In the Light of Things

Darling, Please

It wasn't very uncommon for Pansy Parkinson to make her way through the Ministry. Nor was it uncommon for her to beeline directly to the recently preceded Madame Minister's office on the third underground level--which she preferred to be on due to the DMLE being the next floor down, where her best friends took current occupancy. What was uncommon was for Pansy to be taking the brisk pace she currently took, as it had been almost an entire week without seeing the dear Madame Minister, and Pansy was desperate for the reunion. Hermione Granger had, after all, been a Pardoner during the Parkinson Trials, and Pansy had reconciled with the bright witch and had figured--surprise, surprise--that they actually had much in common.

Way too much.

They were both girls. Girls that understood things a little differently and a little too much, that the way the world worked wasn't always going to be the standard notion that everyone seemed accustomed to.

Times change. People change. And that is okay.

And in that, they found each other in a new light. The duration of the Parkinson Trials had lasted for a whooping seven months of back and forth of accusations, new evidence and witnesses. Hermione Granger, after the initial Pardoning, had stood by their side as their personal advisor, as the Parkinsons had not involved themselves in much of law and had little knowledge.

Hermione had been a star. Buried in books deep within the catacombs of Withermore House, she studied the findings of Chester Will Attams, a close friend of Geronimo Parkinson--Pansy's great-great-great grandfather--and a studied law wizard.

It had been too easy. So easy, in fact, that Pansy thought it was all a joke.

Thirteen-hundred hours of community service and another twenty-one hundred of house arrest. The Malfoy family really did get the worst of it, if it could even be called that. Narcissa Malfoy had worked vehemently to put the Malfoy name back into society come the year of the closing of her banishment--the right way this time--unlike how her late husband had tried to erroneously implement their blood status to climb through the political ladder with fear and authority.

Pansy's family had had nothing to do besides restore the estate, which is exactly what they set to do as soon as the trails were through. By hand, no less. The immense amount of Restrictions on their wands was more than enough to discourage even a single glance at them.

It seemed as if all they needed was to get lawfully reprimanded for being inactive during the War. Rose Parkinson wore brighter colored gowns, jewel-toned hues like emerald and ruby, amethyst and onyx, aquamarine, citrine, sapphire. Pansy was reminded once more why she adored to dress up and pamper herself. Cassius Parkinson became more involved into family affairs--what was once club night turned to Family Night, where they'd pick a room and sit on the floor to eat their current dinner, pureblood decorum be damned.

Recently, her mother had begun inviting the house-elves, much to her chagrin, and amusedly watched them try to imitate her table mannerisms so as to not be banished from the estate. It was quite amusing.

"Miss Parkinson?"

Pansy stopped short in front of Velma Skeeter's desk, coincidentally Hermione's PA and delightfully, three years younger. Pansy only met Rita once, but oh, the dangers she'd put that woman in if she got the chance.

Velma was a sweetheart, with her kinky brown curls and blue, blue eyes. She stood at the same height as her putrid cousin did, at only eighteen years old, valued the same rights for misunderstood creatures that Hermione did, and had graduated well before she was supposed to.

"Miss Parkinson?"

"Yes," Pansy clears her throat, readjusting the sunglasses perched on the tip of her nose. "Pardon me, my thoughts have been wayward lately."