Hey guys-

Quick filler. Hope you enjoy it.

Without further adieu, I present to you...

P A N S Y 

*TRIGGER WARNING \\ MENTIONS OF GROOMING*

Narrator's POV

September 25th, 2002

"How was the plane ride?" the brown-eyed woman spoke. "Hope it wasn't too long."

"It was fine," replied Pansy. She set down her luggage and took a deep breath. She looked around the comfortable home and peeped out the window from a distance. Pansy took notice of the little blonde boy who was pushing his little sister on the swing. "5 years passed by, hasn't it?"

The woman nodded. She was prepping for tonight's dinner. "He's 5 tomorrow."

Pansy smiled. "Is red hair a recessive trait in your family?"

"I guess so," the woman giggled. "Charlotte must've got it from her father. You're implying the girl that Jack's pushing, right?"

"Yes," Pansy said. She took a seat on the kitchen chair and picked up her luggage from the ground. She set the luggage right in front of her and unlatched the latches. "Jack. That's a beautiful name, Mary."

"I named him after my father," Mary commented. "He's a ball full of energy, Jack. Mean attitude, too."

Pansy chuckled. "It was expected. Short-tempered, I assume?"

"Don't even get me started, Pans," Mary groaned while dicing the potatoes. "He's very overprotective of Charlotte. His sister."

"Does he know he's...?"

"I've tried to explain it to him, but I don't think he's fully aware by what I mean when I say that he's adopted."

Pansy nodded. She opened her luggage, which revealed leather-covered tomes. "Does he know how to read yet?"

"He's learning," Mary responded. "But he's not really into it as much as my daughter is."

"I brought these books for him. I had to sneak into the Manor. It wasn't that difficult. No one lives there anymore anyways."

Mary finished the dicing of her potatoes. She quickly rinsed her hands and grabbed a towel. Then, she stepped towards Pansy and hovered over the table. Her eyes gazed over the tomes. Mary lifted her hand and brushed her fingers over the aged leather.

"These are expensive," Mary preened. "You sure you want to give these to him?"

"It's his birthright. Why wouldn't I?"

Mary picked up a tome and skimmed through the pages. "Black bloodlines. Blood magic stuff? Apparently, the Black bloodline is well known for blood magic. Excelled in it, even."

"Yeah, well that's why I brought it here," Pansy laughed. 

The backdoor busted open as two muddy children came running in. Their shoes left mud prints all around the kitchen floor. Mary groaned as Pansy giggled. 

"What did I say about running in the home with your shoes on!" Mary shouted. She chased the red-haired girl around the kitchen while Jack effortlessly slipped his shoes off. Jack put his boots by the door and flattened out his cardigan. He approached Pansy with lit eyes.

"How come I never get to know your name, Miss?" Jack said coolly. Pansy looked into his eyes and saw the familiarity.

"You're too young to understand, Jack," Pansy replied. "But you will one day."

"Could I get your name? I know you come and visit every year. And you bring me something all the time. But I never get to say thank you."

"You can say thank you now, Jack."

"Thank you, mystery woman! For the gifts that you bear."

Pansy smiled. She cupped his cheek and admired his sharp blue eyes. A wave of guilt overcomes her body. Her lips form flat and her throat tightens. Pansy owes her whole life to the boy in front of her. "It's the least I could do, Jack."

Mary cleaned Charlotte up and set her at the table next to Jack. Jack was already gazing his eyes over the tomes in Pansy's luggage. Pansy took notice. 

"Are those tomes for me?"  Jack queried. He scooted his chair closer to the table and placed his hand over the leather book. 

"I brought them for you, yes," replied Pansy, "Just a few books for you to read when you're older."

"Can I not read them now?"

"Can you even read, Jack-love?" Mary giggled. "I'm not sure you can read that type of book yet. Not right now, at least."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm turning 5 tomorrow, mum. You know that." He turned his head back to Pansy, "Did you know that I'm turning 5, mystery woman?"

"Yes, I do know that you're turning 5," Pansy smiled. "I brought these tomes for your birthday."

"Will you be here next year? When I turn 6? How about 7? 8? Will you be here when I'm 9?"

"Now, Jack. You should be lucky she even comes and brings you things," Mary retorted—in a motherly fashion, to say the least.

"I know, I know! And I'm very thankful, trust me! I just—I wish I knew your name."

