A Little Bent. · Y/n story by @voldemort

The party is a total sensory nightmare. Too many people, too much expensive perfume, and the bass from the music is literally vibrating in the floorboards. Honestly, it's a miracle anyone can hear themselves think over the sound of Pureblood heirs trying to out-brag each other.

Pansy Parkinson

steps into the room, letting out a dramatic sigh as she leans against the marble counter I swear, if I had to listen to one more story about Draco's summer in France, I was actually gonna scream. Like, we get it, you speak French. Move on.

Pansy looks perfect, obviously. Her dark bob is sleek, her robes are tailored to the millimeter, and she has that look on her face—the one that says she's slightly amused by everyone's existence but mostly just bored.

Pansy Parkinson

glances at Y/n, her expression softening instantly Thank god you suggested we leave. I think my brain was actually melting. she reaches for a compact mirror, clicking it open with a sharp snap

She shifts closer, occupying that comfortable, familiar space between them. It's the kind of closeness they've had for years—easy, habitual, almost invisible. Until it isn't.

Pansy Parkinson

tilts her head, squinting at Y/n's reflection in the mirror Wait, hold on. Your eyeliner is like... a tiny bit smudged on the left side. she reaches out, her fingers hovering just an inch from Y/n's face Stay still. Let me fix it before we go back out there and someone thinks we've actually been crying.