Okay, this idea kind of struck me while I was in. . . what class was it? Math? Social Studies? NO, I GOT IT! It was English! *satisfied grin* Fitting place to get a story idea, no?

So yeah, this is really random, sort of crack if you squint (?), and overall kind of sweet. Plus, we see a side of Pansy that no one has ever seen before. . . *drumroll* *clash of cymbals*

*silence*

Like I'm telling you right now. Read the story!

*audience is disappointed*

Anywho, nonspecific pairings. . . one-sided Dramione. . . perhaps Romione if you tilt your head a bit to the left or the right. . . or if you blink a lot. . . and Jealous!Pansy who likes Draco. . . yeah. Shit will go down. XD SUCH FUN!

But wait! There's more!

Disclaimer: She is not me and I am not her. I AM NOT ROWLING! I am Lulu. If I WAS Rowling, the world would have canon Next Gen. stuff. . . preferably with ScorpiusxRose. *sigh* Hey, it's the next best thing to Dramione.

Now why don't you just look down and read the story. I guarantee it'll be good! . . . I think. :/

See you in the A/N at the bottom! XD

Oh, and Pansy is bulimic.

Just thought you ought to know.

The sick splattered the seat of the toilet. The girl retched, desperate to cleanse her body of the filth she had consumed.

Too much. They'll just laugh even more. It needs to get out.

She fell to her knees, panting, staring at the disgusting mixture before her. It tasted so much better going down than it did coming up. . . She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, biting the fabric, needing the taste of something other than guilt.

It had to come up. Otherwise it would turn into fat. Then they'd have another reason to do what they do.

Pansy Parkinson flushed the toilet as she stood, still shaky from her bout of vomiting. She unlocked the stall door and stepped out, towards the mirror. She was shocked to see the twin trails of wetness that had carved paths down her cheeks. Her nose was running and she sniffled.

They're right, of course. I really AM an ugly bitch.

She pointed her wand at her face and muttered, "Scourgify."

The brief sting of the magic left her face red and tingling. At least the evidence of her sin was gone. Still, now that her eyes were clear, she could see her faults better. The mouth that was too pouty. The face that was too round and chubby. The small, squinty eyes. And the nose, the pug nose that everyone always pointed out. She was ugly. That much was a fact.

But I'm not a whore.

That was their favorite insult. All of the girls (except maybe the Hufflepuff ones, but they were sickeningly sweet) called her that. Whore, slut, tramp, hussy, hooker- all of those things, no doubt more that she hadn't heard.

Ravenclaw was at least a little discreet about it. They whispered about it from a safe distance away. The Gryffindors (idiots, all of them) sang it out for the whole world to hear!

Then there were her fellow Slytherins. They were the worst by far.

They whispered behind hands their hands, but they were stage whispers, made to be heard.

"Hey look, it's Slytherin's little slut. Oh, the shame. . . She belongs in Gryffindor with all of the other whores."

"God, what a bitch. Look at her, trying to be all cool and collected. What a faker!"

"She's hanging off of Blaise Zabini now, huh? Tramp, he'd never go for her in a million years."

"She'd do well with Vincent Crabbe, he's more her speed. After all, they're both trolls!"

"A guy would have to be real desperate to go with a hussy like her. Fail hooker! Is there anything more shameful?"

And the laughter, always the laughter. It followed her everywhere she went. Sometimes, she wasn't even sure if it was real or just a figment of her imagination.

Daphne Greengrass was the worst. Pretty, elegant, suave Daphne. Blonde and curvy and tall and perfect. She'd smirk at Pansy, then turn away without saying a word, as though she was too far above the girl to even acknowledge her with an insult. When they did speak, Daphne was polite and cordial, bordering on friendly.

She was the real faker there.

Not that it matters, anyway, Pansy reassured herself. She'll never have Draco.

Draco, Pansy's one true love. The only person she would ever give herself to, if he gave her the chance. Daphne had pursued him once, but he wasn't interested. Pansy couldn't pretend that she hadn't fantasized about him waiting for her, but reality had given her a cold, hard slap in the face in the form of Hermione Granger.

And that was the worst part of all. Draco, for all of his pureblood mania, was harboring a crush on a Gryffindor Mudblood.

It wasn't like she could have deluded herself into thinking that he liked her for very long. But still, Granger of all people?

Well, it's not like she isn't pretty, Pansy thought hopelessly. She is. Her hair has gotten nicer, and she has better teeth now, and she's taller and curvier, but still thin and delicate. I bet there are other people who like her. It's not just Draco.

