Fic: Transfigure a Smile
Apr. 2nd, 2015 09:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starduchessTitle: Transfigure a Smile
Author:starduchess
Pairing: Pansy/Minerva
Rating: G
Word Count: 1165
Warning: *none*
Summary: Pansy thought of herself as special; unfortunately, her Veela inheritance makes her too special and she has a hard time dealing with life.
A/N: Thank you to isisanubis for the beta. Written for do_me_veela 2015 Valentine's Day Fest for prompt B9 by pretty_panther: Veelas lose control of their magic if they don't spend enough time each week with their bondmate, but not all Veela bonds are romantic. Sometimes the bondmates don't even like each other, but Pansy doesn't want to lose her magic and Minerva cannot watch her actions destroy a child. I deviated from the prompt a bit, so this is more a study of Pansy. This is a bit unusual in its format, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway.
I.
Pansy always saw herself as a delicate child. She knew she was different, special; she could feel it in her bones, see it in her flawless skin, and hear it sing in her magic. She walked among society and held herself up above the crowds, a princess to be admired and cherished and protected. Her parents’ pureblood ideals fit perfectly within her world view of herself. She was the best of the best and let all the others know it.
II.
When she got to Hogwarts, she grew in strength. She was the prize of Slytherin House, the future queen among them, she knew it. The more she practiced her magic, the greater her strength became. No longer was she a delicate crystal ready to break if dropped. Now she was hardened by heat and fire into a fierce diamond, cutting her enemies down with a witty edge. She excelled at Charms and Transfiguration, creating a unique mix of the two for her own uses and letting others know it.
III.
Coming into her magical majority at seventeen ripped her soul in two. Her sensitive form couldn’t handle the onslaught. Her body changed and altered as her magic rippled through her, overwhelming her senses and flaying her alive. Everything burned, and then she cracked right down the center of her back, the agony excruciating. There was blood everywhere and she couldn’t stop screaming, crying, shouting. Shattering.
IV.
She pulled what dignity she could around her, gathering the glass shards of her life back into some semblance of order, but nothing fit. Pieces of herself were gone, and she no longer knew how to respond to outside stimulus or even what to make of her own feelings. Her world view was fractured and could never be mended. Her perfect blood was tainted with creatures of old. And her body felt bruised and broken, battered before the world. She walked among her fellow students like a zombie, slow and determined just to make it through the day. The only peace came in the Transfiguration classroom, of all places.
V.
Summer was awful. Her father was too busy with the Dark Lord’s agenda, and her mother refused to speak to her. Her friends had all stopped talking to her before school had ended because of her changed status; in fact, they had all gone to talking about her, vicious whispers intended to humiliate her. The boys had continued to fawn over her, but she had no longer wanted their attention. She thought the silence at home would be a welcome change, but the silence and loneliness was oppressive. She became lethargic, and her muscles spasmed until she ached. She ate very little and slept half the time. Her magic steadily grew worse, beginning with small sparks after a couple of weeks at home and proceeding to near catastrophes -- lightning scorching the walls, bedding catching on fire, winds blowing books and trinkets around, statues melting. Her father demanded answers; her mother only smiled secretively.
VI.
She could feel her energy return as she walked through the doors of Hogwarts for her final year. She couldn’t explain it, but the castle now felt more like home than her parent’s manor. As she walked into the Great Hall, she could feel her magic settle down as it hadn’t done all summer. Her fellow Slytherins were smug and excited, as their former Head of House strode through the hall to take his rightful place as the new Headmaster. She glanced around at the other tables, delighting in the tension she saw there, as well as the reduction in numbers. She took note of the grim look on Professor McGonagall’s face as she led the first years in and smirked. Perhaps things were looking up.
VII.
She had to amend her thoughts shortly after classes started. Her fellow students still shunned her, but with much less intensity than they had before. The halls became battlegrounds between the Slytherins and the Uprisers as she dubbed them in her head, and the classrooms sizzled with repressed fury on both sides. She would have gladly fought for her place at the top of the food chain, if there had been a place awaiting her, but there wasn’t. She felt lost and drowned. The only place she felt content was in the Transfiguration classroom, and although she hated that old cat McGonagall, she looked for more assignments from her, asked for extra tutoring, deliberately worked herself into detentions. Her inner voice called her mental; she no longer cared.
