Shadowed
1st September, 1991
"Miss Pansy, it is ten o'clock, Mistress tells Lette to wake you up." Lette’s squeaky voice rung into my ears. I couldn't see her but she must have been close because her voice sounded particularly loud.
I raised my head feeling groggy; last night I had been far too excited to sleep, but now I wish I had. I lifted myself from the bed slowly and drew back the curtains. The sky was grey from lack of sun, the ground still damp from last night's rain, but none of this could affect my mood.
It was the first of September, and at eleven o'clock I would be boarding the Hogwarts Express as a first year! I could feel the butterflies in the pit of my stomach, something I tried not think about because I was feeling a little dizzy from it already.
After showering I dressed quickly, brushing through my hair before checking my room twice for important things I had missed. I ran down the stairs, more alive now that I was
fully awake.
I bounced into the kitchen, where my mother sat at the kitchen table looking more like a statue than a human. She wore her best cream-coloured suit and her hair had been pulled up into a tight bun, making her look very business like. She looked over at the door frame where I was standing.
"Good morning, Pansy. Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to eat some breakfast?" she asked, in her usual stiff voice.
I didn't reply as I slid onto the chair opposite her, helping myself to orange juice and cereal. As I ate I watched Lette scrub the kitchen floor, my Mother's face hidden by the
Daily Prophet- as usual. So it was to my surprise when she put it down, looking directly over at me.
"I can see that you are… overwhelmed by the fact that you will be starting school shortly," she said keeping her voice business like. "But you must not forget your expectations," she warned.
I nodded, sure that the confusion was flickering over my face.
"I expect that you will be sorted into Slytherin; therefore, you will associate with Mudbloods as little as possible. You shall achieve high grades, make friends with respectable Purebloods, and I will not tolerate any Quidditch playing. You are a young lady, not a boy. Do you understand, Pansy?"
"Yes, Mother." I felt slightly disappointed, I knew that I wouldn't be able to play Quidditch this year, but I had hoped that in second year...
After breakfast I gathered my things and we headed to Kings Cross Station. On the way my Mother told me again about how inhumanly Mudbloods were; I didn't really see the point why would I want to be friends with 'savages' - a term which my Mother often referred to them as.
"You know when I was at school, I was the leader of my group, and everyone wanted to be my friend. I hope that you can say the same one day," she said casually, as we walked to the platform.
I was amazed at how the Muggles didn't notice us walking through a wall, but my mother had once told me that they were stupid and I agreed with her now.
Just before I boarded the train, my mother put her hands on my shoulders. "Remember what I
have said to you, do not disappoint me," she reminded me.
As I watched her walk away, I had thought she was going to hug me. It was worse when I noticed another mother hugging her child. I quickly got on the train, trying to wash the feeling off myself.
I will always hug my own children.
27 December 1994,
I was on my way back to the common room to read the letter Mother had just sent; I tended to read them in private so I wouldn't have to hide the looks on my face.
I had sent her a letter just before Christmas, explaining that I would be staying at the castle to attend the Yule Ball on Christmas Day. I did not forget to mention that I was going with Draco Malfoy. Hoping that she may be pleased, it also would prove her wrong.
****
We had been shopping in Diagon Alley, right before the beginning of school.
"I don't see why you need dress robes this year, who will you attend the ball with," she" muttered underneath her breath, still loud enough for me to hear.
In the end, she picked out hideous, pink, frilly robes, even though she knew that pink was far from my favourite colour, profoundly refusing to let me have the silver ones.
****
I can remember swearing to myself that I would prove her wrong. I smirked, knowing that I had.
"Purity," I mumbled, walking into the Slytherin common room. The common room was empty, to
my pleasure. I sat on a large, emerald leather sofa, which was positioned right in front of the fire.
Opening the letter carefully, I never felt quite prepared what it would contain.
Pansy,
I am glad that you are keeping good company for a change. The Malfoys have a very ancient Pureblood line, and I am intrigued to whether he will take an interest in you.
Indeed I have read the Daily Prophet and seen the pictures on the Yule Ball, which is what I was meaning to ask you about. Is there any particular reason why your picture was not there? I must say that girl in your year, Hermione Granger, I can understand why she would appear in the papers. She has a certain charm, a shame that she is a Mudblood.
I'll expect that your grades are still up despite the disruption.
Mother.
My eyes bulged. Well, at least it was short and she seemed happy about one thing. But I wasn't in shock because she had seemed satisfied with something, though it was remarkable, moreso because she actually thought Granger was pretty! That filthy Mudblood, pretty?
Still irritated, I threw the letter in the fire watching while the flames furiously attacked the pale sheet until it was only ash - most of my Mother’s letters ended up this way.
Using my hands, I pushed myself off the chair and began walking towards the common room door. Still feeling so irate, I wanted to take a walk before my friends found me, so that by then I would feel more placid.
