Open Your Eyes
A Pansy Parkinson one-shot fic.
…and as they all say when they begin, "It's my first story! Please be kind!"
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"Scarab beetles, Ginger roots…"
She sat pensively, a look clouded with smug. Everyone was used to her, her expressions, her way of letting people know to back off. She was okay with that, at least for the moment. Her sweet reverie could not be disturbed.
"Armadillo bile…along with an extensive amount of daisy roots…"
Would he notice her today? The mere though ridiculed her. She was dreaming again. He felt so close to her, as if she could only reach out and touch him. Touch the one who haunted her thoughts extensively.
She let out a pitiful sigh, one that escaped her as she effortlessly scribbled on parchment, writing down words that would never be.
…And as if a sentence had escaped her thoughts and plastered itself into reality, he called out to her. Well, it was more of a grunt followed by a stern look. A look to remind her that she needed to pay attention to the lesson. She flushed, nodding but shifting her eyes elsewhere.
She studied the room carefully, noting all the students in their usual areas. Crabbe and Goyle 2nd row on the left, no doubly causing trouble, two Gryffindor girls on the right who always seemed to giggle furiously, ones whom she never could remember their names, the famous Harry Potter at the back with his red-headed friend Ronald 'Weasel', Hermione Granger at the front and then Draco...
Her attention caught on Draco. He seemed to be concentrating attentively on something. She stuck her chin up, trying to skim a look. And then he leaned back slightly, his hand gripping something. They lay hidden behind his back to most, or at least from the potions professor.
"Two quarts of Gillyweed…"
She scrunched her face, eyeing what seemed to be clenched in Draco's hand. It was hard to tell until his wand flicked the enclosed palm and began to unfold. There lay a piece of parchment, carefully concealed and wrapped in a beautiful, crane-like way. The idea of Draco sending her note seemed repetitive and over-done, but she, nonetheless, could not wait to see it.
She waited. In gradual movements, the parchment circled around various student, creeping about like an intruder. She stuck her hands underneath the table, opening them wide, letting the message come to her. But it didn't. It look a turn to its left and rested itself upon the lap of her worst enemy.
Hermione Granger.
With no startle nor stir, Hermione seemed to bow her head down, studying it. She could not see the face of the brainy Gryffindor but she could make up the fact that she began reading it. With such little movement, too.
What was going on here? Her eyes fumed, never leaving Hermione's direction. Draco had to have been sending her a note of hate. It had to be, she could see it now, attacking her for her bushy hair, her passion for SPEW, her…
But it did not seem that way at all. It was in that moment something felt wrong. Hermione turned her face slightly, scanning the room with little effort until she found Draco. His focus was already on the Gryffindor. His look affectionate, hers warm and mischievous.
Something escaped her suddenly, a gasp it seemed. It was noticed and penalized.
"Ms. Pansy Parkinson, for Merlin's sake, how many times must I remind you to pay attention?"
All eyes focused on her, some pitiful, most smug, others just indifferent. She apologized.
"Now we shall begin the brewing. Try not to make a huge mess this time."
Pansy saw the professor starring at Nevielle who twitched and let out a nervous squeak. Then in unison, all the students got to work, some moving to different areas of the room buddying up with their friends, others getting ingredients, some just waking up at the sound of sudden noise.
Feeling unbelievably lost, Pansy got up from her seat. Even Draco dared not to approach her, for his interests seemed to lay elsewhere. She could not understand it. The sight of her 'boyfriend' locking looks with Hermione Granger seemed impossible. Immoral. So much for relying on the loyalty of Draco Malfoy.
The defeat only seemed to damper her for a minute. She knew Draco for a long time, but it was not him who had captured her heart. There was another and Pansy found herself standing in front of him.
"Professor Snape?"
He barely even looked at her. He grunted again, just to acknowledge the fact that he knew she was standing there. Pansy opened her mouth--but the words were lost. They felt trapped in her mouth and anything she wanted to tell Snape, stopped her. Any grace or courage she may have started with seemed to vanish and bury itself in her system.
"I--"
"…think about you all the time, my beloved. What is it about the darkness of your aurora that makes me want to reach out to you? Would it lift your spirits if I told you I adored you? That I wish you knew that I wanted to be with you always? Oh professor Snape! …Kiss me you fool!"
This voice had not been hers, yet most of the words were. With a sharp turn of her neck, Pansy scanned to see where the poem she wrote was coming from. And there stood Crabbe making kissy faces with a hysterical Goyle. A small crowed was encircling them. And there in his hands lay the diary of Pansy Parkinson. The cursive script of her name on the cover confirmed to the whole world where the words came from. And to the slow ones, Goyle let out a "Pansy loves Snape!" just to make sure everyone knew.
Frozen. That's all she remained. She could not move nor speak. Her mouth still lay open, but this time in shock. In humiliation. In fear. She envisioned herself in this moment, letting him know how she felt, but not this way. Not like this.
Her eyes closed shut as the whole room erupted in laughter and Snape's voice trying to overpower them.
"Silence! I said silence!" he demanded, but no one would stop. Some even ended up pointing at Pansy in their hysterics, but she saw nothing. Her eyes remained closed, even when someone forcefully gripped her elbow and led her out of the room.
She was far too afraid to see who it was. All Pansy could do was simply wait for any wise joke to crack. She was prepared for more pain.
"Ms. Parksinson. Open your eyes."
And she did. She expected to lock eyes with Snape. She expected him to look outraged and would yell at her silly journal, her silly mind, just her being ridiculous in general. But he did not. Something about Snape caught Pansy in surprise. Was he expressing concern for her? Even slightly? Or was it just wishful thinking that he may feel any emotion for her?
"Ms. Parkinson, you are excused to go back to your dormitory. With the recent…revelation in class this afternoon, I doubt any work will be done by the students if you are around the midst. And here. Take this."
From his robes he drew the instrument and roughly threw it into Pansy's arms. Her diary. Her thoughts. Her words. They lay exposed in the condensed air in all their vulnerability. But he remained cold. He wanted no attachment nor seal of ownership. He wanted nothing of it.
"Do you understand Pans--"
"Yes professor."
She wanted to come off as being strong, unaffected by the incident. But she was kidding no one. Nothing could control the tears that shed from her eyes. She braved to look at him. What came across his face was disappointment. As if he expected more from a Slytherin. But she was bounded by her weakness and now, everyone could use it to their advantage. Her reputation, was without a doubt, scarred.
Isolation was tempting. Her eyes suddenly felt heavy. So did reality. Her body grew exhausted and torn. She felt no logic nor strength embrace her, only the arms of her love when she prepared to collapse on the world overpowering her.
"Open your eyes, Pansy. Open your eyes."