Chapter Text
Aesthete
She wasn’t jealous of Astoria Greengrass for marrying the Malfoy heir. No. Draco Malfoy was attractive and posh in that distinctly pureblooded way that the rest of the wizarding community found offensive. He was a perfect match in all the ways that counted—except for chemistry. Pansy wished her younger self could have overlooked such a trivial consideration.
She and Draco had burned hot and fast at Hogwarts. But now all that remained were two friends who’d seen each other naked and shared some questionable evenings. She'd sent him packing, figuratively, and only weeks after their years-long dalliance had ended, he was auctioned off to the highest bidder.
No, Pansy Parkinson wasn’t jealous of Astoria for marrying Draco. She was jealous because Astoria Greengrass was about to become the wealthiest pureblooded woman alive, and Pansy had been desperate to claim that title for herself.
She had luxurious dreams: weekly trips to Milan, midnight excursions to Paris, holidays in New York. She wanted closets overflowing with designer gowns—both Muggle and magical. Because, let’s be honest, those Muggles knew what they were doing.
She was still wealthy, of course—disturbingly. But after the fall of the Parkinson family and the reign of You-Know-Who, their vaults were on a steady decline. If she continued spending as she always had, her inheritance would quickly dry up.
Gone would be the days of VIP booths at the Celestial Nightclub. She'd lose her repertoire with Madam Malkin. She'd be force to learn to—to budget!
And so Pansy Parkinson wasn’t jealous of Astoria Greengrass for marrying Draco Malfoy. But she did need what the young witch found—and she needed it fast.