The Most Impossible Soulbond

Deal With It

Neither Pansy nor her parents spoke a word as they walked side by side throughout the castle. What else was there to say? She felt completely numb, wasn't even sure where they were heading until they reached the gates and left for the grounds.

Her mother rested a comforting hand on her shoulder while Pansy leaned into her side. She was still trying to comprehend what she had just been told. Was it even comprehensible? She, Pansy Parkinson, heiress of the Parkinson family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, thirteen years old, was...

She couldn't even say it. Just the thought alone made her want to throw up.

Her father suddenly sat down on the grass, a bit away from the castle and the lake, somewhere halfway between the dimwitted Care teacher's shack and the castle.

Pansy settled down next to him, followed by her mother, who took her hand in hers and gripped it tightly while worrying her lips between her teeth.

Her mother then looked at her father. "What are we going to do, Penrose? Our baby – goodness, she is only thirteen!" She sounded as desperate as Pansy felt. "And the Sacred Twenty-Eight and – and not to mention the scandal when this will get out!"

Pansy felt like crying. "I am so sorry," she sobbed, sniffling delicately through stray tears running down her cheeks.

For generations, her family had successfully remained pureblooded with only minimal inbreeding through rare marriages between first and second cousins, but she would be the one to break this proud tradition. She felt incredibly guilty.

"Oh, my sweetness, no." Her mother smiled gently at her and cradled her head into her chest, stroking her hair. "I have to worry, as does your father because it will be difficult and trying for us and our family. However, never think that there is anything in this world we value more than you and your safety."

"Your mother is right," her father added. "While I would have wished to find you an honourable, pureblooded husband – and much later than this as well – it is what it is and we have to make the best of this rather distasteful situation."

"I don't want this!" Pansy whispered harshly. "I don't want – I don't – with Potter!"

"And we do not wish for a half-blood in our family either, Pansy, but the situation is what it is," her father said, his voice hardening. "The Potter name still holds weight and, with a bit of work, can be reputable once more. The damage done because of James and his marriage with that muggle-born is not entirely unsalvageable. We can work with this."

Pansy half sobbed and shook her head, deflating in her mother's embrace. "I don't want to," she whispered again.

The thought alone was so queer and alien, it was impossible to wrap her head around it. She and Potter – Potter and she – a shudder went through her body and bile was rising in her throat.

"Neither of us has a choice in that matter, my sweetness," her mother said softly, continuing to gently comb her fingers through her hair. "I would have wished for you and Draco to maybe fall in love –"

"He left me to die!" Pansy snarled, anger briefly overcoming her despair. "He will have to grovel a lot more before I will even think of forgiving him."

Nodding stiffly, a dark, fleeting look passing over her face, her mother continued. "Be that as it may, I would have liked for you two to maybe marry one day. Alas..." She sighed.

"Is there really nothing we can do, father?" Pansy pleaded, retracting herself from her mother to fully face her father. "There has – there has to be something!"