinned at me.

"I can wait. In the meantime let me introduce you to my guest."

I hadn't realized that someone else was in the room. As I glanced behind him in surprise he beckoned the other person forward.

"I have been assured that you two have met," Neil said with obvious delight as the boy behind him moved forward. "But here is the formal introduction. Draco Malfoy, allow me to present my young sister-in-law to be, Pansy Parkinson."

I simply raised a bored brow taking in the changes that had occurred since the last time we had met. It had at least been three months ago at the small dinner party the Malfoys had hosted. He had hardly changed in that time; still skinny, pale, and the same height as me. However, he had slicked his hair back in a horrible attempt to look older than the eleven years he was and I almost choked with the effort it took to hold back my laughter. As usual, over the years he had acquired the habit of displaying that damned annoying smirk he thought made him look so much more sophisticated.

"Pleasure," I said coolly, the chill in my words manipulating the meaning.

Neil frowned at me, but Draco's smirk just deepened. To my amazement he grabbed my hand and bowed formally over it. I quickly snatched it back, a mixture of confusion and if-you-do-that-again-I'll-kill-you splashed across my face.

"What are you doing here?" I asked bluntly.

Both of them raised their brows in surprise. I didn't care if I was rude or not.

"Draco is visiting for a few weeks with me," Neil answered carefully, his frown significant. "I thought it would be nice for you to have a companion your own age as I steal Zella away."

That summer quickly became one of the worst in my life. With only two months until I began my life at Hogwarts the days seemed to drag by unceremoniously. Protocol demanded that I attend to Draco's every entertainment as the only hostess his own age. A duty I performed with reluctance and without finesse, as he so commonly informed me. We picked at each other, argued, broke things, and hurt feelings; although I sometimes think that it is impossible to ever 'hurt' a Malfoys feelings.

On his last day at our manor we were amusing ourselves in the gardens, which basically meant that I daydreamed and pretended to listen to whatever Draco was currently bragging about.

"This is boring," I complained. I was picking at the grass absently and tossing the remains into a laurel of catnips, which snapped at them playfully, their brilliant petals opening and closing.

Draco rode one of my father's old brooms nearby, muttering the entire time about "ancient sticks."

"Well if I had a halfway decent broom then maybe I could show you some real stunts," he insisted.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't want to do this anymore. Let's do something else."

Scowling, Draco jumped off the broom and stomped over to where I sat and sprawled out in the grass beside me. "You complain too much," he declared, tossing away the broom with a look of disgust.

"At least I'm not a spoiled brat," I shot back, but the retort was an old one. Not in the mood to fight I laid back as well, turning towards him to rest on an elbow.

He looked thoughtful, the skin on his forehead creased and his eyes squinted into the bright sky above. I noticed that he had gotten a bare tan from being outside so much and remembered the amusing day weeks ago when he had come in so red and burnt.

"Do you ever go down to the beach?" he wondered out loud, disturbing my thoughts as he looked over at me.

I hesitated. "Not without my father usually, the only way to get there is on broomstick or to Apparate."

He sighed and peered over at the discarded broom. "I doubt that could carry both of us and I've never flown double."

His face suddenly lit with a smile and he sat up quickly. "What about the stables?" he wondered, turning towards me.

I considered the strong and thick build of my father's Aethonians. They were magical creatures made for flight with their thick muscular legs and long strong wings. I had never ridden one by myself and doubted that either one of us could control one.

"I don't know..." I said slowly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Ah, come on... for the love of Salazar, don't be boring!"

I hardly spared him a glance of irritation. "But my parents aren't home," I whined.

He smiled wickedly. "Exactly, why not sneak off on one down to the beach? It's not like your father would keep anything dangerous."

The idea started to have growing strengths as I considered how much more interesting that would be than to listen to Draco brag some more. The deciding factor finally came when Draco enlisted the help of a game we had played all summer.

Eyes glinting, he drawled, "I Salazar challenge you."

