100quills #3.19 Spoiled
Title: Prefects to Gain Power
Rating: G
Prompt: #3.19 Spoiled
Length: 1000 words
Genre: gen, humor, fluff
Time: Pre-Fifth Year
Characters: Pansy, her parents and brother (OCs), Draco, Lucius, Narcissa
Summary: Pansy, Draco and their respective families find out they're prefects.
"Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy. Pansy."
She shot her younger brother Rollo an irritated look over the top of Passing Your Charms OWL. "What are you, eight?"
"Play Gobstones with me."
"I already said no."
"C'mon, Pansy. I've gotten so rusty over the summer and tomorrow-"
"That's not my problem."
"Pansy..." he whined.
"Play with Alice."
"She's too little. Just one game!"
Pansy furrowed her brow and concentrated on her book.
"Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy..." he began again.
"Silencio!" his sister said suddenly, pointing her wand at him. His mouth closed and opened, but nothing came out. Pansy looked impressed with herself.
"Wow, first try," she said.
"Mr. Parkinson!" came a shriek from downstairs. "Mr. Parkinson! Pansy!"
Both children jerked up their heads. With a look of "You're in so much trouble," Rollo leapt up and ran for the door. Pansy hit him with the Leg-Locker Curse and jumped over his fallen body. She ran down the stairs to the kitchen, where she found her father giving her mother an affectionate, if skeptical, look.
"Yes, what is it, Mrs. Parkinson?" he said. She had a letter in her left hand and something clenched in her right fist, and she was flailing both arms about agitatedly as she tried to speak. Finally she thrust the letter at him, and embraced Pansy, fussing with her hair.
"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson," he read aloud. "Upon the recommendation of her head of house, it is my pleasure to tell you that I have chosen your daughter Pansy Parkinson as a prefect for the coming school year."
"I'm so proud of you, Pansy!" Her mother said, tears in her eyes. "Look at your badge!" She opened up her fist and revealed the badge lying in her palm. It was silver and green like the Slytherin crest, but a large P was superimposed on the serpent.
"Well done you, Pansy," her father said in his gruff voice. "And now that the booklists have finally arrived-" he tapped another paper lying on the kitchen table- "Seems like it's past time to go to London."
They all turned in surprise as they heard the sound of a heavy object falling down the stairs. Mr. Parkinson raised his eyebrow at his wife and stood to investigate when Rollo, red-faced and clothes twisted, hopped into view, pointing emphatically at Pansy, who was trapped in her mother's embrace.
Mr. Parkinson turned his raised eyebrow to Pansy. "Pansy," he said sternly, "Have you been, shall we say, practicing your charms?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"Is that silencio?" Her mother asked, sounding more impressed than anything. "Did you get it first try?"
Pansy grinned and nodded, and her father laughed and made two short waves of his wand at Rollo, who nearly fell over as his legs came apart.
"Parents of the year, you are," he muttered, turning to stalk back up the stairs.
---
"Lucius, I want you to complain to the Ministry about Dumbledore." Mrs. Malfoy announced at lunch.
Mr. Malfoy and Draco laughed. Mrs. Malfoy smiled a little herself, but made her voice just as stern as she said, "Yes, I know, but this is something specific. It is August 31st and we still haven't received the book lists! How does he--"
She was interrupted by an owl scratching at the window. Mr. Malfoy wiped his hands and stood up, saying dryly as he approached the window, "You should have given your command weeks ago, darling." Draco nearly choked on his macaroni.
Closing the window, he returned to the table and handed the envelope to his wife. "There's a lump in it," she said in surprise. She slit open the envelope with a nonverbal diffindo and withdrew the book list--and a badge.
"Why Draco, you've been made a prefect! Lucius, Draco's a prefect, isn't that marvelous?" She reached out and squeezed her son's hand.
"Well, of course. Who else?" said Mr. Malfoy, not looking up from his plate.
Draco had mixed feelings at this. He had taken it for granted that he would be made prefect, too, but he felt a bit hurt at his father's lack of enthusiasm.
"Can I have a present, then?"
"May you," said his mother, as his father simultaneously said "Anything you like, Draco."
That nagging little discontent poked at him again. If I had asked for a present yesterday, the response would have been exactly the same. Also, what do I want, exactly?
"What would you like, Draco?" his mother said.
Draco pushed his spoon around in his chocolate mousse. "Er... how about... a mouse tower?"
"A mouse tower?" His father's voice was surprised and disdainful, and Draco was less than pleased to see that his father was now looking at him. "Aren't you too old for that?"
"I don't like that idea Draco. All that blood, it's horrid. And what if the mice escape, they'll gnaw holes in your clothes," his mother tutted.
"It was a joke," said Draco hastily.
His father made a low sort of noise and put down his fork on his mostly empty plate. "Well. Narcissa, you can take Draco, won't you? I have business." He stood up, walked to his wife and kissed her upon the forehead in passing on his way out.
"But I haven't told you what I want," Draco called to his back.
Without stopping, his father answered, "Take as much money as you need. It doesn't matter." And he was gone.
His mother was giving him a rather too understanding smile, which somehow irritated him more. He wanted an argument and was therefore ready to snap back at anything she said.
"Pansy will be the other Slytherin prefect, I'm sure. Think of all the time you can spend together this year."
