Author's note: Welcome to the beginning! The beginning of an adventure marred trauma, uncertainty and stress. This adventure follows Pansy Parkinson - half Asian, half white, full bratty - and her equally wealthy and annoyingly spoiled group of friends. Enters Harry Potter - a take-no-shit, do-some-harm Detective Inspector - along with the brilliant paralegal Hermione Granger. As they work through the relentless stalking of a faceless man, they stumble upon murders and mysteries and maybe this entire ordeal has nothing to do with Pansy Parkinson at all.
Who is stalking Miss Parkinson?
What does this have to do with the Potter murders?
How is Harry Potter leading to the deaths of dozens of Romani youths?
Will Draco ever get his Rakı?
Find all the answers to your questions, and more, within! Who lives, who dies, who unironically loves Lana Del Rey - all these and porn!
This fic is nonmagical, modern AU, Hansy trash that you may or may not love. Either way, love me because I suffered through writing it, after all.
This is my first multi-chapter fic and also my love, joy, and baby. I fell in love with nonmagical/modern hansy after reading a bunch of Provocative-Envy's stuff and this is my own attempt. Please comment with constructive criticism and I am still learning!
Disclaimer: While I doubt anyone of importance would ever stumble across this trash, all rights to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I'm not making any profit off of this and if I were, it would probably be a lot better written.
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Chapter One: That Creep Over There
"- and then he just left. Like, there we were, fucking tequila shots in hand, he just bolted. It was so bizarre and we still had his car and everything,god knows where he went because he's actually MIA, and barefoot, for that matter-"
Daphne Greengrass had been talking for several minutes without taking a single breath in a way Pansy didn't know was humanly possible. In fact, her best friend could go on and on and on and on about seemingly nothing in a way that would cause weaker women than Pansy to melt into a puddle at the sheer sound of it, but what are best friends good for if not grinning and bearing through a nineteen year-old socialite's version of The NeverEnding Story? However, after what seemed like years the blonde's convoluted storytelling, Pansy found herself drifting away, her level of interest diminishing with each passing and, like.
"-so at this point we were like, skinny dipping? Why not-"
"God, Daph, I stopped caring so long ago-"
"You will care - give it a second, I promise - fuck, where was I? Right, so we're in Athens now, everyone's feeling totally fucked over by that German guy I mentioned before -"
Pansy allowed her mind to wander, after all paying attention was just a technicality for Daphne's stories and she would continue talking even if Pansy picked up a crossword puzzle and was completely dead behind the eyes. It wasn't as if she didn't care about her Christmas break, usually she would eat up any gossip about a ski vacation involving a high stakes ménage à trois between the Carrow twins and Vincent Crabbe but Pansy couldn't keep her eyes off a man sitting two tables down from them. It wasn't as if she had caught him doing anything in particular but he looked so familiar and he had been sitting in the restaurant for as long as they have but he hadn't ordered anything and every time she looked away she could feel a pair of eyes on her, like an itching on the back of her neck.
"-obviously the second bottle of wine was a huge mistake but like, at the time it seemed pretty decent because, you know, everyone was so fed up because like, a tarantula, really? Never again, I'll say that-"
"Daph," Pansy exhaled with a tired whine. "I've lost the will to go on."
"- and that's not even the half of it - wait, it's getting really good - after we literally, like, seriously, dealt with ten minutes of the capital B, capital S, he goes-"
Pansy rolled her eyes and sipped from her glass of her martini glass, which was shit, by the way, but she never expected much from Scottish gin. Daphne was already through her third glass which partly explained her incessant need to monologue her to death, but Pansy dealt with it because the younger girl was so excitable and it was endearing and cute, especially considering her relatively new status in London. The young heiress had been a pathetic little Bath girl just ten short months ago and while Pansy had been known her since they were children, they certainly weren't as close as they are now. She was only three years older than her, but she has been living in the city since she was a girl, meaning she has proper seniority over the blonde and felt a sense of responsibility to make sure she doesn't get lost on the subway or accidentally have sex with a less than reputable prick.
"-by the time we flew to Moscow - oh, by the the way, that guy has totally been following us - I was pretty done with the whole-"
"What?" Pansy made an inhuman sound.
"That guy?" Daphne stared at her with wide eyes and blinked twice before continuing, "the one you've been staring at for like, twenty minutes? Yeah, he was at the shops as well- and the cafe before, too. Did you shag him, or something?"
Pansy opened her mouth to ask why the fuck she didn't mention it before but the ludicrousness of Daphne's question caught her by surprise and she could only roll her eyes.
"No, I didn't shag him, you idiot. How do you know he's following us?"
"Either that or he casually has the same errands as we do-"
Pansy snorted. She doesn't do errands.
"- but him being at the same places as us at the same time as us?" Daphne leaned forward and raising an eyebrow. "Proper sus, Pans."
"Right," she answered with an drawn-out sigh. That's exactly what she needed, a stalker to add to the small crowd of paparazzi following her around every Friday and Saturday night. She did well in the attention, obviously it was good for business, whatever business being a socialite was, but the 24-hour nature of the job did drain on her.
