Character Name: Pansy Parkinson
Nicknames: None
Age: 19
Date of Birth: December 17th, 1980
Played By: Natalie Dormer


APPEARANCE

Eyes: Blue
Hair: Dark brown
Height/Build: 5'6" bordering on 5'7", slender
Physical Description: Pansy is a pretty girl, more so than one would expect given her reputation. Her dark brown hair (mid-back length and straight, though it does retain a slight wavy texture if she scrunches it right after showering) and soft features are offset by her bright, blue eyes, giving her a bit of a harsh look when she wants. Years of being called Pug-Nose Parkinson has made her slightly-squatter-than-usual nose a bit of a sore spot for Pansy; her hands and feet are unsurprisingly delicate, lacking any signs of physical labor that might appear on someone who has lived a less comfortable life. Her smile is wide rather than big, and one side of her mouth easily curves up into a smirk when the situation warrants it. About average height at 5'6" and with a slim frame, she takes pride in her appearance, keeping her shoulders straight and her chin held high at all times.


BACKGROUND

Family: Two parents, still living: Pearce and Eloise. They've grown distant over the past couple of years due to increasingly dissimilar points of view pertaining to Lord Voldemort and his views and methods, though they do maintain correspondence. She has no siblings and a fairly distant extended family (she does have a favorite cousin, Rhys). No spouses or children.
Pets: A barn owl named Egan, a girl, who has been with Pansy since her first year at Hogwarts. (Pronounced EE gin)

Wand: Reed, 10 1/2", Kelpie hair
House: Slytherin
Blood Status: Pureblood
Occupation: After taking a year off, she would have just recently started at her desired occupation. With her name mostly unsullied after the War, Pansy has easily found work with the Ministry of Magic's Department of International Magical Cooperation with the hopes of eventually moving on to become a Foreign Diplomat of sorts. She's still hashing out the details, but Pansy's happy to have a goal she can work towards.
Living Conditions: Pansy is living in a small house with Draco Malfoy, just the two of them, after spending some time in Russia with he and his mother, Narcissa Malfoy. After the Second War, the Malfoy family was beaten down and fairly broken, and so a bit of peace and quiet was in order for them; fortunately or unfortunately, the only place a family so closely involved with the Dark Lord could be left alone was in another country. Pansy, after feeling easily discarded during her and Draco's sixth year at Hogwarts and the trauma he'd been subjected to, refused to be left behind, though it's unclear how much Draco may have wanted her to come along. They were in Russia for a little over a year, healing both emotionally and physically, before Draco and Pansy bought a place of their own in Wiltshire (where Malfoy Manor is also located).
Education/Training: Attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, completing the required seven years.
O.W.L.s in Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts.
N.E.W.T.s in Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Divination.
First Impression: Brazen, single-minded, comfortable.
Personality: Not one person she's ever come in contact with can say that Pansy Parkinson is in any way fake or misleading; she very much believes in being honest about how she feels toward any person or thing, however uncomfortable it may make the situation. She is outwardly confident, more flawed than she would ever let on, and still defiantly bitchy when she feels it necessary to be. Some of her rough edges have softened since her school days - pointing and laughing at the physical or social flaws of others no longer ranks high on her list of favorable pastimes - but she can still be unforgiving and cold. Time, the war, and her fast-approaching adulthood have helped give Pansy focus and calmed her down a bit, but her snark will never truly be gone.
Her tenacity, and will to ensure the well-being and happiness of herself and those she considers family, often comes as a surprise to those who do not know her very well. As would how warm she can be towards the people she cares about. She's not a robot; she has feelings, she's just skilled at keeping them to herself when she needs to. Seeing as she's only had legitimate feelings for one boy in her life, I suppose he would be the only one to have see that private, affectionate side of Pansy, especially beyond hair stroking and hand holding. She doesn't need lots of words; just small gestures that let her know she's wanted are good with her.
Weaknesses: When she was younger it would easily have been the blatant inability to see past her prejudices, but I think she's mellowed a bit since then, only meaning that she has learned and mastered the art of subtly when it comes to how she deals with people she chooses to dislike. She's very stubborn, quick to judge, and can be extremely fussy when she doesn't get her way.
Strengths: Strong-willed, loyal, unashamed, a fighter, focused, honest - even if it gets her in trouble. If you are foolish enough to threaten her family or the people she holds dear, she will find the most efficient way to cause you pain and humiliation. She knows what she likes and doesn't like, and she's okay with that.
Likes: Colder weather, extremely comfortable beds, fruit desserts, well tended-to gardens, people who can play along, candor, nighties, dusk, the smell of her boyfriend's soap on his skin, her Slytherin ring, legs, music with a heavy bass, art that makes her tilt her head to the side, timing.
Dislikes: Those of less-than-desirable social, economic, or blood status. Invasions of her personal space, pumpkin juice, people who choose to remain stagnant in their lives, (not purposefully) wrinkled clothing, being unaware of one's surroundings, bare feet on cold floors.
History: If you put stock into the belief that nature overpowers nurture, then Pansy never had a chance to be anything other than who she is. Born to two calculative, conniving people, Pansy was instilled with the belief that she and all other Purebloods deserve to be treated better than all other witches and wizards in every aspect of life, and they'll be damned if anyone tries to deny that. While she was never lonely, neglected, or lacking in toys and lavish gifts, there was a time when Pansy wished she could have a better relationship with her mother: the two women clashed very often while Pansy was growing up, and neither of them took the time to mend the relationship before it was (in their eyes) too late. Perhaps Eloise was too harsh on the girl, nitpicking her looks and her friends and decisions on a regular basis, but Pearce was there when Pansy needed him. The lack of a close mother-daughter relationship was not a crippling loss to Pansy, and she continues on with her life just fine, sending letters to her parents often.
When she began schooling at Hogwarts, it had already been drilled into Pansy's head that she needed to be sure to socialize with only the best students. Fortunately, she was joined by some of her childhood friends in the Slytherin House, which made the transition easier. After the charm of first year had worn off, it became clear to Pansy that her family name was not as high-up within her House and she would have liked (Pearce and Eloise are not, nor have they ever been, Death Eaters, the elitist of the elite), and so she began to work her way up the hierarchy of Slytherins until she was comfortable and untouchable.
Throughout her life there has been one solid constant, and that is the way she feels for Draco Malfoy. From an extremely early age it was apparent to Pansy that he was it for her; she could have other relationships if she wanted, but she would always come back to the young Malfoy boy. Instead of flitting from guy to guy, Pansy chose to wait for Draco; wait for him to stop thinking she had cooties, wait for him to notice her, wait and hope that he felt anything more than friendship toward her. It took a while, and she endured her fair share of teasing and rude words directed at her and her apparent "obsession" with Draco Malfoy, but she never considered any of it a waste of time. They stand strong after all they've been through, personally and publicly, and it's safe to say that the burst of warmth she feels in her the pit of her belly when he looks at her a certain way will never go away.
Anything else? Her Patronus is an arctic fox, as would be her Animagus if she ever chose to become one. She smells Quidditch leather, raspberries, and snow in her Amortentia.


