"Draco-"
"Later, Pansy." He brushes her away with a few brusque words, an irritated gesture. She lowers her eyes to the floors, a silent acknowledgement, and walks away, like she has a million times.
Because who cares? No one. Not. One. Single. Person.
She tries so hard. Too hard, even, but what does it matter, in the end? She speaks with a harsh tongue, sings with a soft smile, but no one hears, because no one cares to listen. Her eyes spark lightly when she sees him, but no one ever sees, because no one ever cares to look. She can never look anyone in the eyes, not with true conviction, because she is a disgrace.
All she ever does is insult those she is jealous of, because she can't memorise a million books like Hermione Granger, can't lead like Harry Potter, can't laugh in the face of anything like Ron Weasley, can't love like Ginny Weasely, can't escape like Luna Lovegood.
So many things she can't do; so many people she can't be. So many forgotten wishes; so many broken promises.
No one's face lights up when they see her - no easy smiles spring to their faces, no hearts miss a beat. Maybe a crinkle of disgust. Maybe a quick nudge to the person stood next to them before they run off together. Maybe a glance to the floor.
No one cares, because no one bothers to look beyond the rock-hard exterior she's worked so hard to build around herself. No one bothers to listen to the songs of regret her eyes sing, whenever she sees Hermione's face crumble, just for a millisecond, after being called Mudblood, so snidely, by Pansy herself.
Every time she opens her mouth, the words I wish I was you get caught in her throat, pushed back by the insults that slip out, smooth as honey, hard as stone.
All she's ever wanted is to be loved. To be wanted. To be... liked.
She extended a hand to him, let him in. Tried so hard. Too hard, even.
But what did it matter, in the end?
Because every time she opened her mouth to speak, to be heard, she's pushed away by the one she can't help but admire.
She doesn't love him for his cruelty. She doesn't love him for his looks. She doesn't love him for his brains.
She loves him because he simply doesn't care. Anything, everything - he just brushes it off.
Brushes her off.
He simple doesn't care... about her.
Why should anyone?
Tough love, Pansy Parkinson, tough love.