“Well, who could blame her, if she had lost her common sense?” Sophie knows she should speak more kindly of Granger, as that is what she does in the office, but she likes speaking more candidly, for once. Better in front of Paris than any of their goody-two-shoes colleagues, anyway. “Losing her best friend, being almost framed for it … must take quite a toll.” Augustus Rookwood was a mastermind, Sophie thought, and she did not often give people their due credit. “I’m sure she must be desperate. Poor woman.” There’s some feigned empathy in her voice, but she doesn’t try too hard. She takes another drag from her cigarette, thinks about the state of the Ministry ever since Kingsley’s throat had been ripped out. It was only bound to get worse. Or, depending your stance, better.
“Must be quite a life, to be so ignorant. I do wonder, sometimes, what it must be like.” Though never out of longing, more so out of curiosity. Sophie was clever enough to be able to reflect on her own childhood and pinpoint what had made her into what she was now. Not with pity or glee, but with something detached in stead. “Oh, that I know. It’s why I like you.” She wonders if she would be able to do it, imperio Paris. She almost says, cockily, that she thinks she would be, but thinks better of it. Sophie leans her head on one of her hands as she turns on her side to look at Paris’ a little more closely. “I do love the sound of you desperately wanting to keep me. You should, after all, want to. Perhaps you cheated, but I did not, and now you’re so desperately filled with regret while I’ve made my decision.”
paris looks away for a moment, unsure if she can keep her usually perfectly curated expression of nonchalance. common sense. she can’t say she knows what it would be like to lose a best friend. she can’t say she even knows what it feels like to have one. but she’s seen it. she’s seen them - harry, ron and hermione - she’s seen them all, the three of them, together. like three parts of one body. she remembers that, even fleetingly, from her childhood. watching them, and wondering. “i’m not sure we can call being driven to devastation to that point, lashing out in grief... i’m not sure that’s just losing common sense.” she’d rather hoped to avoid the topic altogether. “i do feel sorry for her.” almost framed. something about the words sits crookedly in paris’ mind. they just don’t feel right. “i’m not one for pity, usually, but that... i don’t know.” and for once, she doesn’t. she has no words, nothing to say.
and then the moment is gone, and she’s able to look at sophie again, a lilting smile dancing over her face. composure won back, again. “probably a lot more boring. and a lot simpler. i genuinely think i’d rather a dragon ate me alive than live like that.” she says it with a small wave of her hand. inane. boring. meaningless. but still, a little probing. that’s why i like you. she grins, and winks at sophie. “oh, i know you do, darling.” she likes me, for now. until i get boring, or until i’m useless, or until i do something to offend her. the same is true of her own affections, however. they’re utilitarian. she wonders if she’ll ever be anything but utilitarian. whether that is truly how to live a life. she ignores the thought. the idea of the imperius curse is forgotten - paris is rather certain she could resist most anyone, or scare them off before they tried. besides, she wouldn’t be much use to anyone, as a puppet. not for now, at least. “oh, i love it. fake begging for you to come back to me. they’ll eat it up.”