I walked up and onto the grounds, every inch covered in blindingly white snow, taking little notice of the students around me.
"Excuse me, could we have a quick word." I looked, up to see the voice had come from none other than Rita Skeeter, her stiff blonde curls the same as always and her rhinestone
glasses slid half-way down her nose. "You're in Hermione Granger's year, right?" she asked.
I grinned in spite of myself. Well, let's see what Mother thinks of Little Miss Granger now.
"Yes," I replied, sounding a little too innocent.
"Well, what do you think of Hermione?" she asked again, this time a sly grin was slowly appearing on her face, revealing three gold teeth.
"Honestly, I think Hermione is rather mean... She keeps flitting between Harry and Victor and I really think she is hurting their feelings." I tried my best to use a sickly sweet voice; I could see Rita was hanging on to my every word.
"You mean Harry Potter and Victor Krum?" Her eyebrows raised in surprise.
I nodded in response, and walked off without another word.
Ha, now everyone will see her for what she really is.
31st July 1997
The sunset ran through the window, as the untouched velvet curtains sat at standstill either side. The letter lay at my side, scarlet ink glistening from the rays of light that entered the room. I laid on my bed, curling my knees and hugging them to my chest. At last it was safe to think about what had happened today. I wished that he would have done it sooner, because I was no safer here from prying eyes than from at school. Not that he had much choice, he had sent me an owl because since the incident he hadn't returned to school.
I couldn't quite understand the letter. Though there were only five words, it didn't make sense. I wasn't sure what I had done, or if I had done anything at all. I
picked the letter up again reading it over; pointless, really, because they were already etched into my brain.
It's over, I’m sorry.
Draco
I closed my eyes but not to sleep; for some reason it feels safer than to have them open. As soon as I closed them, the pleading tears flow down my freckled cheeks. I wiped them swiftly at first but abandoned the effort soon after. I felt the letter slide through my hand onto the bed, finding it hard to hold myself together. Crying is not something I am used to, it is not
something you do when you have my mother.
****
"Why are you crying?" she hissed.
"Because I hurt myself," I replied, a fresh batch of tears forming.
"What will crying solve? Do I cry when I hurt myself?" she asked as she towered over me in an intimidating manor.
I shook my head as I wiped the tears from my face. Pushing myself off the floor, I made a mental note that crying was something that I would never do again. Then she could never make me feel so silly inside.
****
Of course, as time went on I realised that she could do this with many over things. I didn't care, nor could I control myself. I felt as if I had been shattered into a million pieces, beyond repair. I felt numb inside. I could never eat, sleep, or laugh again and I didn't think I would care. I just felt so hollow now; I would never love again not if love and pain went hand in hand.
I heard the door open, tried to grab the letter but she snatched it right out of my hand. I wiped my tears away hastily but the evidence was already there. I was sure my eyes were red and bloodshot and I could still feel the wetness on my cheeks.
I opened my eyes warily, my mother was still looking at the letter, I groaned inwardly when I registered her opinion: disapproval.
"This is why you are crying?" she asked with her eyebrows raised.
I opened my mouth, then closed it, nothing I could say would justify it and therefore it was better to remain quiet until she finished.
"You know, you are not the first person to be broken up with. It is no excuse to cry. Do you think that I cried when my first boyfriend broke up with me? Well, actually my first boyfriend was your father and we were married after we graduated," she said, in what my
opinion sounded rather smug.
I just stared at her, disbelief written over my face. Did she think this was a competition? Are you not meant to comfort your daughter when she breaks up with her boyfriend? Again, I forgot only normal mothers do that.
She turned to leave, obviously feeling pleased with herself, but turned to face me when she reached the door. "Maybe, if you lost a couple of pounds and pulled yourself together he
might want you back. After all, you will want to marry into an ancient Pureblood family, will you not?"
She closed the door. I waited until I had heard her walk down the stairs. I felt the thick lump in my throat and before I knew it I was crying again. These tears were different from before in that they were not silent, but heart-wrenching sobs that noisily escaped my throat. I was sure that Mother could hear me, and this made me cry even more, how could she sit there and not even want to comfort me.
The tears began to run dry but still I sobbed, broken and tearless sobs. Finally they seemed to subside and for that I was grateful. Crying was a powerless action that exhausted me. I let my head droop onto the pillow, not bothering to climb inside the covers or get undressed, and I let my eyes close.
Promising that I would never be like this to my daughter.
2nd May 1998
I landed with a thump onto my drawing room carpet, dirt covering my robes. I stood up, immediately sweeping the soot from myself. At that precise moment, my house elf Lette came rushing into the room.
"Mistress Parkinson, what is you doing home from Hogwarts?" she squeaked, her face worried and confused.
I ignored her question, as there was no time to sit and explain--well, not to her anyway. "Where
is Mother?"
