Chapter Text
“This is not a democracy nor a negotiation. You will comply, there is no other option.” My father’s tone was in contrast with his glazed expression. He looked cool and distanced as always, as he tossed the parchment of yet another lucrative contract on his desk as though it was the morning post. But his words, his set determination spoke to the fact that this would not be a conversation I would win.
“But Daddy, see reason. It is simply not done, not heard of! Surely the ministry has better things to do than to play guard dog.” I know when I have lost, but I’ve never known when to back down. The office is one I’ve never enjoyed being in. The dark, polished wood, expensive and unrelenting. The oversized desk was built to empower my father to rule over any visitor as a superior. I stand there, trying to maintain control by digging my nails into my palms, ruining my manicure no doubt. My robes are designer, suffocating me. I feel sweat beading in my hairline as I bite the inside of my cheek to refrain from whinging like a toddler. Slow deep breaths, I remind myself.
“Pansy, the matter has been settled. As much as I donate to the ministry they damn well will provide the top protection to my daughter when threats are on the horizon. The war cost us so many purebloods from the Sacred 28. We are close to extinction! And as liberal as they want to seem now, bowing to the modern ideals of that Potter and his bunch, the old hats at the ministry will always favor the true magic that runs in our veins. The Wigzengamot is meeting daily to discuss the threats launched at you girls, but who is to say you are safe? I will not risk it! Not my legacy. Damn sure not my daughter! I will not be perceived as weak. You will accept the protection detail starting tomorrow as scheduled and that is final.”
The dismissal is sharp on his tongue and I see now that this plan is not about me. Of course my father, the largest distributor of potions in Europe, is more worried about his reputation, his legacy. I nod and leave his office without another word. This is utter dragon dung. I am a grown woman, more than capable of protecting myself. Though I am not as unaffected as I pretend to be. The deaths of Tracey Davis and dear Millie Bulstrode struck me to my core. Their murders months apart were marked by cruel messages sent to the Prophet about taking out the “Sacred Girls” to rid the world of what exactly? My bet is on some deranged nutter who got rejected and now harbors a vendetta for all women but is trying to justify some ridiculous revenge genocide. The mere notion of some filthy, sweat covered manifesto lamenting on about pureblood women everywhere who are somehow responsible for his pain makes my lips curl into a sneer. My heels are sharp and strike across the foyer into the floo. “Greengrass Terrarium” I snap and the emerald flames take me away from the cold walls of home. I need a drink.
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“Blimey, you’d think years later people would drop that whole “my stars, you’re Harry Potter” bit. Why did we pick this pub again? I thought we agreed on low key from now on, yeah?” Harry Potter, boy wonder, savior of the wizarding world, best mate, and a right pain in my ass complained again at the size of the crowd. I guess the hero worship would be too much for most people, but hey, at least we got a free drink out of it every now and then. I just laugh and shake my head. Moving through this crowd is giving me enough to focus on. Auror training has us both in a chokehold teaching the mantra of old Mad Eye, “constant vigilance!” I can still hear his raspy roar in my dreams. Finally a break in the crowd leads us to a high top table.
“There, it’s not so bad now. Gotta take in our last night as free men, don’t we? Let’s get some pints and remember come tomorrow we’re someone’s bitch. Enjoy this while you can mate.” I chug my drink and take another look around. The crowd is mostly men who, like us, are off work and trying to unwind. Unlike us, there are a few that seem to be more rowdy than normal. As a child of Molly Weasley I know better than to exceed my limit in public. I see a group not far from us making lewd gestures of humping the air and talking loudly how they “only need a bird for her mouth and not to talk with.” Harry sees them too, his jaw tics and I know our respite window is dwindling. If there is one thing my best friend has, it’s a savior complex. I’m not saying I don't stand with him every single time but there is something to be said for picking battles.
“I know you’ve clocked it mate. Let’s see how it plays out.” He watches them, his green eyes flashing as the group moves closer to a pair of women dressed to kill. The blonde in a low cut shirt seems familiar but I can’t quite place her. Her friend has her back to me, but I see black hair cut sharp and precise to swing just above her shoulders. The skirt she’s wearing is tight and sporting a slit up the back. Her heels are tall and lethal. I know that body. A type of recognition that only comes from sitting behind someone for years in school. Knowing the facial expression that will take over if she sees me, I can practically hear her sneering my name already. Bloody hell.
“Ron.” The low timber of Harry’s voice pulls from the target lock I have on Parkinson and I see the man from earlier stop at their table and start speaking to them. I can’t make out what he’s saying but the leering in his mouth and the full body scan he just performed lets me know it's not exactly respectful. His group has the girls surrounded in no time and just as I start to weigh my options he lowers his hand to Parkinson’s hip, tugging her to him despite her efforts to pull away.
I’ve played quidditch with Harry for years, went on every side quest together, slept in the same dorm, trained with him at my side for too many hours to count. We don’t speak, we don’t even need eye contact. We’re moving as one before the thought even fully forms. Harry takes the ones on the opposite side, putting himself between the blonde and two drunk assholes with a speed and agility only a seeker could activate. Me, I prefer a more up front physical approach, a true keeper.
