Word Count: 1600
Pansy feels the faintest smile tug on her lips when the news reaches the pub. Harry Potter is dead; the Dark Lord is victorious. She's tempted to turn to the Hufflepuff boy beside her and gloat. She had picked the right side. If they had listened to her and grabbed Potter when they'd had a chance, they could have skipped this whole miserable battle and been done with. Still, something tells her that this isn't the right atmosphere. Pansy puts her vanity aside.
Astoria slips through the door, pale cheeks flushed red and eyes damp with tears. What makes matters most troubling, is the fact that she is completely alone. Pansy's heart sinks at the realization.
Pansy drops from her stool and hurries over, wrapping an arm around her friend. "Where is she?" she asks. "Where's Daphne?"
Astoria sniffles and wipes her green eyes with the back of her hand. "She was caught," she says.
Pansy feels her insides twist into painful knots. This is exactly why she hadn't wanted her girlfriend to get caught up in this stupid rebellion. She had begged and pleaded for Daphne to just lie low and stay neutral; Daphne had refused time and time again.
"The Carrows have her," Astoria says quietly. "I'm sure she's in the dungeons. The way they were talking about it… She's meant to be executed for treason."
…
Getting into the castle is easy enough. Now that the Death Eaters have control, no one dares to stop Pansy. She holds her head high and shows them that she belongs here, that she deserves their respect. No one questions her; they just nod politely as she passes them by.
Her luck lasts until she reaches the dungeons. "Parkinson?" Alecto Carrow calls, moving closer with narrowed eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Pansy takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she is powerful. Alecto Carrow may be older, but she has no control over Pansy. The younger witch smooths out the creases in her black robes. "I wanted to see if it was true about Greengrass," she says, putting as much venom into the surname as possible. She hates herself for it, but Alecto seems to be pleasantly surprised. "Always suspected she was a bit soft."
"As much as I admire your initiative, you aren't authorized to be among the prisoners."
"So, authorize me. Go out and get some tea, and I will just happen to waltz inside by mistake, have a brief conversation, and be on my merry way."
Alecto scowls, but she can't seem to find an argument. "On your own head be it." And with that, she stalks down the corridor.
Pansy swallows dryly, hesitating. The girl she loves more than anything in the world is in there. But what can she do? By now, she can imagine word has traveled and that all of the United Kingdom know Daphne has been labeled the worst sort of traitor. Smuggling her out doesn't seem like an option.
With a deep, trembling breath, she pushes the door open, and her heart breaks immediately. She knows that war is ugly, but this is something else entirely. Bruised and broken bodies are caged and chained. Some still scream out, but the rest are unnervingly silent. Pansy wonders if they're dead, or if they've simply lost the fight in them.
She shakes her head. This isn't the time to get distracted. She's never cared for any of these people before; why should she start now? Still, there's something painful about recognizing so many familiar faces. McGonagall, Susan Bones, Percy Weasley, and so many others have been reduced to husks of their old selves.
She keeps her head held high. They're just people, and all of them are beneath her. She doesn't care what happens to any of them, except for Daphne.
Her search becomes more urgent. Every dark curl fills her with hope, but it's taken away immediately. Not here. Not there. Nowhere.
Pansy is more than a little ready to leave when she hears a soft, familiar voice to her left. "Pansy? Is it really you?"
She follows the voice until she finds herself face to face with her girlfriend. In that moment, Pansy doesn't care ridiculous it is; she wants to break Daphne out. Though the war has been declared won only a few hours ago, the Death Eaters have wasted no time in torturing the prisoners. Bruises and scratches mark Daphne's pale skin, and dark circles have already formed under her eyes.
"It's me, Daph," Pansy says, her voice barely above a quivering whisper.
"You shouldn't be here," Daphne says, but she still reaches out a slender hand for Pansy to take.
"Neither should you," Pansy counters, brushing her thumb over her girlfriend's bony knuckles. "I'm breaking you out."
