Lansy One Shots

How Pansy Parkinson Fell In Love (In Six Easy Steps)

Summary: Pansy doesn't believe in love because love is for idiots.

Ship: LunaLovegood/PansyParkinson & HarryPotter/DracoMalfoy

All credit goes to Kbrick on Ao3

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1.

When Pansy was ten years old, her mother sat her down in the parlor that was attached to her bedchamber. Pansy's parents slept in separate suites, and Pansy preferred her mother's, which was decorated in soft pastels (mostly pink) and contained all the secret things that came with being a woman. Things like red lipstick and heady perfume, potions to keep you from looking old or whiten your teeth, and oodles of sparkling bracelets and necklaces and earrings.

Pansy's mother was sitting at her lighted vanity and Pansy was sitting on a white leather ottoman beside her. "Pansy," she said, and Pansy was very excited because her mother hardly ever spoke to her directly, leaving that business to the house elves and Pansy's nanny, Mariska. "Men only want one thing." She took a drag of her cigarette, leaving red marks along the paper, and Pansy thought that was terribly sophisticated. "You're still young, but I've noticed that you've been developing. Mariska told me you started your period last week, too."

Pansy blushed and hated herself for it. If you blushed, you might as well write all the secrets of your heart out on a piece of parchment and hold it up for the world to see.

"No, it's fine, dear. You're an early bloomer like I was. Boys – and men, too – are going to start looking at you. They'll want to talk to you. It'll feel nice, all that attention, but you mustn't believe it."

"What do you mean?" Pansy asked, frowning. The only boys that talked to her were Draco and Greg and Vince and Blaise, and they all acted the same as ever.

"You know about sex, don't you?" her mother asked, setting down her cigarette for a moment to work on her eyeshadow. She was wearing the robe she always wore when she got ready to go out. It was pink satin, with pink fur around the cuffs. Pansy loved it and had tried it on many times when her mother wasn't home. It always smelled like her perfume.

"I – yes," Pansy said. She knew enough, surely. She'd seen the magazine that Vince had brought over recently, of people being naked together. She'd huddled over it with Draco and Vince and Greg (Blaise had not been there that day) and they'd all giggled and said mocking things about the people in the pictures. In truth, though, it had made her deeply uncomfortable. She could still see the images when she closed her eyes.

"Well. You need to understand that sex is the only thing that drives boys and men. It's all they want. They're half animal, darling, if you want to know the truth. I'm telling you this because I don't want you to think that their desire for sex means that they love you. I don't care if you have sex. Maybe wait until you're a bit older, but otherwise, that's your business. I just don't want you going into it with rose-colored glasses. I don't want you to let yourself be used."

Her mother took a break from talking, then, to call for a glass of cognac. A house elf hurried in with a crystal glass of it on a silver tray and set it down carefully, then left without saying a word.

Pansy sat up straighter. "I would never let myself be used."

"Excellent," said her mother. "But you know, it's not always a bad thing, that men are the way they are. They'll go to great lengths to obtain what they desire. They'll lie, cheat, steal, even kill if they want you badly enough. You can use that to your advantage. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Pansy thought about this. She couldn't imagine any of her friends doing any of those things because they wanted to have sex with her, but what did she know?