InsaneJournal

Upon arriving at this strange place, Pansy had nearly instantly gone to her assigned lodging. She was in shock. Her instinct was to curl up in a ball... hoping that she would wake to find it was a nightmare. She had woke... and the nightmare was the dreary flat that was not at all in her style. Packing up the Weasley's belongings and putting them in her room, buying new things... it had all given her something to put her mind to. By the time she was done, she had someplace to call home that at lived up to her standards. It was not enough. At heart, Pansy was a social animal. She found herself curled up by her window, glued to the journal Skeeter had given her. She was talking to a child for Salazar's sake... just to be talking to someone. She would talk to anyone. It helped

By Monday, Pansy had had enough of being cooped up in her flat. She had written in her journal about checking out the bar she was supposed to work at. Work... it was a dirty word so far as Pansy was concerned. Pansy flipped through her new wardrobe, wondering if it was a jeans and blouse or cute little dress kind of place. Pansy was more a cute little dress kind of girl, so she pulled a pretty soft dress and a killer pair of heels out of her wardrobe and took her time getting dolled up. Right now, it was these little things that kept her sane. Besides, she had no idea who she'd run into. Pansy hoped to see Theo there, might run into Draco and couldn't imagine him seeing her looking anything less than her best. Beyond that... well there didn't seem to be any limit to who could be here.

That thought intrigued Pansy as she arranged her glossy dark hair into waves. The potential of this place was starting to sink in. Such fixed points as time, life, and even death seemed suddenly irrelevant. Who would have thought that Rita Skeeter was so powerful. Pansy shuddered slightly and wondered at her plan at not working until absolutely forced. Perhaps any witch who could accomplish this should not be crossed... Her face was carefully made up, delicate fingers fluffed the light ruffles at her shoulders. Pansy had left a black cashmere wrap on a new stand by the door and she grabbed it as well as her clutch, wrapping it around her shoulders as she headed down the short street that led to the High Street... what was it called again, oh yes, Brooms Street. I really must learn all of this, Pansy thought to herself as she gazed into the windows she passed, attempting to commit the names of each shop to memory.

Brews & Bottoms. Pansy walked through the door and found herself in your average pub. She was overdressed. It was a feeling she enjoyed, and it gave Pansy the confidence to walk into the room with her head high and an easy smile gracing her lips. There was room at the bar, but Pansy passed it by. Shopping with her mother and her friends at The Leaky Cauldron was like yesterday... the polished women chattering like plumed birds about how vulgar and desperate and alone the women sitting at the bar looked. All those things save the first fit Pansy just now, but she would be damned if she showed it. A booth was tempting, but she did not want to look like she wanted to be alone either. Pansy's eyes roamed the room and settled on a small high-top table close enough to the front to look like she might be waiting for someone but far enough back that she could just be having a drink alone. It was tiring sometimes... giving everything that much thought. Getting up on the high chair was not easy for one of her diminutive stature, but she managed it gracefully, crossing her legs and hooking a high heel in the rungs of her chair.

Pansy had no need of the drink menu. Martini, dry and dirty with extra olives... and she prayed they made a good one because she planed on having far more than one.