She knows it's a daft, impossible dream, but it's all she can think as she sees Daphne in chains. Daphne deserves so much better than this life, and Pansy will make sure she gets it.
Daphne's fingers curl gently around Pansy's wrists. "No," she says. "Baby, no. I'm not afraid to die for what I believe in."
Pansy feels the tears sting her eyes. Her free hand brushes through her black hair as she tries to contain herself. It isn't easy. Hearing Daphne speak about the future and her death with absolute certainty is enough to break Pansy's heart.
"I don't want you to die," Pansy says.
"I don't want to die, either," Daphne assures her. "But if I die, I will be a martyr. They will remember me because I was proof that blood purity means nothing in the end. Other Slytherins will realize that they are not safe, and they will rally behind me and do the right thing."
"How can you be so sure?"
Daphne smiles at that. "I have to believe in the good in everyone," she answers. "You, of all people, should know that."
"I wish you would come with me."
"I know, and I'm not sorry."
Pansy doesn't want to leave, but she knows she doesn't have a choice. Daphne has made up her mind, and it's clear that there's no changing it. Heart breaking, Pansy leans in and presses one last kiss to Daphne's lips. She wishes she could make this moment last a lifetime, but time is of the essence, and she knows she cannot stay.
"I love you," Pansy says.
Daphne green eyes brighten for a fraction of a second at that. "I love you too."
…
"Surprised to see you here," Astoria notes coldly the next morning when Pansy reaches the execution area.
"I tried to protect her," Pansy says. "I had hoped she would come with me."
"You should have known better."
Pansy sighs heavily. Maybe she should have. Daphne and Astoria have always been so different from the rest of their Housemates with little time and patience for the blood purity rhetoric. She's always seen the way Daphne would be so good and kind to Purebloods and Muggleborns alike. Though she could never quite understand, she had always found it to be cute little quirk.
The first set of prisoners are lead to the front. Pansy recognizes Neville Longbottom among the broken and battered mass of bodies. Daphne isn't there yet, and she doesn't know whether to cry or find the briefest bit of relief in that. Their names and crimes are read aloud, and then the Killing Curses fill the air with green light.
This happens again and again. The fifth lot makes Pansy cry out. Astoria holds her hand. "Shh," the younger whispers. "And whatever you do, don't look away."
Pansy doesn't like that advice. She had wanted to be present, but actually having to witness her girlfriend's death feels like too much.
Daphne looks like a goddess up there, fierce and otherworldly despite the bruises and abrasions that paint her body. She keeps her head held high, and she doesn't flinch whenever her name is read.
Pansy can see the sudden change in the air when Daphne's name is spoken. Executing a Slytherin from a good, noble doesn't seem to sit well with many in attendance. The crowd ripples with movement and whispers.
Up front, they don't seem to notice the unease. The air turns green, and Pansy's blood runs cold as Daphne's petite body falls to the ground.
Pansy turns to Astoria, tears falling freely. She doesn't understand how Astoria can hide her pain and look so calm after what they've just seen. It's clear that the younger witch has more discipline that Pansy could ever hope for.
"Her death doesn't have to be in vain," Astoria says, wiping away a tear. Pansy can see her weakness threatening to break through, but Astoria carries herself with the same stubborn grace Daphne always had.
"I can't…"
"Yes, you can."
Pansy looks up. They've already cleared Daphne's body away, and some other poor soul has taken her place. The image will forever be burned into her a memory.
A flash of green. Daphne falls.
She turns her attention back to Astoria. "Fine," she says. "I want in. It's what Daphne would have wanted."
With a faint smile, Astoria links her arm with Pansy's. "Congratulations, Pansy," she chuckles. "You're a criminal."
Pansy swallows dryly. The idea of rebelling and directly defying everything her parents have taught her is terrifying. Somehow, she will find the courage for it.
Astoria leads her through the crowd, Pansy can't help but smile. These are baby steps, just tiny little changes, but she knows Daphne would be proud of her for trying.