She remained sat against the back wall, her eyes drifting over everyone; the lost, the still living. Her heart was heavy, aching at the end when it should have been lightened. Her chocolate eyes fell, staring intently at her fingers as they wrung round each other. Her feet were crossed at the ankles, bobbing up and down out of agitation. Her buttocks and the backs of her thighs were cold, from sitting on the stone floor for so long in a skirt of all things. Her back was equally as cold, even if it did have more covering it than her legs, but she just couldn't bring herself to care. She didn't want to care anymore; yet she did. She cared so much it made the need to cry so bad, it couldn't actually happen. She knew better than anyone, that if she broke down then, she wouldn't have been able to stop.

Harry came to a stop at her feet and looked down at her with worry in his green eyes. She simply shuck her head at him. No, she wasn't OK, and no, she didn't want him to sit with her to try and comfort her. She could hear people crying; holding on to each other for support and sobbing their hearts out. She didn't want to be a part of that. She lifted her hand, and Harry took it, easily pulling up her malnourished frame. She simply kissed him on the cheek, patted his shoulder, and walked out of the crowded great hall. She didn't have a destination, she just walked. She let the stairs take her wherever they wanted to go, and she found herself on the 7th floor, looking at the back of a young blonde haired woman. She had been trying to get away from people, not find them.

The girl turned, and Hermione's eyes widened in shock as she gripped her wand. The blonde's eyes were just as wide as she herself gripped her wand. They both looked exhausted, grubby, underfed and scared, yet neither made the move to start a fight. Eventually Hermione put her wand back in her pocket and moved to stand by her side.

"You didn't fight alongside your parents," She stated, knowing that the girl's parents had fled the moment Voldermort fell.

"I didn't believe in what they were fighting for anymore," The blonde says with a sigh as she placed her wand in her robe.

"It wasn't easy though was it...?"

"No," The girl whispers as she looks over the edge of the staircase. From where they were stood, the shaft went all the way down, unhindered by the crisscross of stairs. "I couldn't fight on the side of that monster; of those monsters."

"Pansy...?" Hermione whispered. She didn't understand how the girl had been strong enough to stand up against her parents. She knew if it were her parents, she wouldn't have been able to make the same decision.

"I have no future now. I gave it all up, and for what? What do I have to show for being a blood traitor?"

"Why did you do it if you regret it?" Hermione's voice had hardened. She didn't like where this conversation was going. If pansy regretted it, then that meant she thought she had made the wrong decision. She had chosen the wrong side.

"I fell for a Mudblood," The girl's throat catches on the word and her eyes water up. Hermione's mind, for all its intellectual retorts, simply blanked. "Just as stupid, all things considered, it won't ever see the light of day." She chewed on her bottom lip and continued to look down. "I wonder if you'd feel it." She whispered, making Hermione's eyes widen again.

"Feel what?"

"The bottom, if you jumped from here? Do you think you'd feel it? Or do you think it would kill you outright?"

"Why would you even ask that? We've just won the war. We won, why would you even consider doing something so selfish?" The brunette was appalled, and disgusted at the idea of going splat.

"It would only be selfish if there was somebody around to miss me. There isn't. I have nothing. No money, no place to live, no family, no job prospects." She leant forward ever so slightly, just to find Hermione's arms wrapped around her from behind.

"Welcome to my world," The brunette whispered into the blonde's back. Pansy had flinched, and remained completely ridged in Hermione's arms.

"You're one of the fucking golden trio; one leg of the fucking tripod. How bad could it possibly be for you?"

"My parents were murdered in front of me by Bellatrix..." Hermione whispered. Pansy felt her heart clench in her chest. She had hated her parents for everything they had ever done for her, but Hermione loved hers. The thought of loosing real parents made her stomach churn and her heart ache in sympathy. Hermione continues though, and with each word Pansy feels heavier and heavier inside.

"I've been tortured, seen my friends tortured, seen so many people drop like flies... All I have left is my friends. Just like you. The other two legs of your tripod are in the great hall. Malfoy is practically stuck to his mum's chest, and Blaise is sat in a corner brooding away to his self." Hermione slowly released her hold on the blonde and watched her turn around. Pansy was a little bit taller than the brunette; maybe an inch or so. It made a difference though. Hermione had to look up ever so slightly.

They weren't what one would call friends, by any stretch of the imagination. But they had been civil towards each other in their 6th year. They had often studied at the same table in the library, even if it was in silence. Pansy found it easier to concentrate at Hermione's table, at least for the first few months, because she never tried to talk drivel at her.

She couldn't help it. She hadn't asked for it. She wouldn't have wished it upon herself. She had been happy before. It was all Hermione's fault.

"I hate you," She whispered, making the brunette step back slightly.

"I..." Hermione couldn't say anything to that. She had tried to be friendly, even though the blonde had never given her reason to. "That's your prerogative. I don't hate you. I don't think I ever have, but that really doesn't matter does it?" Hermione looked into the girl's watery eyes and shrugged. "Don't do anything stupid, I would miss you... god only knows why," She grumbled and walked away. Pansy remained upright until Hermione was 3 floors below her. It was then that the blond sunk to her knees sobbing. What was the point in doing what was right, if it made her hurt like she did?