VIII.
Skirmishes continued to escalate all over Hogwarts. She contributed when she could, but more often than not she ended up hit in the crossfire. No one helped her and the girls treated her like a pariah. She was done. Her life was a misery and she hated it, and she wanted it all to be over. So when they were all called into the Great Hall one evening and the Dark Lord’s voice rang out asking for Harry Potter to be handed over to him, of course she raised her voice and pointed him out. Maybe in giving him up, she could regain her reputation in Slytherin House and end the war favorably for them. But that was not to be, as all the other Houses came to Potter’s defence. Then Professor McGonagall ordered them all out of the castle, beginning with her, and she felt sick. She led the way out but hovered in a corner of the Hog’s Head, shaking, uncertain, alone.
IX.
Rubble was strewn all over Hogwarts grounds, walls blasted away or crumbled under the onslaught of spells and monsters, smoke still tasted acrid around the burned areas. She hadn’t participated in the final battle, but she could still sense the light and dark magics hovering in the air. Death and destruction confronted her at every turn, her home violated -- it made her feel so sick. Potter had won at great cost to both sides, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. Her perfect world had vanished ages ago, and she had only been grasping at straws all this year. Perhaps it was time to leave. She was startled by a touch on her shoulder. She looked up into the stern, but not unkind, eyes of McGonagall. The woman didn’t say anything but offered her comfort in a gentle pat and a short smile. In calm silence, they began mending the castle.
X.
Pansy was glad to help with the reconstruction. With each stone replaced, it felt like her own soul was mending. With each room fixed, she felt herself become whole. She gained friends and respect among those she’d never really known before, and she found peace around the new Headmistress. McGonagall asked her to stay on as Transfiguration professor, and without hesitation she agreed. That earned her a genuine McGonagall smile, which in turn freed her own smile, and her spirit had never felt lighter.
--
Author:
starduchessPairing: Pansy/Minerva
Rating: G
Word Count: 1165
Warning: *none*
Summary: Pansy thought of herself as special; unfortunately, her Veela inheritance makes her too special and she has a hard time dealing with life.
A/N: Thank you to isisanubis for the beta. Written for do_me_veela 2015 Valentine's Day Fest for prompt B9 by pretty_panther: Veelas lose control of their magic if they don't spend enough time each week with their bondmate, but not all Veela bonds are romantic. Sometimes the bondmates don't even like each other, but Pansy doesn't want to lose her magic and Minerva cannot watch her actions destroy a child. I deviated from the prompt a bit, so this is more a study of Pansy. This is a bit unusual in its format, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway.
I.
Pansy always saw herself as a delicate child. She knew she was different, special; she could feel it in her bones, see it in her flawless skin, and hear it sing in her magic. She walked among society and held herself up above the crowds, a princess to be admired and cherished and protected. Her parents’ pureblood ideals fit perfectly within her world view of herself. She was the best of the best and let all the others know it.
II.
When she got to Hogwarts, she grew in strength. She was the prize of Slytherin House, the future queen among them, she knew it. The more she practiced her magic, the greater her strength became. No longer was she a delicate crystal ready to break if dropped. Now she was hardened by heat and fire into a fierce diamond, cutting her enemies down with a witty edge. She excelled at Charms and Transfiguration, creating a unique mix of the two for her own uses and letting others know it.
III.
Coming into her magical majority at seventeen ripped her soul in two. Her sensitive form couldn’t handle the onslaught. Her body changed and altered as her magic rippled through her, overwhelming her senses and flaying her alive. Everything burned, and then she cracked right down the center of her back, the agony excruciating. There was blood everywhere and she couldn’t stop screaming, crying, shouting. Shattering.
IV.