"Mistress is in the garden having tea," Lette replied before hurrying out of the room.
I sprinted out to the garden, something I never do, to find my Mother sipping tea and reading the Daily Prophet. It felt strange that she could sit here whilst the biggest battle
in history was occurring.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"We were sent home. The Dark Lord is at Hogwarts. He has come to seek Harry Potter and so our professors gave us the choice either to fight or return home," I said, giving the outline rather than go into detail.
"It's about time, someone needs to teach that insolent child a lesson! But why are you here? You should have helped catch that brat. I'm sure the majority will defend him," she said disapprovingly, as if I was responsible for this.
"Would you like me to go back?" I asked, my voice dripping in sarcasm.
"Well, there really is no point now, is there?"
I turned away from her walking back into the house, anger pulsed my veins. Howcould she be so heartless? Wasn't she glad I was safe? That was a stupid question, the answer was blatantly no.
I dragged my tired feet up the marble stairs and along the corridor to my bedroom. Once inside I closed the door and pressed my back upon it as I sunk onto the fluffy cream-coloured carpet. I looked around my perfectly ordinary room, and I felt out of place. How could it look so normal when something like this was occurring?
I walked out onto my balcony, shrugging off my school robes so that I was in just a shirt and skirt, the summer air blowing lightly against my skin in a soothing way. I looked down to see my mother still sitting in the same spot I had left her. It amazed me how calm and collected she looked, not even worried that something so terrible was happening; reminding me of how heartless and cold my mother was.
I had always promised myself that I would never be like her: cold, heartless, crude, intimidating, envious, and a bully. But I was. I was exactly like her, I had spent my whole life trying to please her so much that I had become her. I felt shock and shame take over my body, I was my mother. All those times I had bullied others, seen the looks on their
faces. The looks of how I felt when my mother bullied me. All those times I had been cruel to my friends because I thought that in some way I was pleasing her, when really I was just turning into her. Today, when I had been so ready to offer Potter up to the Dark Lord, just to save my own skin. That was something that Mother would have done. How could this have happened? I had turned into the one person I detested.
I stumbled back into the room, reaching out to find the bed, my mind confused yet so clear. I had let this go on for too long, only now could I see how smothered I was by her darkness, suffocating. It had to stop. It was time, time to listen to my own head rather than try and figure what was running through hers. I smiled, even though there was hardly anything to smile about, at last I had broken free from this shadow. A shadow that I had been trapped in all these years and that was a reason to smile.
15th January 2006,
I heard a knock at the door. The devil had arrived! I walked slowly to the door, knowing that it would test her patience.
"Hello, Mother," I said, greeting her at the door.
She stepped around me, not waiting to be invited in. "What took you so long?" she asked, her tone irritated.
I walked into the kitchen, not bothering to answer her question, and she followed behind me.
"Tea?" I asked, pouring a cup for myself.
She nodded. "I still don't understand what you see in this dingy place, it is hideous," she said rudely.
But she couldn't provoke me, not anymore. I just smiled. "First, it is an apartment. Second, I like it and that's all that matters. And third, it is close to work."
"Hmmm..." I could have laughed at the expression on her face.
Suddenly her face brightened. "Oh, you will never guess who is pregnant!" she said as she sipped the tea I handed her, not before wiping the edge of the cup.
"Who?" I wasn't really interested. I think she caught on but carried on anyway.
"Astoria, you remember her, don’t you? Her sister was in your year. She married Draco Malfoy."
she said, smirking.
Now I understood why it had been vital to tell me: she knew fully well that I knew Astoria and naturally she loved to remind me that my former love had moved on. Something about her spite bugged me, I had really had enough. All those years, her rude and spiteful comments, it just had to stop. I really had reached my tether.
"Is that why you came Mother, to taunt me?"
She didn't even pretend to be shocked. "I was just mentioning it, I guess you're still jealous that he married her and not you."
"Maybe I am, still at least he didn't marry me and divorce me when I was carrying his child," I replied, watching the shock momentarily flash across her face.
"If I were to have known what you were turn out like then I too would have walked away," she finished brutally, looking straight into my eyes.
"Get out!" I hissed. But she sat rooted, becoming amused. "Did you not here me? Get out," I repeated.
"I am your mother, do not talk to me that way."
"Mother? You wouldn't know how to be a mother if someone had taught you! You have never been a mother to me, you are cruel and rude for no apparent reason, nothing I ever do is
good enough, but I guess bullies don't have reasons. So for the last time, get out, and you are no longer welcome here."
This time she did not reply but she did get up. I didn't watch her leave, instead I listened for the click of the door shutting. Leaning against my counter, I felt relieved and surprised. I never thought I could have done that, I never thought it would have be over in less than five minutes, there was still so much that I could have said. At least it
was over now, no more taunting and she knew exactly how I felt.
At long last, the shadow had gone.