Mistress of the UniverseWord count:
The girls belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.Author’s Notes:
This was written for the current challenge at femslash100
Occasionally, Hermione made excuses to go and see Pansy Parkinson in the Auror department. It was easy: they’d collaborated once, on one of Hermione’s Unspeakable projects.
The work was frustrating, and made Hermione feel helpless. She should have been a master of the universe.
When she couldn’t stand it any more, she went to Pansy. Hermione stood behind her as Pansy sat at her desk, and murmured in her ear: innocuous words designed to pluck at memories, as though Pansy were an instrument to quiver under Hermione’s fingers.
“It’s good to see you again… Yes, that’s just right… let’s do that again, shall we?... Don’t worry… I know best in this, I think… It’s wonderful
to see you like this…”
Pansy’s dark eyes would go soft, dazed; her lips ripe and parted in confusion; her forehead wrinkled, her head cocked as if she were trying to recall a song she’d heard a long time ago.
Hermione always stopped herself in time: pulled back, so the walls of the spell remained standing. But she kept going further. Soon, Hermione’s pushing at what Pansy could not remember would bring the walls tumbling down.
No matter. Obliviation could always be re-applied.