“Baby why don't you come home with me and we’ll work that attitude out together. You’ll learn to like me, I swear.” The wanker says, words slurring.
“Ugh get your drunk disgusting hands off me this instant or I’ll hex them off and feed them to an acromantula!”
“I’d listen to her. She’s got a slicing hex that’s brutal. Not that she’ll need it tonight, right?” I say as I grab the hand from her waist and twist, my other arm forcing him forward at the shoulder and pinning him to the table.
“Hey what the fuck man?! Let me go! I didn't know she had a boyfriend! Was just trying for a bit of fun!” He squirms but I don’t relent. I’m stronger and we both know it. I lean down and put my face near his growling, “It didn’t seem like fun to me. But I’ve never found touching women without their consent very jovial. Is that something you do often?”
“Look at that skirt man, she was practically begging for attention! And her friend there? Got her tits all out, it’s not our fault if we’re giving them what they want!”
I look up to see Harry squaring off with the other two, his wand drawn and face challenging.
“What’s wrong? Don’t like someone paying you attention?” He says to the one closest to him. The poor chap looks ready to piss himself. “S-s-sorry Mr Potter, sir. We didn't know they were your women.”
“Excuse me, we belong to ourselves thank you! Could you all kindly take this display of savagery elsewhere? We’re trying to exist without the stench of testosterone.” Parkinson snarls at us. Seriously? I knew this would happen, even when you try to help snakes you still get bit.
I release the arsehole from the table and he jumps up, his eyes flaring wide as he stutters my name and apologizes.
“Don’t apologize to us, you fucking wankers. Apologize to them and then never speak to them again.” My order is sharp and clear and the men take their leave stumbling backwards with pathetic mumblings.
The blonde speaks first, bright blue eyes glancing my way then landing on Harry, smiling wide, “Thank you for that, is what my dear friend meant. We appreciate the chivalry.”
“No, I did not mean that at all. I had it under control, Daphne! Before this one took over like a hippogriff in a tea shop.” Parkinson rolls her eyes at me, sucking her teeth.
Daphne, yes I remember now. Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson. Two complete opposites yet best friends. Daphne, very sunshine and rainbows in pastel colors. Sweet and soft. Playful. Pansy Parkinson has never been described as such in her life. She is vicious and cruel. Ready to strike at any given moment, and each blow deadlier than the last. She glares at me, not an ounce of thanks in those eyes. Not that I need thanks, but still. One would think she’d be nicer after just being stood up for. But then again, I don’t think Ginny or Hermione would have wanted a man to intervene either. Either way, something about her just irritates me, so instead of letting it go I respond with as much sarcasm as possible, “Yeah, sure it looked like you had it. Pressed up against him against your will and everything. Don’t worry, I’m sure he was shaking in his boots.”
“Oh fuck you, you neandrathal creatin! I would have blasted him right out of those boots had you not intervened. Unlike your precious girlfriend Granger I have never needed a man to step in.” She stabs one fire red nail into my chest and steps into my space, holding fierce eye contact.
My temper flares and I know between that and the alcohol my ears are turning red. “Shows how much you know about Hermione. She has never been my girlfriend nor some damsel in distress. She holds her own and doesn’t need to be waited on like daddy’s little princess here.” Harry inhales sharply and admonishes me with a shake of his head. I’m tip toeing the line here and we both know it.
“Well this has been fun, sorry you ladies got accosted! We hope you have a great night and if you need an escort, we’ll be just over there!” Harry gestures to the table we abandoned and drags me away before I say anything else.
“What the fuck was that? Are you trying to get fired before we start?” He looks exasperated, I can tell when he starts running his hand through his hair, he’s halfway to losing it.
I let out a deep sigh. “I know, I'm sorry. That was out of order. She just pisses me off! And the stupid assignment is going to suck tomorrow. I want to fight crime Harry, take on dark wizards! Not play babysitter to some spoiled ass rich girls that can't even say thank you without biting my head off.”
“Hey! Daphne said thank you. Maybe you’ll get her tomorrow. Either way, this ‘babysitting’ will be our way to prove ourselves. You heard Kingsley, we have to learn the political game just as much as the battle side of being with the ministry. We can do this, but we have to play it smart. Otherwise we’ll always be questioned and never fully accepted.”
He’s right. After the war we went straight into the ministry bootcamp for aurors. That has been a point of contention for some, that we got to bypass the NEWTS and try outs. Nevermind that the ministry was severely understaffed and we had literally been fighting the darkest wizards daily. It’s always bothered Harry to have people believe he didn’t earn his way. I know we did, blood sweat and tears. And I could give two fucks what someone else thinks about my resume. But the whole point of us climbing through the ranks is to prove we belong. And this will help prove that, no matter how annoying I find it.
That night as I go to bed I pray to Merlin to get assigned someone like Daphne. I know the threats the Sacred 28 families are receiving and while I’m ready for whatever comes, I hope it will at least be tolerable in the form of professionalism. Not stabby manicures, flashing dark blue eyes, and snarky words. Whoever gets assigned to guard Pansy Parkinson is in for a rude awakening.