WRITING SAMPLE

Word had spread quickly throughout the Wizarding community, even to those who had excluded themselves for quite some time, that trouble was possibly arising again. I'd gathered bits and pieces of the Rita Skeeter article about Harry Potter's disappearance, through reading a sentence here and there while walking by the paper on a table or by people who were discussing it and did not know when it was proper to lower their voices. There was no desire to sit and read the column in its entirety; I'd learned enough, and knowing Ms Skeeter as I did during my fifth year at Hogwarts, one could never be sure of just how true her words were. The reluctance to believe Harry Potter still lingered, but it was in no way as strong as it had once been. Was he just seeking more glory and attention, as the Mind Healer Bahman has claimed in the article? Possibly, but even in these newly peaceful days it would be foolish to not remain cautious, and Potter had been right about most things in the past. This was perhaps proof that I felt I had a lot more to lose now should the violence erupt again for whatever reason. To say Pansy Parkinson had never been Harry Potter's biggest fan would be a understatement, as I'd taken great pleasure in incessantly poking he and his friends (figuratively, of course; I liked to keep my hands clean) during our time at Hogwarts. When it came time to choose between fighting a losing battle and turning Potter over to the Dark Lord, my decision had been quick and easy.

"But he's there! Potter's there. Somebody grab him!"
The words did not haunt me. They did not cause a flush to appear on my cheeks, they did not make my cast my eyes downward in shame, I did not flinch with regret at any mention of them. In fact, I believe them to be a proper indication of who I was at the time: a frightened seventeen-year old girl on what was to be the last day of the Second War, who had no idea whether or not her family was safe, who saw a very simple solution to everyone's problems and was the only person with enough nerve to say what was on the minds of at least a quarter of the students in that Great Hall. I suppose I should be grateful for the fact that my saying those words isn't brought up as often as one would think. Though I’m not sure 'grateful' is the correct term; 'glad to not regularly be inconvenienced by the task of explaining why I do not lament saying them' works better. It was a small moment on a big day and Harry Potter saved us all, so why should anyone remember the little details? Never mind that it was Narcissa Malfoy's single-minded wish to find her son in safety that had ensured Potter made it out of that forest alive, or that Vincent Crabbe's bumbling need to assert independence and prove his machismo helped to get rid of one of the Horcruxes (though that one was a bit of a stretch).

To retain any real bitterness over that would be a waste of energy, however. I had a life now, one of my own and one that I shared. Would I be worried if news like this Skeeter article continued to come in? No; I would brace myself, and find a way to keep myself and the people I loved safe. To sit and fret about was silly, as was claiming ignorance, and neither was a way to guarantee anyone's safety. There had probably been days when I wished I knew how to put my guard down, how to not feel as though I had to constantly prowl around what was mine lest anyone feel the need to take it from me. It was not the things I couldn't bear to lose – there had always been an abundance of things in my life – it was the people who shared my last name, it was a regal woman who was single-handedly holding together an empire, and it was her often infuriating, always overwhelming son that would be my downfall should they cease to exist in my life.