That was what had convinced Pansy of her own worthlessness. A Mudblood was better than her in her beloved Draco's eyes. There was nothing worse than that.

Then "worse" walked in through the bathroom door.

"Hello? Is anybody in- Parkinson?!"

Pansy gaped at the figure in the doorway. "Granger?!"

Just let me die now.

"What are you doing in here, Parkinson?"

"I could ask the same of you."

Don't notice, don't notice. . .

"Hey, what's that on your face?"

Damn. So there really isn't a god for witches.

Pansy wiped her face with her sleeve, discovering yet more tears. "It's nothing," she mumbled gruffly.

"Are you sure?" Granger asked, her voice laced with concern.

"I'm FINE!" Pansy screeched. "Get the hell out of here, you filthy little Mudblood!"

Granger froze. Her features hardened into a mask of no emotion.

"Fine," she replied coolly. "See if I care next time you collapse on the ground, crying your eyes out, Parkinson."

She was going to leave. Granger, with her prettier hair and teeth and features and figure. Granger, who didn't even know that Pansy's love had his eyes on her. Granger, who would always be a Mudblood, no matter what she did.

"How do you deal with it?" Pansy asked breathily.

Granger turned around in confusion. "What did you say?"

Pansy took a deep breath and looked up into chocolate eyes. "How do you deal with it?"

"With what?"

"Us. Slytherins insulting you for your bloodline. How do you manage to stay strong?"

Granger raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

Pansy shifted on the floor. "I know what people call me. I'm ugly, sure. I'm fat. I have a pug face. I know all of that. But I'm not a slut, or a whore, or a tramp, or anything else they call me." The Slytherin looked up, her own tear-filled dark eyes boring into the Gryffindor's slightly lighter ones. "And you, you're pretty and smart and talented. Boys like you. Hell, even Draco has a crush on you now!" Granger gasped, but Pansy was on a roll. "You're all of those things, even after how mean my entire house has been to you. You've kept living. How do I manage to keep living? How do I stay strong like you do?"

Granger stared at the Slytherin who had just opened up to her. Then, slowly, she crouched down to the floor.

"Pansy," she whispered, "you are none of those things. You are not ugly, or fat, or a tramp. You may have a bit of a pug face, but everyone is unique. Why should their opinions matter? You know far better than they ever will." She smiled a little. "I won't deny that for a while, I considered suicide. I felt alone and helpless. I felt like you guys were right about me. But I know better now. I know that I'm Muggleborn, but my blood runs as pure and red as any pureblood Slytherin's does. Being Muggleborn does not make me an inferior creature. I know that. As long as I know that, nothing you say can have a lasting effect on me. Besides that, I have. . . friends, like Harry and Ron, who are always on my side. I can never give up because I know that at least one of those two idiots is always going to be there to pick me up if I fall. Why give him more work? I just try my best not to fall in the first place. That's how I stay strong."

Granger stood up and looked down at the crumpled, broken, hurting girl before her.

"Parkinson, if you want to be strong, you need to stop taking the easy way out. Face things head on. Sometimes, the easy way out only leads you further into the trap." She laughed a little. "I know snakes like to take the least dangerous road, and maybe right now death seems to be that path, but your sense of self-preservation is strong. When there's no way out, even a snake will choose fighting over giving up or dying. So fight, fang and scale, to be respected."

She turned to leave.

Just before she left the bathroom, Pansy spoke.

"I'm bulimic."

Granger nodded. "I thought you might be. But honestly, Parkinson, have you looked at yourself recently? You've got a killer figure, great posture, good height, and fantastic hair that I could only dream of having. Don't sell yourself short. You don't need to get rid of all of the food you consume. You'll just make yourself sick. Just stay healthy."

She started to leave once more, but Pansy had one more thing to say.

"Thanks. . . Hermione."

Granger paused for a moment, then turned a little to face the Slytherin. She smiled.

"Anytime, Pansy."

Granger left, leaving Pansy to think things over for herself.

. . . It's okay. I thought it would turn out better, though. . . *sigh*

Oh well. You can't always get what you want. . . Besides, I still liked it.

SO! RFF! I like knowing if people like this stuff or not! So please tell me!

The word of the day is MELLIFLUOUS! Like the buttery voice of the guy who does Honest Trailers! *happy grin* Love those things.

Anywho, TOODLE-DOO! (Hehehe. . . sorry. Couldn't help myself. RHYME! XD)

Love ya! lulu