She pulled what dignity she could around her, gathering the glass shards of her life back into some semblance of order, but nothing fit. Pieces of herself were gone, and she no longer knew how to respond to outside stimulus or even what to make of her own feelings. Her world view was fractured and could never be mended. Her perfect blood was tainted with creatures of old. And her body felt bruised and broken, battered before the world. She walked among her fellow students like a zombie, slow and determined just to make it through the day. The only peace came in the Transfiguration classroom, of all places.
V.
Summer was awful. Her father was too busy with the Dark Lord’s agenda, and her mother refused to speak to her. Her friends had all stopped talking to her before school had ended because of her changed status; in fact, they had all gone to talking about her, vicious whispers intended to humiliate her. The boys had continued to fawn over her, but she had no longer wanted their attention. She thought the silence at home would be a welcome change, but the silence and loneliness was oppressive. She became lethargic, and her muscles spasmed until she ached. She ate very little and slept half the time. Her magic steadily grew worse, beginning with small sparks after a couple of weeks at home and proceeding to near catastrophes -- lightning scorching the walls, bedding catching on fire, winds blowing books and trinkets around, statues melting. Her father demanded answers; her mother only smiled secretively.
VI.
She could feel her energy return as she walked through the doors of Hogwarts for her final year. She couldn’t explain it, but the castle now felt more like home than her parent’s manor. As she walked into the Great Hall, she could feel her magic settle down as it hadn’t done all summer. Her fellow Slytherins were smug and excited, as their former Head of House strode through the hall to take his rightful place as the new Headmaster. She glanced around at the other tables, delighting in the tension she saw there, as well as the reduction in numbers. She took note of the grim look on Professor McGonagall’s face as she led the first years in and smirked. Perhaps things were looking up.
VII.
She had to amend her thoughts shortly after classes started. Her fellow students still shunned her, but with much less intensity than they had before. The halls became battlegrounds between the Slytherins and the Uprisers as she dubbed them in her head, and the classrooms sizzled with repressed fury on both sides. She would have gladly fought for her place at the top of the food chain, if there had been a place awaiting her, but there wasn’t. She felt lost and drowned. The only place she felt content was in the Transfiguration classroom, and although she hated that old cat McGonagall, she looked for more assignments from her, asked for extra tutoring, deliberately worked herself into detentions. Her inner voice called her mental; she no longer cared.
VIII.
Skirmishes continued to escalate all over Hogwarts. She contributed when she could, but more often than not she ended up hit in the crossfire. No one helped her and the girls treated her like a pariah. She was done. Her life was a misery and she hated it, and she wanted it all to be over. So when they were all called into the Great Hall one evening and the Dark Lord’s voice rang out asking for Harry Potter to be handed over to him, of course she raised her voice and pointed him out. Maybe in giving him up, she could regain her reputation in Slytherin House and end the war favorably for them. But that was not to be, as all the other Houses came to Potter’s defence. Then Professor McGonagall ordered them all out of the castle, beginning with her, and she felt sick. She led the way out but hovered in a corner of the Hog’s Head, shaking, uncertain, alone.
IX.
Rubble was strewn all over Hogwarts grounds, walls blasted away or crumbled under the onslaught of spells and monsters, smoke still tasted acrid around the burned areas. She hadn’t participated in the final battle, but she could still sense the light and dark magics hovering in the air. Death and destruction confronted her at every turn, her home violated -- it made her feel so sick. Potter had won at great cost to both sides, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. Her perfect world had vanished ages ago, and she had only been grasping at straws all this year. Perhaps it was time to leave. She was startled by a touch on her shoulder. She looked up into the stern, but not unkind, eyes of McGonagall. The woman didn’t say anything but offered her comfort in a gentle pat and a short smile. In calm silence, they began mending the castle.
X.
Pansy was glad to help with the reconstruction. With each stone replaced, it felt like her own soul was mending. With each room fixed, she felt herself become whole. She gained friends and respect among those she’d never really known before, and she found peace around the new Headmistress. McGonagall asked her to stay on as Transfiguration professor, and without hesitation she agreed. That earned her a genuine McGonagall smile, which in turn freed her own smile, and her spirit had never felt lighter.
--