It is strange how good ideas never seem like good ideas once they fail. Everything had been going fine despite my worries, and Draco had just set the massive horse into a decent (all the while bragging of his riding abilities) when the horse plunged into a breathtaking dive. The world became a blur as the horse hurtled towards the sandy dunes of the beach, its legs flattened to its stomach. Just as we nearly slammed into the sandy beach the horse pulled out of its dive and gave a massive buck, sending both of us into the shallows nearby.

Water enclosed over my head and for a split second I had the panicked thought that I was going to drown, then I realized that I was aching all over from landing in the shallows. Jerking up and spluttering for air, I had hardly made it back to the beach than two figures Apparated in front of me.

"Pansy!" Zella yelled, running towards me as I sat shaking in the sand. I could see Draco lying on his back nearby, nodding to something a grim Neil was saying.

"Are you okay?" my sister demanded, falling to her knees beside me. Whipping out her wand she flicked it over me, her eyes darting over my body with concern. I was just starting to grasp the fact that she was doing magic out of school when she gave an affirmative nod and tucked it away.

Concern still creasing her face, she helped me to shakily stand and make my way towards Neil and Draco. By the time we reached them Draco was sitting up and gave me a weak grin, which turned into a grimace as Neil hauled him to his feet.

"Bruised ribs," Neil stated, staring over Draco's head at Zella.

My sister shook her head. "She's fine. Will you see to the horse?"

Nodding Neil started down the beach and whistled shrilly. In the distance I could just make out a large shadow diving in and out of the water, before Zella said, "This may feel awkward," and I was squeezed into a tight space.

When I finally woke up later that night it was to the warm glow of a nearby light and Zella's hovering face. Marking a page in a huge tome she had been reading she sat on the bed beside me and handed me a glass of water. Sipping it appreciatively I studied her over its rim.

"What happened?" I demanded, vague memories drifting back to me.

She sighed. "You passed out as I Apparated you and Draco back to the manor."

I stared at her.

"But... but you're..." I couldn't hide my disbelief and finally settled for just staring at her.

Looking uncomfortable Zella tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "Mum and Dad don't know what happened. As far as they're concerned you overheated today and got sick going up the stairs while they were at Aunt Belinda's. Neil and Draco left when scheduled and with nothing wrong."

When she finally met my eyes she sighed and said, "What you did today was stupid, Pansy. You're lucky Neil and I were nearby to see you go down. As for what happened afterwards..." her face got serious and she met my eyes squarely, "it was nothing. It is very important that you understand this. Do you?"

I nodded at her, although my head was beginning to pound with the implications of what I was consenting to. I was agreeing to pretend that I had not seen my sister and her betrothed do magic outside of Hogwarts or even Apparate. I was agreeing to remain quiet although I knew full well that sixth-years-to-be did not know that level of magic and that the Ministry should have been alerted to their rule-breaking. That was what worried me the most. What level of magic could be so strong as to be able to go around the age restriction laws and what was my sister doing with that knowledge?

*~*

There were so many people! I looked about me in amazement as I followed my parents through the crowds of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. I didn't recognize any of them, a fact that would soon need to be amended. It was important to always be aware of who everyone was whether they were worth knowing or not.

I stopped, clasping my hands together expectantly as my parents turned to bid me farewell. My black robes were immaculate, my unruly hair twisted into a thick braid and a new cloak draped over my shoulders. No Parkinson could be seen in public as anything other than what we were... wizarding superiors.

"Remember, Pansy," Mother began, "you now have a name and reputation to maintain. I know that you will do your best to bring pride to the family."

She kissed the air above my head in her idea of a motherly embrace even that small gesture showing a little too much publicly. I noticed a nearby group of students that I didn't know watching us intently, whispering.

Father immediately drew me from my thoughts as he added, "Be careful in how you choose to represent yourself and be wise in your choice of friends."

My father had never been a subtle man and his last comment was intended as a reminder that I was only to consort with those of my own status... purebloods. I carefully let my face slacken, not allowing the surprise I felt at his words to show in my expression- did he honestly expect me to do otherwise?

A horrible idea then entered into my head. What if I started being friendly to a Muggleborn without even knowing it! Then I immediately shrugged the idea away... I would know. Muggleborns lacked all sense of refinement (a word I picked up from Mother) and therefore should not be hard to identify.

