Pansy Parkinson was a simple girl with even simpler tastes. She liked her privacy and her quiet time, particularly away from Draco's constant whining. She liked music, art, and her special set of romantic fiction novels she had stashed under her bed. She liked her tea with one cream and two sugars. She liked school well enough, and in all her classes she was doing well. She would never deny that she enjoyed any of this, but the one thing she denied herself, the one thing that could bring her true happiness was taken from her in an instant, and she could never get it back.
Pansy brusquely walked up the stone stairs towards the Gryffindor Tower entrance. In her arms were clasped several books and loose leaf parchment. She had spent most of the night planning this and perfecting it and now she was going to deliver the gift to its intended recipient. She smiled to herself when she thought of the girl whom for so many years she tormented, and yet in so few months she had come to love, though this revelation only came recently and after several agonizing attempts to deny said claim; she must've gone out with half the guys in Slytherin and Ravenclaw trying to get Hermione Granger out of her blasted head. All was in vain.
She had drawn a picture for Hermione: one she had been requesting for months. It was a simple picture, adhering to Pansy's usual style of work. A quaint little drawing in black charcoal of Hermione and her smiling at each other. Pansy thought it was some of her best work, but was a little nervous to get Hermione's opinion.
She had come up to the Gryffindor portrait and said the blasted password, 'tripudio monachus'; Gryffindors could be so immature. The portrait swung open for her and she was met with a most interesting sight. The common room was completely empty except for Weasley and Potter who were sitting on the couch, Weasley with his head in his hands and Potter throwing a letter into the roaring fireplace. They both looked up as she answered.
"Parkinson. We'd wondered when you'd show up." Pansy didn't like the tone of his voice. It wasn't mocking, nor the malice she'd come to expect from the Boy-Who-Lived. It was almost sad, and it confused her greatly.
"Something's wrong," she stated dubiously, though more to herself than to the others.
"There is no easy way to tell you this. You might want to sit down."
"No, I came to give Hermione something, can you go get her?" Potter shook his head sadly, and Weasley shook his head in pitying manner.
"Hermione is dead, Pansy." Pansy's eyes widened, and she shook her head violently.
"No! You lie! I just spoke with her yesterday!" She looked around the common room, waiting for what, she didn't know. Maybe for Hermione to jump out and say this was all a cruel, cruel joke. Whatever it was that Pansy was waiting for, it never came.
"Hermione went home last night after hearing her family's home had been attacked by Death Eaters." Tears fell from Potter's eyes, but they meant nothing to Pansy. Hermione wasn't dead. "It was a trap."
"No!" Pansy screamed again. "She's not dead, you're lying! Hermione wouldn't leave me!" She realized she was being undignified, yelling and crying in the Gryffindor common room of all places, but she didn't care. "I was going to give her this," she said chokingly, holding up the picture of her and Hermione so the boys could see. Their empathetic eyes made her want to strangle them, or vomit. "I was…going to tell her I love her." Tears were streaming down her face now, and her speech was almost inaudible, but both Potter and Weasley understood the latter part of her rant.
She ran from the common room, from Potter and Weasley, from their lies and pity. Her Hermione was dead, her soul was shattered. How does one go on? Can one feel complete again after that? Can one learn to trust learn, to feel, to love again after it was ripped all away so suddenly? No. She couldn't. Pansy was a girl of simple taste, but moving on, living without Hermione was far too complicated to consider.
Well, that certainly was depressing...hmmm...next fic shall be ensconced with fluff, I promise.