Pansy gave him an indecisive stare. "One day I'll be able to tell you. Right now isn't the time. Are you willing to wait for that time, Jack? Can you do that for me?"

Jack nodded instantly. "I can wait! I most definitely can!"

Pansy couldn't help but smile once more. Out of all the darkness in the world, and the situations she's been put in, the only light that she managed to see was off Jack's aura—like Luna Lovegood, she had that specialty, too.

But House of Slytherin refused to expand on those who had such abilities. Sometimes she wished she wasn't in Slytherin. Sometimes she wished for a lot of things. 

"Why don't you two go on upstairs? Dinner won't be ready until later," Mary suggested to the two bright children.

"But will the mystery woman still be here when we come back?" Jack awed. Mary giggled. 

"Yes, she'll still be here Jack. She won't be leaving until the day after your birthday."

With that being said, Jack grinned and hopped off of his chair. Charlotte followed as they ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Straight into their own bedrooms where they played to kill time.

"Pansy," Mary murmured, "You know I'm all ears, right?"

Pansy pulled out a carton of cigarettes. She took one cigarette and placed it between her lips. She pulled a lighter out of her other pocket and flicked the lighter. Pansy held the lighter up to the cigarette and lit it. She took a drag before flicking the ashes into the ashtray that was positioned in the middle of the table.

"I know you are, Mary," Pansy replied, "But you're just a Healer. I need a therapist."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Pansy, you can talk to me. As a friend. Not a Healer."

"Now, you know I don't deserve friends," Pansy took another drag. She inhaled deeply and spoke all while doing such, "I'm the last person on earth—" Pansy exhaled, "—to have friends. You of all people should know that."

Mary halted on her creation of beef stew and turned around to face her. "Stop talking like that."

"It's true, Mary."

"You saved a life."

"I'm a nuisance."

"You were groomed, Pansy!"

"But was I really?"

Mary slammed her pot on the stove. Pansy took another drag. 

"We've discussed this already, Pansy Parkinson."

"Yeah, well I still can't wrap my bloody head around it."

"Tell me what happened. Give yourself a reminder."

"Why in bloody hell would I want to remind myself of my past? Are you mad?"

"Pansy, acknowledging what happened to you helps you learn to cope. You get worse every year. You've got bags under your eyes."

"Who doesn't have bags under their eyes, Mary." Pansy took another drag. She rid the ashes in the ashtray. "We're not reciting my past. I just want to forget."

"You can't forget. You were in prison for a year. How could you forget something like that?"

"I can't forget, Mary! That's the fucking problem! The problem is I can't forget."

"Then how are you going to learn how to cope with what happened in your life if you choose to just shove it all in a jar?"

Pansy took a big drag before pressing her hand against her forehead. Bickering with Mary for Pansy's bettering wasn't new to her. Mary cared a lot about Pansy. Who else would?

Pansy thought to herself. Mary was right. Pansy hated it. Pansy had to recite her past to cope. Pansy hated talking about her vulnerability. Her naïvety. But she knew she had to bring it in the limelight in order for her to cope.

"I was groomed by my friend's father," Pansy shuddered. "I was sworn to secrecy that I dared not to tell anyone about the both of us. He was older. He was aware of his doings. I wasn't."

Mary gripped onto her kitchen towel as she listened to Pansy's story all over again. Mary wanted Pansy to express how she feels instead of bottling it all up. Mary knows the whole story. She's heard it a million times before. But she didn't care if she listened to it for another million times. If it was helping Pansy, then that's all that matters. So she waited for her to continue. 

"The first time was when I was 16. We officially met at a Quidditch match. He told me I was beautiful. Said that I was capable of many things. It started off as gift-giving. He'd gift me a new Nimbus. He'd buy me clothes. Took me to expensive restaurants during the holidays. The first time we ever—" Pansy's throat tightened. She took a drag up until she reached the filter. Exhaling, she grabbed another cigarette and lit it. "—did it was in my winter home in Russia. Mary, it was I who took us there. I was aware. I'm the fucking bad person. It's me—"

"You were 16 years old, Pansy. He was 52. Tell yourself that," Mary sternly stated. In truth, Mary was worried for Pansy. In fact, she felt for her in many ways. 

"I was 16," she whispered to herself, "It wasn't my fault."

Silence lingered in the kitchen.