"Victor."

I was surprised at the interruption and turned to stare up at Lucius Malfoy. He was a handsome man with a face that was finely chiseled to perfection, with long white blonde hair falling past his shoulders and shorter strands into harsh grey eyes. It was not hard to see the family resemblance in his son.

Father nodded at him, blue eyes sweeping to glance towards those around us. There was now a clearing surrounding us, people not quite avoiding us, but none of them meeting our eyes and none within ten paces. Mother pursed her lips in irritation at Lucius before turning towards me with a faked honeyed smile.

"Go and board the train now, Pansy," she ordered. "Your father and I will see you at Christmas."

I nodded, turning away just as Lucius Malfoy said, "We need to talk."

"Now?" Father snapped in irritation. The rest of the conversation was quickly absorbed in the din of the crowd as I made my way towards the train.

The train was almost completely full, students filling and blocking the corridor. I sighed as I waited impatiently for the crowd to clear. Some boy had a creature in a box, which was causing a large crowd to grow in front of his compartment door. I couldn't believe that something so mundane would honestly attract that sort of attention.

"Pansy!"

I turned at my name to smile at my friend Millicent. Although I had practically been enslaved all summer with the responsibility of entertaining Draco we had kept in touch over owls. Her oval face was flushed with excitement, her newly sheared blond hair brushing the sides of her face as she wove between crowds of students towards me.

"We have a compartment in the back," she said breathlessly as she reached my side.

She also gave the crowd a derisive sneer. "Come on," she urged, leading me away from the crowd to push through the mass of people now assembling behind us.

"Hey Jordan!" a red haired boy beside me shouted, practically in my ear.

I scowled darkly at him causing him to smile before weaving between students. "What've you got now?" I heard him ask as I turned away.

Finally leaving the murmur of the crowd behind us I turned to study my friend speculatively. She had written about cutting her hair, but she hadn't mentioned how short it was. It was practically to her ear lopes! I personally thought that it made her look even more masculine than before, but one should never mention such things. Instead I waited for her to direct the conversation and I didn't have long to wait.

"Have you heard?" she asked me, brown eyes glinting.

"Heard what?" I asked absently, peering into compartments we passed.

She sighed. "Harry Potter is on the train!"

I stopped in the corridor, events clicking into place as I remembered Lucius Malfoy's serious face and Father's irritation. It would make sense...

Dark Arts was something that ran in my family, something that ran through all prestigious pureblooded families. Harry Potter had been the one that stopped the Death Eaters from conquering the wizarding world with the Dark Lord and now he was here, on this very train. For some reason it felt strange to me.

"How do you know?" I wondered out loud, continuing to move on down the aisle.

She shrugged. "Word travels fast. Someone saw him, you know, with the scar and all. Ah, here it is."

Our arrival at the compartment prevented me from questioning her further as three heads looked up at our entrance. I smiled at them, hiding my nervousness with composed skill.

"Hello," I said.

I immediately recognized the boy to my left as Dorie, as his eyes roamed over me in an intense study of my features. He was still as quiet as the last time I met him and merely nodded before returning to the magazine he was reading. The two girls on my right smiled with more warmth.

"Hi," the honey blonde on the right said, hazel eyes questioning above round freckled cheeks. "I'm Tracey Davis."

I nodded towards her. "Pansy Parkinson," I replied.

"I've heard of you," the other girl said with a frown. "Didn't you get engaged last year?"

"That was my sister Zella," I corrected her. "She's a sixth year."

She nodded, brown hair falling in a curtain around her. "My parents were there for the announcement." At my blank look she added, "Greengrass? I'm Daphne."

The name sounded familiar although I could have hardly put a face to the name. The fact that I hadn't ever met Daphne at my parents' balls was enough to say that they had rarely, if ever, attended them. Millicent placed herself next to Dorie and motioned for me to sit across from her. His eyes followed me predatorily. I felt like an insect in that emotionless gaze.

"Theodore," he finally said his voice surprisingly deep.

