The Seven Boyfriends Of Pansy Parkinson

INTRODUCTION

Helen Jones had just finished reading some memoir about the Weasley family 'Weasley is our King' it was pretty good, she hated how her nemesis Dane wrote it, they had graduated Hogwarts the same year, yet here he was on the top seller's list.

Helen had not published a single article let alone a book.

Dane was rubbing it in her face, Helen had run out of good luck. Or any luck for that matter.

Her editor called her in, "I need something" his voice was stern he meant all business.

"I'm trying, don't I get some credit for trying?" she smiled hoping he would sympathize.

"I could set up an interview with Luna Lovegood, everyone loves to read about war heroes, look how well Dane is doing."

Helen rolled her eyes.

"Listen, Jones, I need at least an idea by the end of the month, or you're out of here, simple as that"

She wanted to start packing her cubical already. But instead, she started walking to her flat, which she shared with her friend Mallory. Mallory had been born into money, Carrows had loads of money, so she paid the majority of rent which always made Helen feel bad.

When she walked in Mallory, Mal could sense something was wrong. "Is it about Dane?"

Helen nodded in agreement setting down her things.

"Merlin I mean it's not like he's done anything that grand" Mal walked over and served her tea.

"He's number two, out of all the rubbish published this month he's second"

"First loser" Mal smiled trying to make her feel better.

"I should write about the love story between Ron and Hermione, that would sell." she slumped down on the couch knocking her boots off.

Mal took a seat "Everyone wants a love story like theirs."

"Yeah, I too wish I could fall in love with my best friend and everything would be perfect for the rest of my life" Helen took large sips of her tea as she closed her eyes.

"Is this you confessing your love to me, Helen?" Mal joked.

She threw a pillow at her.

Mal laughed "You know my mum said she never wanted to be Hermione Granger, she wanted to be Pansy Parkinson"

"The death eater?" she asked.

"I forget you're a muggle-born, Pansy Parkinson had seven fabulous boyfriends, and I mean fabulous"

Helen remembered hearing some talk about her, and it all clicked.

The next morning she stormed into her editor's office basically taking down the door.

"The Seven Boyfriends of Pansy Parkinson" was all she said.

"What?"

"I'm going to write about love, the '90s, war, and well death eaters." she felt her fingers itching for parchment and a quill.

"Parkinson has agreed?" his jaw dropped.

"Oh, well no, but that's step one"

He took a deep breath in, "Get her to write her story, it better be good because no one really wants to hear about a death eaters perspective on the war"

"I won't let you down boss" she stormed out.

she slowly poked her head back in "You wouldn't happen to know where she lives?" she scrunched her nose and smiled at him.

"Parkinson manor, on a hill, no visitors in over years"

She didn't let that get to her. Next thing she knew she was standing outside of the manor knocking on the doors.

No one answered for an hour, but she kept going. She needed this, and well she wanted it too.

Helen saw the door opening and Pansy although in her 50's looks magnificent, hair still pitch black, a few wrinkles, wearing a black robe that went down her chest. She looked like a movie star, she was all regal grace.

"What do you want?" she asked, voice tough as nails.

"A story, your story"

"I'm not interested, neither is anyone out there" the door shut in her face.

Helen was not mentally strong enough to face rejection. Too much had happened, her boyfriend of two years walked out only leaving a note, her father died, and well she was about to be fired.

The tears rolled down her face, "Please, I'm not from this world, I don't think I belong, I don't know why I have magic, but I do. And every single day I've felt like an outsider and I really need this." She was sobbing at this point.

The door opened after a while "If we are going to do this you cannot cry, interrupt me, ever. And you must promise to write my story as I tell it, you can interview those who wish to be, and most importantly you are not going to half-ass this. This will be your everything, think of it as your baby. Those are my conditions. This is my story and you will not tarnish it"

Helen wrote down every single one of her conditions. "This is my baby" she agreed, she needed something to give all of herself to, this story would be it, she had always dreamed of just writing and reading for the rest of her life, one half of that was coming true.

Pansy examined her head to toe. "What's your name?"

"Helen Jones" when Pansy spoke Helen knew she wanted direct answers.

"Listen, Helen, you can have all the money we make off of this, again all I ask is that you don't change my story, even if it's not the one you want to hear."

"I promise, you can even see the final draft before I submit it" she meant it, she couldn't imagine finally telling her story, and some idiot twenty-two-year-old fucking it all up.

Pansy nodded and took a seat by a window and pulled out a cigarette. Helen thought if she could draw she would draw that moment and make it the cover of her book, but she was getting ahead of herself.

"You're going to need to get in contact with, Draco Malfoy, Adrian Pucey, Lucian Bole, Micheal Corner, Marco Balt, Ernie Macmillan and Theodore Nott, tell them you're writing this with or without their say, they can add their version as well if they wish. Because maybe this isn't even fully my story, it's all of ours."

Helen shook her hand and well the rest is history.

Helen Jones:

Authors note:

This is her story, I just simply wrote it down. Pansy Parkinson. A note from her:

'To those who are walking sunlight.'