"I'm the victim," Pansy spoke. "I am the victim."

"You are the victim. You are not the bad person."

"Mary, I'm still a bad person."

Mary sighed. "You're not a bad person, Pansy. You compensated. You compensated for your wrongdoings. It's time to stop beating yourself up for it, Pans. You were a victim. You were groomed."

Pansy's eyes started to water, but she quickly took a drag from her new cigarette. "I don't want to be a goddamn victim," she gritted her teeth.

"The man's in jail for life. You don't have to worry about seeing him again."

"I don't want to be a fucking victim, Mary," Pansy repeated herself. This time, it was harsh. 

"You're a survivor, then. You survived through it. That makes you a survivor."

Pansy exhaled. She was a survivor. She survived through it. That made her a survivor. 

"I'm a...survivor," Pansy whispered to herself. "I'm a survivor. That's what I am."

"And not only are you a survivor, but you're a life-saver, too."

"I owed it to him, Mary."

Mary continued making her beef stew. Pansy finished up her cigarette and leaned back onto the kitchen chair. 

"If anything, it's Jack who saved mine."

"I'm sure he's very welcome, Pansy."

She crossed her arms over her chest and reflected. "He looks like his father, that's for sure."

Mary grinned. "I bet he does."

"His mum's nose, though."

Pansy leaned on the table with her hand and elbow. She looked outside the window and took notice of the swing swinging from the wind. 

"You think I'm able to start a family of my own?"  Pansy questioned.

"You're young, I'm sure you have enough time to do so."

"I never had the opportunity to hold a baby before. Not Jack, at least."

"Well, you've got time ahead of you."

She sighed. "I'm going to start a new life in Australia. I can't go back to the United Kingdom. Not after what I did."

"If that's what makes you happy, then go on and do so," Mary stirred her broth until it thickened. "You know you're more than welcome to stay here. You can help raise Jack and Charlotte. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"It sure does sounds nice. But my fate isn't raising Jack. His fate is him finding home. If I were to raise him, I wouldn't want to return him back to where he belongs."

"How can you be so sure that he'll find his way back? Across the world? Sounds impossible."

Pansy scoffed. "Fate will bring him. Everything happens for a reason, Mary. It'll all fall into place."

"You should start telling yourself that, too, Pansy. Start thinking optimal for yourself as well."

"Maybe you're right, Mary-Anne." Pansy sat up straight and reached for another cigarette. "But right now, I just want to take a breath. Life has been moving too fast. I just want to take a moment and catch up."

"The clock never stops ticking, Pans."

"Trust me. I know."

Pansy looked at the landline that was on the wall. She got up from the chair and made her way towards the phone. "Mind if I make a call?"

"Go ahead."

Pansy picked up the phone and held it to her ear. Her fingers hovered over the dials. Hesitantly, she dialed out the number that was burnt in her head.

It was ringing. 

Ringing.

Ringing.

"Hello?" a familiar voice spoke.

"He turns 5 tomorrow."

Silence emitted the landline.

"You're not going to tell me his name? Where he is? Nothing again?"

"I've told you enough. You're lucky I'm even keeping you updated."

A sigh came from the other line. "Pansy, this is wrong. I don't know how long I can keep up with this crap."

"He'll find his way home eventually, Lorenzo. By then, you'll already have known."

"Is that all you called for?"

"Yes."

Silence emitted once more.

"Thank you. For—for updating me."

"It's the least I could do." Pansy bit her lip. "Please remember to—"

"Yes, I know. I know, Pansy."

"All right. Thank you."

Pansy hung up. She pressed her back against the wall by the phone and sighed. "I don't know how long Lorenzo can keep a secret."

"That was your first mistake," Mary replied. "Telling Lorenzo about Jack was your first mistake."

"I've made worse mistakes back then. This one isn't so bad. I can trust Lorenzo. With my life, even."

"And why's that?"

Pansy chuckled. "In our fifth year, he swore to protect me. Silly stuff. We were snooping around for a couple of months. It was nothing serious. I just know I can trust him."

"Even after everything with Draco?"

"I'm pretty sure."

Mary giggled. "You're full of surprises, Pansy Parkinson."

"I'm full of secrets, too."

*** 

D I S C U S S I O N 

Spicy scenes are coming VERY SOON. LOL. ANyways, here's a filler. I hope you guys like it.