"I remember you," I replied, hiding my surprise at the revelation of his full name and accepting his proffered hand in greeting.

"Already flirting, Nott?" a voice drawled lazily from the door.

I looked up into the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy and actually smiled! It seemed like decades since the last time we had seen each other when in reality it had only been a few weeks. For some odd reason I even felt moderately pleased to see such a familiar face even though we had antagonized each other all summer. He looked healthy enough from our ordeal and nodded in greeting before turning back towards Theodore, leaning against the doorway. "Millicent will start to get jealous," he warned.

The blonde blushed to her apparent frustration, muttering something as Theodore grinned at her in amusement. "Not married yet, are we?" he declared, inviting them both to join in on the joke.

I wasn't aware of my jaw dropping. "You're promised?" I blurted without thinking, protocol entirely forgotten. In all our time together I had never thought to question how Millicent knew "Dorie" so well.

I instantly snapped my mouth shut as they all stared at me incredulously before laughing. Millicent merely grinned sheepishly. "Sort of," she explained. "Our families have known each other for decades. It hasn't come up yet."

I watched them quietly as a light conversation followed my stunned words. The relation between their two families and mine and Draco's was not lost on me. Glancing at my friend I found that he was already studying my pensive face. He raised a brow at my look and I merely shook my head... determined to not let my thoughts lead in that direction.

*~*

Another Parkinson, isn't it, hmm?

I barely suppressed a flinch as I heard the voice of the Sorting Hat, muttering in my ear.

Yes... yes, far different from the older sibling. Ambitious, relentless, loyal, yet manipulative... interesting. There is no doubt you will go far. I know just where I'll put you - "SLYTHERIN!"

A loud cheer erupted as I went to join the house that all the others had been sorted into, all of them waiting for my approach at the end of the table. Zella gave me a congratulatory wink as I seated myself next to Tracey at a table that generations of my family had sat at since before I was born.

I watched closely as the next student to take my place upon the stool stepped forward. There didn't look to be anyone else of much importance in the quickly thinning crowd, except for that Potter kid. I immediately didn't like him- he was rude, self centered, and far too proud of the fact that he was famous. He hadn't even shaken Draco's proffered hand of friendship. I sniffed with disdain; he certainly wouldn't make Slytherin.

The hall fell silent with anticipation when Potter moved towards the stool and allowed the large hat to sit over his eyes. It seemed to last forever until the Sorting Hat finally announced "GRYFFINDOR". The noise from that side of the hall was deafening.

Good riddance, I thought in scorn, noticing that the rest of my friends who had witnessed Draco's humiliation seemed to think the same. I noticed that Draco in particular seemed intent upon glaring at the back of that raven head, an expression of loathing apparent among his features. Once the cheers had settled we started to chat amongst ourselves, not caring who got sorted into the other houses.

"Your sister is very pretty," Tracey commented, looking down the table.

It was not the first time I had heard that. I looked down the table to see Zella laughing with her friends. Neil, as always, was a constant presence at her side. I seldom saw them without one another.

"SLYTHERIN!"

I looked up in surprise as did everyone else at the table; we had assumed that all our people were sorted. The boy that the hat revealed was no one I knew and apparently was a complete puzzle to the others.

"Who is that?" Daphne whispered as he neared our end.

"Blaise Zabini," Draco answered from beside me.

Theodore, who sat across from us, raised a brow. "You know him?"

The blonde shrugged. "Somewhat," he admitted.

As the boy neared I studied him with interest. He was a tall boy for his age with dark black skin and slanting hazel eyes that stared out of a delicately chiseled face.

"Hello," he said in greeting, attempting a smile with a flash of white teeth.

We all replied dutifully as manners dictated we must before falling in among our own conversations once more, leaving the new boy to the mercy of Theodore and Draco as they questioned him curiously. If there was one thing all of us had been taught it was that enemies could lurk even in your presence.

Unfortunate for Blaise he was unknown territory and that made him an enemy.

