Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They respectively belong to J. K. Rowling. Please don't sue me.

Warnings: There are none.

A/N: Wow, talk about blast from the past. After choosing to reacquaint myself with the Harry Potter series via the movies, I've been bitten by the Hermione/Pansy bug again and just had to get this out. You could look at this as a prequel to Sayonara-Solitia since I intend to reboot that story and turn it into a small series of oneshots. Hopefully my desire to write these two together will hold out until it's complete. Until then I hope you guys enjoy what I have in store ^_^

Final Masquerade

I'm scared.

You don't realize it then, or for a long time afterwards, but those two words turn out to be the start of everything, as well as the end of everything.

It was the night Cedric died. You remember because you'd waited until you were alone to cry. There was no way you'd let yourself break down in front of Harry when he needed you and Ron to be strong for him more than ever. But alone, in the privacy of your bed, you could mourn for the senseless loss of someone you'd considered a friend.

Only you never got the chance to be alone because shewas there waiting for you.

Pansy Parkinson.

You never knew how it was she was able to be there when you needed someone, needed her the most, but it didn't matter because she was there, and you were suddenly in her arms, crying into her shoulder even as her hands wrapped around you and tangled into your hair, pulling you closer still.

She didn't say anything, just simply held you while you purged all the fear and helplessness you'd been feeling ever since Harry's name was expelled from the Goblet of Fire.

You'd like to think that had you not been preoccupied with your own sorrow, you would have noticed how somber and so unlike herself she'd been, but you're not certain. Not when you'd been distracted by the way she carefully undressed you, silent tears still streaming from your eyes, and then herself before she ushered you into your bed, climbing in after you. She curled her body around yours, and when exhaustion finally overcame you, you succumbed without a fight.

"I'm scared."

It had been uttered so softly that your sleep addled mind wasn't certain you'd actually heard the words, or perhaps one of your dormmates had been the one to speak. You'd been about to write it off, and return to blissful sleep, but something peculiar caught your attention. It didn't take long for you to figure out what was different.

It was quiet, more than that it was still. More specifically Pansy was still. You'd been sleeping with her for nearly two years (one year, eight months; you're keeping count for the record and that's all, or so you tell yourself) so you're more than familiar with her sleeping habits. She fidgets, and clings possessively, tickles, and you have even known her to wake you on purpose when she's feeling particularly frisky, something you always chastise her about afterwards even if you never protest when it happens.

But she has never been so still, and the more you dwelled on it, you realized she's wasn't just still, but practically frozen in place. Her entire body was stiff, down to the arm wrapped around your waist, and despite her front fused to your back, you couldn't feel her chest expand and deflate with oxygen, you couldn't feel the hair on your neck flutter with each breath she took, and that's what ultimately caused you to turn over and see what's wrong.

Balanced on your elbow you brushed away the long strands of straight black hair only to see that she had her eyes clenched closed tightly to go along with the breath she was holding.

"Pansy?" You'd called softly, mindful that you weren't the only ones in the room anymore, even as confusion began to sink in. "Wha-"

"Everything has changed." She finally whispered, even though she kept her eyes closed. "The impossible has happened, and now there are obligations. Now, everything is different and I'm..."

She faltered and you thought maybe she was going to say she was scared again, but she doesn't and you could feel the anxiety from before begin to creep in again.

"I don't understand." You're worried because you've never seen her like this before, and deep down you get the feeling that whatever is causing her to act so strange has to do with all the bad things that have been happening that year and it scares you. So does the look she gives you when she finally opens her eyes. They're frantic and for a moment it seemed as if she didn't remember where she was until her wild eyes met yours. She stared at you for a moment then, her gaze desperate, pleading, but you didn't know what she wanted from you.

Then, as suddenly as the look was there, it was gone, hidden away behind her closed eyelids. When she opened them again her eyes were clear, her gaze steady as she looked at you.

"It's nothing." She finally whispered, her smile small yet disarming as she ensnared her fingers in your unruly curls. "Just a bad dream."

You wanted to press the issue because what you'd witnessed seemed much more than a bad dream. But it was dark and you yourself was still half asleep. Perhaps you were just seeing things that weren't there, so you dropped it because the alternative of you being right, and that this was only the start of terrible things to come, was far too distressing for you to handle right then.

Especially not when she pressed her lips to the soft strands of hair wrapped around her fingers reverently. She sighed as if that was all she really needed to settle the terrors that plagued her, and you couldn't help sinking into her warm embrace once again.

When you'd settled down comfortably, your arms wrapped around one another with your head tucked beneath her chin, and on the verge of falling back to sleep, she whispered to you again.

"Hermoine? From now on, no matter what happens, promise you'll never leave me?"

You were suddenly awake at that and tried to pull away to fully look at her, but she only let you get just far enough for your eyes meet, a few inches of space between you.

"Wha-?" You tried to question, wanting to know why she thought you'd ever leave her, but she only shook her head.

"Promise me." She repeated, her bright green eyes boring into what felt like your very soul and you nodded.

"I promise."

She smiled then, gentle and relieved as if she no longer had anything to worry about, and you smiled back even though there was a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach. It dissipated in a puff of smoke when she kissed you however, and you were reminded that it's been ages since you last kissed her, thanks to the tournament, and Ron, and Harry, and even Krum.

"I love you." She whispered against your lips, and every thought you'd ever had flew out of your head, because of all the things she'd ever said to you, that wasn't one of them. She laughed softly because you'd frozen in place, much like she had been, and she kissed you again.

"Merlin knows I shouldn't, but I love you Hermione Granger, more than I have any right to."

And then you were kissing her, anywhere your lips could reach. Her hair, forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks, chin. And when you finally returned to her lips, all you could think to whisper is "Say it again."

And she did, over and over again between the heated kisses you shared until the sun began to creep through the windows and you had no choice but to let her go before anyone could wake and catch her there with you.

You don't see her again until later that afternoon, just as the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are leaving. She's standing in the courtyard with Crabbe, Goyle, a girl you don't recognise, and Malfoy. She glances at you just long enough to give you a fleeting smile before wandering off into the shadows with them, and that sense of unease is back, but you don't have time to dwell on it as Ron tugs on your robes and nods towards Harry who's walking alone.

"Do you think we could ever just have a quiet year at Hogwarts?" Ron asks as you catch up to him, to which you and Harry respond with a humorous,

"No."

"Didn't think so. Ah well, what's life without a few dragons?" Ron responds, and suddenly you're brought back to the night before and Pansy's soft words.

I'm scared.

You freeze and the unease in your stomach turns to knots. When the boys notice that you're lingering behind and look at you curiously, you can't meet their eyes even as you try to keep your fear at bay.

"Everything's going to change now, isn't it?" You ask even though you already know the answer. Pansy had told you as much, hadn't she?

Still, it takes Harry walking up to you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, and telling you with the utmost certainty that yes, things are going to change, before you can breathe again.

If Harry Potter, who had seen the Dark Lord resurrected before his very eyes, is prepared to handle what happens next with his head held high, then so are you.

END