"I'll text the coppers-"
"Police don't text, Daphne," she snapped but Daphne returned with an unexpected glare.
"My father has a connection in the force, Pansy. I know you can't text 999, but I'll get some Sergeants' number directly."
Pansy sighed and gave her younger friend a small smile because she really was an amazing mentor even if she gave her a difficult time.
"Daddy was talking about me getting a security guard after-"
"That's such a good idea-"
"God, I hate this place."
A familiar arrogantly posh drawl reached her ears and Pansy's head snapped upward, her eyes landing on a bored looking blond's expensive yet pompous Ray Bans, a cigarette dangling from his thin lips. She gave Draco Malfoy a pointed look from behind her own large sunglasses.
"No one said you have to stay - and especially not with the damn attitude."
"I'm definitely not staying. I've been sent to retrieve you two."
"We're not some abandoned handbag you can just-"
Draco ignored her and signalled for the overwhelmed waitress impatiently. Placing one hand against the barrier that divided the street and the outdoor seating of The Tramshed, Draco leaned forward and nabbed one of the olives destined for her martini straight off the rim of the glass.
"Back the fuck up, Galadriel," Pansy said dryly, taking a sip from her violated glass.
"Thanks," he replied with a falsely bright voice just as the waitress arrived.
"So sorry for the wait, Miss, what can I-"
"You do realize boozy brunch only counts if it's before noon?" he interrupted her with a smirk, that annoying smirk that he always gave her when he wanted to be clever, and blew a thin line of smoke into her direction. Pansy rolled her eyes, downed her drink and whipped her credit card for the waitress in seemingly one smooth motion, which would have been perfectly accented with a snarky retort had Draco not beat her to the punch and interrupted her in that annoying way he always did when he wanted to be a prick.
"I do expect you to class it up a bit today. I already saw enough pictures of last night to know that-"
"We're not having boozy brunch, we're day-drinking," Pansy retorted, albeit later than she wanted to, and gestured at the glasses in front of him. "Do you see any mimosas here? Of course not, just appropriate lunchtime martinis and whether or not this is my third glass is irrelevant."
Daphne visibly pursed her lips, diverting her eyes away from the couple. They bickered as if they were still dating, but even their short-lived secondary school romance wasn't enough to explain the constant squabbling between the two. Daphne claimed Pansy enjoyed a sparring partner. Pansy insisted she'd enjoy Draco's head in a toilet far more.
"We're in our usual room-"
"Of course you fucking are-"
"- and if you're not there in less than fifteen we'll tell them not to let you in-"
"I dare you to-"
"Now, move your arse - the boys are waiting and I've got an essay do tomorrow so I'd prefer if you didn't waste my time."
He flicked away his dead cigarette and turned on his heels to stalk away, Pansy's reply coming a second too late.
"Prick!" she shouted at his well-dressed back, only the best his Lord of a father could buy. The Malfoys were proper nobles, which explained Draco's overbearing sense of superiority but also why his public record was spotless - old money can buy amazing PR. And Lord Speaker Earl Lucius Malfoy and Countess Narcissa Malfoy obviously had some sort of theme going on - Pansy couldn't imagine either of them raising a Brad or a Sarah. No, Draco's unique name fit his 'I'm entirely too good for this interaction' attitude.
Regardless, Pansy occasionally liked having him around.
"Do you know where they are?" Daphne finally piped up - Draco made the poor girl nervous.
"Where they always fucking are. We're going to Camden Town, because my inconvenience is their greatest joy, " she replied in a bored voice, snatching her credit card back from the waitress that approached their table once more. As they stood and collected their bags, Pansy's eyes fell on the man two tables away again, just as he raised his hand and gave the universal gesture for check, please? Pansy glowered. "And Daph - call your dad's police friend. I'm annoyed and tired and done."
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Inspired greatly by Provocative_Envy's Greenwich Mean Time! Everything she writes is gold and nothing I write will ever compare, but life is about creativity and expressing yourself, right? Or like, should I stop writing for forever? I mean, I worked really hard on this so please don't tell me to stop writing for forever, but also please give me constructive criticism to make me better.
Also, we're obviously diverging drastically from canon, but our characters are more or less the same! Everyone's nonmagical parallel should be explained rather well but let me know if the transition didn't go over as clearly as I thought it did!
Before this I posted a Lucius x Narcissa one-shot, but other than this this is my first and I really am desperate for any constructive criticism. I /know/ my biggest problem is run-on sentences and I'll try to get better about that as we move forward!
Sneak peak for next time:
"- and I need some good press. Now put your fuckin' big boy pants on and get on the fuckin' case, Potter."
Harry James Potter, the New Scotland Yard poster child who pointed out his parents' killer in a line up when he was six and thwarted an train bomber just three weeks into his police training and dated one of the up-and-coming female footballer of the last decade, had sunk down to the point of playing bodyguard for a socialite.