Anything except that.
Rating: G
Prompt: #3.19 Spoiled
Length: 1000 words
Genre: gen, humor, fluff
Time: Pre-Fifth Year
Characters: Pansy, her parents and brother (OCs), Draco, Lucius, Narcissa
Summary: Pansy, Draco and their respective families find out they're prefects.
"Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy. Pansy."
She shot her younger brother Rollo an irritated look over the top of Passing Your Charms OWL. "What are you, eight?"
"Play Gobstones with me."
"I already said no."
"C'mon, Pansy. I've gotten so rusty over the summer and tomorrow-"
"That's not my problem."
"Pansy..." he whined.
"Play with Alice."
"She's too little. Just one game!"
Pansy furrowed her brow and concentrated on her book.
"Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy Pansy..." he began again.
"Silencio!" his sister said suddenly, pointing her wand at him. His mouth closed and opened, but nothing came out. Pansy looked impressed with herself.
"Wow, first try," she said.
"Mr. Parkinson!" came a shriek from downstairs. "Mr. Parkinson! Pansy!"
Both children jerked up their heads. With a look of "You're in so much trouble," Rollo leapt up and ran for the door. Pansy hit him with the Leg-Locker Curse and jumped over his fallen body. She ran down the stairs to the kitchen, where she found her father giving her mother an affectionate, if skeptical, look.
"Yes, what is it, Mrs. Parkinson?" he said. She had a letter in her left hand and something clenched in her right fist, and she was flailing both arms about agitatedly as she tried to speak. Finally she thrust the letter at him, and embraced Pansy, fussing with her hair.
"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson," he read aloud. "Upon the recommendation of her head of house, it is my pleasure to tell you that I have chosen your daughter Pansy Parkinson as a prefect for the coming school year."
"I'm so proud of you, Pansy!" Her mother said, tears in her eyes. "Look at your badge!" She opened up her fist and revealed the badge lying in her palm. It was silver and green like the Slytherin crest, but a large P was superimposed on the serpent.
"Well done you, Pansy," her father said in his gruff voice. "And now that the booklists have finally arrived-" he tapped another paper lying on the kitchen table- "Seems like it's past time to go to London."
They all turned in surprise as they heard the sound of a heavy object falling down the stairs. Mr. Parkinson raised his eyebrow at his wife and stood to investigate when Rollo, red-faced and clothes twisted, hopped into view, pointing emphatically at Pansy, who was trapped in her mother's embrace.
Mr. Parkinson turned his raised eyebrow to Pansy. "Pansy," he said sternly, "Have you been, shall we say, practicing your charms?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"Is that silencio?" Her mother asked, sounding more impressed than anything. "Did you get it first try?"
Pansy grinned and nodded, and her father laughed and made two short waves of his wand at Rollo, who nearly fell over as his legs came apart.
"Parents of the year, you are," he muttered, turning to stalk back up the stairs.
---
"Lucius, I want you to complain to the Ministry about Dumbledore." Mrs. Malfoy announced at lunch.
Mr. Malfoy and Draco laughed. Mrs. Malfoy smiled a little herself, but made her voice just as stern as she said, "Yes, I know, but this is something specific. It is August 31st and we still haven't received the book lists! How does he--"
She was interrupted by an owl scratching at the window. Mr. Malfoy wiped his hands and stood up, saying dryly as he approached the window, "You should have given your command weeks ago, darling." Draco nearly choked on his macaroni.
Closing the window, he returned to the table and handed the envelope to his wife. "There's a lump in it," she said in surprise. She slit open the envelope with a nonverbal diffindo and withdrew the book list--and a badge.
"Why Draco, you've been made a prefect! Lucius, Draco's a prefect, isn't that marvelous?" She reached out and squeezed her son's hand.
"Well, of course. Who else?" said Mr. Malfoy, not looking up from his plate.
Draco had mixed feelings at this. He had taken it for granted that he would be made prefect, too, but he felt a bit hurt at his father's lack of enthusiasm.
"Can I have a present, then?"
"May you," said his mother, as his father simultaneously said "Anything you like, Draco."
That nagging little discontent poked at him again. If I had asked for a present yesterday, the response would have been exactly the same. Also, what do I want, exactly?
"What would you like, Draco?" his mother said.
Draco pushed his spoon around in his chocolate mousse. "Er... how about... a mouse tower?"
"A mouse tower?" His father's voice was surprised and disdainful, and Draco was less than pleased to see that his father was now looking at him. "Aren't you too old for that?"
"I don't like that idea Draco. All that blood, it's horrid. And what if the mice escape, they'll gnaw holes in your clothes," his mother tutted.
"It was a joke," said Draco hastily.
His father made a low sort of noise and put down his fork on his mostly empty plate. "Well. Narcissa, you can take Draco, won't you? I have business." He stood up, walked to his wife and kissed her upon the forehead in passing on his way out.
"But I haven't told you what I want," Draco called to his back.
Without stopping, his father answered, "Take as much money as you need. It doesn't matter." And he was gone.
His mother was giving him a rather too understanding smile, which somehow irritated him more. He wanted an argument and was therefore ready to snap back at anything she said.
"Pansy will be the other Slytherin prefect, I'm sure. Think of all the time you can spend together this year."
Anything except that.