Itâs strange. Blink and you might almost think theyâve gone back in time, an era when things were different, when they could truly call each other friends. Itâs almost the same, but it isnât quite. Thereâs an apprehensiveness about the pair of them, a lack of intimacy. They arenât quite at peace with each other - and you can see. But, Pansy thinks, at least theyâve done a damn good jobs with their masks. At least alcohol can make a friend out of anyone. âGood.â Pansy snorts, moving to lie back on her bed. âI was hoping the costume enough would do that, but itâs nice to have a secret weapon.â Umbridge really was a sadistic fuck. As bad as the Carrows, for sure. Shooting upwards at Millieâs words, Pansyâs smile turns genuine. âYou bought me a present?â Thereâs no point hiding the fact that sheâs touched. Because she is. Surprised too. She thought they were past thatâŠthought wrong, apparently. âOf course. You know I love being the center of attention.â
âOh, I imagine the costumeâs enough,â Millicent assures her. âThat particular shade of pink is probably the backdrop for half of their nightmares,â she mutters. Umbridgeâs reign occupies an odd position in Millieâs thoughts. Most of it is terrible, but, well, here with Pansy â- it was also the last time she and Pansy were truly friends, in a way that had more truth and heart to it than the guise theyâre assuming now, and seeing Pansy dressed up as the woman herself, well. It has an odd effect on the nostalgia of the moment. Millieâs never been one for sentiment, but maybe some things can be earnest without being overt. Pansyâs smile, though. Sharp as she can be, itâs a real one, and no matter the jokes their classmates might make, thatâs the difference, Millie thinks. You donât bet against Pansy Parkinson, sure, but sheâs human beneath it all. Even if most of them never get to see it. She shrugs slightly, but thereâs an answering smile on her own lips, almost wistful, but mostly just warm. She shakes her head with a breath of laughter at Pansyâs words, and reaches under her pillow and pulls out a wrapped parcel. Itâs meticulously wrapped because, well, Millicent canât afford to buy people things, but she has steady hands, and this â- this matters. Itâs odd. She and Pansyâ-theyâre different now. Millie doesnât regret whatâs pulled them apart, not really, not when itâs what gives her a chance and a choice and the knowledge she can be something other than a weapon, but â- but it means Pansy has one less person tethering her to shore. And maybe Millie isnât part of that same space anymore, but... at least she can give Pansy something, right? Sometimes it can be nice to have something to hold onto. Pansy Parkinson is stronger than most, but that doesnât mean itâs easy to be her.
The wrapping is silver. Millie thinks about its contents â- there are only two things, and Millie internally scowls at the ridiculing expression she imagines Draco would have made at that, once upon a time, back when he was on top of the world and not licking his wounds and forgoing responsibility for the mess theyâre all in. Thereâs a jacket, because fabrication charms are her familial legacy, and a pendant. The jacket is a deep, dark green, soft and sleek and interwoven with charms. Some from her fatherâs notebooks, some she chose herself â- temperature charms, charms to resist wear and tear, and sheâs tried to weave some shielding charms in, though sheâs not sure itâll hold up to any truly serious spell. Millieâs proud of the cut, though, of the way it looks â- sleek and dangerous but something softer on the inside. Itâs a lot like Pansy that way. The pendant is also sleek. Pansyâs not someone Millicent associates with that which is large and bulging and clunky, and the chain is fine, though Millie spent her last two Charms club sessions strengthening it. Hanging off it is a thin snake, wrapped around a flower; Millieâs not sure why this reminds her of Pansy, why this was the shape she chose, but it fits, somehow. Thereâs the obvious, she supposes, but this snake isnât just Slytherin, or at least, isnât more Slytherin than Pansy â- it is coiled ready to spring, to protect viciously, and Millie canât imagine something more Pansy than that. Something with venom and sharp teeth, but always ready to turn those weapons on those that try attack its nest. A snake coiled around a flower â- some might see it as suffocating, as trapping the flower, but Millie sees protection, and something about that speaks of Pansy Parkinson, with her words like knives and smile like a wolf, but who would lunge for the throat of anyone who went after one of her own, one of her Slytherins.
The parcel is in her hands, and then â she passes it to Pansy. She hesitates a second, and then: Pansy and Millie are not really friends, not like they once were, but they will always be Slytherins, and that means something. It might be the only thing that means anything at all. And so maybe she can give her a truth, or the hints of one. âItâs â- itâs not much,â she says, her tone mostly brusque, but thereâs something there behind it all â a little vulnerability, perhaps, and the slight twisting of her fingers. âI made them.â It is not a statement of pride, or bragging, nothing like that, but nor is it a confession, an admission of why â- it is something in between. Something like: This is the most truth Iâve ever said about this, even if itâs nothing at all. Something like: Maybe I donât have a lot, but at least I have enough of me to make this â I wanted you to have this.