*~*

Hogwarts was different from how I had originally thought it would be; especially from the perspective I got as a first year Slytherin. I quickly learned that Gryffindors were the favorites not only among the professors but even with the headmaster. I was scandalized to realize that most of Hogwarts thought us rude and arrogant when it was completely the opposite way around. Most of us had tutors at least three years prior to Hogwart. Our parents were hardly going to leave us to fend for ourselves as the rest of the poor school seemed to do.

We also weren't rude to other houses without provocation. Their instant bias against us merely placed us on uneven ground that forced the members of my house to demean them publicly in order to make us equal once more. If the other houses simply had more backbone and manners I doubt many of us would have fought at all. The Ravenclaws weren't all that bad truly except that they didn't like being put to shame by us, the Slytherins who - in their opinion - should have been as stupid as the other two houses.

There was one group in particular that I noticed this in the most. We had dubbed them the "Dream Team" since they were hardly ever apart. This pathetic little group consisted of Potter, with his sidekick Weasley, and that irritating little Mudblood; Longbottom would occasionally tag along as well. I couldn't imagine why he'd want to. The others hardly noticed his presence.

I rolled my eyes as I watched Granger's hand go up in Transfiguration for the umpteenth time. As usual McGonagall called upon one of her favourite students. I scowled as she was awarded five points for answering a rather basic question on Switching Spells.

McGonagall then set us a task and frowned towards our side of the classroom as my fellow housemates and I continued our conversations from earlier. We didn't need to practice something so simple as a Switching Spell. Instead, I rather enjoyed watching Longbottom screw up his spell.

Millicent shook her head. "Pathetic," she muttered, having followed my gaze.

I spared her a grin. "Still going to Rome for Christmas?"

She nodded. "We've gone every year since my cousin's wedding five years ago. It's basically a family tradition now."

Tracey turned around from her seat in front of us. "What are you doing, Pansy?"

"Probably another ball," I replied lazily. "We have one for every other occasion... why not Christmas?"

Daphne now looked over at us in interest from her conversation with Seamus Finnigan, a Gryffindor. Unlike the rest of us Daphne went out of her way to associate herself with the other houses. She was determined to show them Slytherin was not as vile as all the rumours said. I personally thought that she was wasting her time.

"Will Neil be there?" she inquired, brown eyes widening in interest.

All of the females in Slytherin from first to seventh year had a particular interest in my soon to be brother-in-law. He was hard not to notice, not only for his breathtaking good looks, but the fact that he was a Lestrange. He was practically a Slytherin celebrity as far as everyone else was concerned.

We all knew that his second cousins Rabastan and Rodophus Lestrange, had been faithful servants of the Dark Lord and now were in Azkaban awaiting his return. Even though many of us were uncertain of our own families status in such areas Neil was still famous within our house for his family name. A name much feared. And if there was anything Slytherins loved more than wealth and respect it was to be feared.

I pursed my lips in thought. "No... I think Zella said something about him having to travel with his father for something. A business internship if I heard correct."

"Pity," Daphne sighed, since she was probably going to attend the ball with her family. A loud voice cleared from behind us and much to my irritation I jumped in surprise.

"Ladies," McGonagall's eyes pierced into each of us, "have you all accomplished a suitable Switching Spell?"

"Of course, Professor," I replied, expression obedient.

She raised a doubtful brow that made my jaw clench while the Gryffindors around us snickered.

"Then you will have no problem in showing the rest of the class," she added.

I sighed but turned towards my button and shell without further ado. "Selarum," I commanded, with a point of my wand.

The button and shell immediately changed into the image of each other; the button taking on the pearly iridescence of the shell while the shell transformed into a small black button.

McGonagall's face tightened imperceptibly as I smirked up at her.

"Five points from Slytherin for being cheeky, Miss Parkinson."

I shrugged, annoying her further as she returned to the front of the classroom to resume the lesson. I knew that we would get it back in Potions tomorrow; one of our only fair classes.

Not exactly fair, my mind reminded me.

But Snape only evened the scales somewhat between ourselves and the other houses. I already knew that the remainder of my year would be spent much in this manner, as my house combated the ridicule and rumours of the others. We couldn't help that we were different or even superior; we had been born to it. They were just jealous