A/N:

Hey, guys! This is an idea I had, not really sure how it's going to work. Rated for Language and implied sexual content. I have the next couple of chapters written, and it's not really going anywhere. It's pretty angsty. Happy reading! Please review!

-Lady of the Green Kirtle

Song Selection: Dark Side (Kelly Clarkson)

Pansy is sick of pity. At her trial, she stands there, alone in the courtroom, as the Minister and a bunch of Weasleys decide if she's guilty. They glare at her, a clan of hostile carrots, while she tries not to cry. She sticks her chin up into the air and stares them down. Hermione Granger, still a know it all, still frizzy haired, still a mudblood, stands up and makes a whole speech about Pansy's "blood prejudice" and her "father's affiliations" and her "relationship with known Death Eater, Draco Malfoy" and the whole time Pansy just has to sit there. The room is almost choking with rightousness and she wants to leave. She can't though or she'll go right to Azkaban. Never mind that she doesn't have the Mark. Never mind that she and Draco aren't in a relationship. Never mind that she doesn't even like her father. No, no, no. Pansy is a Slytherin. So she's being tried for the equivalent of murder. Finally, it's her turn to talk. She stands up and they ask her pointed questions.

"Is it true, that during the Battle of Hogwarts, you volunteered to give up Mr. Potter in exchange for your life?"

"Yes." She smiles coldly and chooses her words carefully. Aiming them like a knife, to bury carefully in someone's flesh. "He's only a half-blood anyway. What do you care?"

The dumpy red haired woman gasps and hisses at her. Actually hisses, like a cat.

Pansy smiles her sweetest smile.

"Is it true that you aided Severus Snape in the unlawful seizure of the School of Hogwarts?"

"Of course." Pansy raises an eyebrow. "When the other option was Professor McGonagall, known supporter of that doddering fool Dumbledore, it wasn't really a difficult choice."

"Dumbledore was noble!" growls Hermione, glowering at the slender, blonde, Slytherin Princess.

"Oh yes. Of course he was." Pansy sneers. "Showing blatant favoritism between students, sending children out to fight a war against their own parents, forcing some self sacrificing idiot like Potter to be his absurd little figurehead!"

Her words ring out in the silent hall and all the Weasleys look at her in shock.

She snaps.

"Send me to Azkaban, I don't care! Send me to Azkaban for refusing to attack my own mother, my childhood friend, the Dark Lord himself! Send me to Azkaban for being a bully! I'm sure you can make up a special law, just for me, about putting innocent people with bad families in prison! Go ahead," she hisses, "Be NOBLE." The last word is almost a shout, something that she'd thought was drilled out of her a long long time ago. She's shocked at herself. And furious. She cracked. That is not supposed to happen to the Slytherin Princess.

She's even angrier, when she catches Harry Potter looking at her, surprised at her language.

The Minister swallows hard, and, rather awkwardly announces that there are no charges against her, and she's free to leave. She smiles, a diligently bleached, deliberately bland, cold little pureblood princess smile. She can practically hear the opinions of the Weasleys shriveling.

Harry Potter is still staring at her.

Pansy walks out of the courtroom, heels clicking, blonde hair still in an immaculate updo. No one sees how defeated she is.

She isn't just stupid.

She isn't just pretty.

She isn't just selfish.

Pansy's mother always said that that's what men like. It's what Draco liked.

Is that all she'll ever be?