4. WHO KNEW?
"I have the tendency of getting very physical,
so watch your step cause if I do you'll need a miracle."
-Harder to Breathe, Maroon 5
She looked up at Draco as her mother bowed beneath Lord Voldemort, kissing his robes as if he was some sort of God. Anger ripped through her and his eyes flashed to hers in warning.
Pansy's role was to screech and be Draco's trophy, nothing more. And she certainly couldn't have an opinion about something like the Dark Lord. No matter how ridiculous the act was of plotting to kill Harry Potter- she wasn't to voice her opinion. Though she hated him, she would never wish him dead. That would kill Hermione and she doubted she could live with herself if it happened.
In a world where Voldemort reined Hermione would be a slave, if not killed first. It was unlikely that she would be killed- she was too powerful and knew too much to be wasted. But a slave? That would be such a waste as well. How dreadful.
She would do this to save herself, Hermione, her family.
It was her turn to meet her fate and her legs were like lead. She felt all eyes on her as she stepped up to the shell of a man that made her want to cringe.
"Your loyalty is most appreciated, Miss Parkinson." Voldemort hissed and she copied her mother's actions.
"Of course, my Lord. Anything for you." Pansy whispered so only he could hear, exposing the soft, pale flesh that he sought. She vaguely remembered Hermione kissing this sensitive spot on her before.
He touched his wand to her forearm and a white-hot pain seared through her.
The feeling was like no other.
It was as though the skin was being pulled off.
She was numb. But not the usual comfortable numb. She didn't have control.
She wanted to vomit. She wanted to die.
Her skin was crawling. Her mouth was dry. She had a mixture of fire in her throat and cotton mouth.
She wanted to sleep. Sleep sounded wonderful.
She couldn't get over the tingling. The tingling was going to kill her.
The shaking.
She had never felt anything like this. She wanted to die. She wanted someone to kill her.
Hermione would never forgive her. Oh, God, what had she done?
__
Pansy had gotten the Mark.
Harry and Ron had been very eager to tell her. They hadn't been given any verbal confirmation yet but had seen Malfoy and his cronies rubbing their arms unconsciously.
Hermione had thought she would have been able to feel it when it happened, but she hadn't. It had happened right under her fucking nose. Dumbledore hadn't done anything to stop it. He had given her permission to leave the castle. He had proven yet again to be a horrible liar when he wanted to be.
She wondered if he knew about the affair and that was why he let it happen. Maybe somewhere in that messed up head of his he believed it would be for the greater good to give up on Pansy and Malfoy and everyone? Maybe Dumbledore knew when the time was right to move on to things that weren't lost causes? Was she a lost cause?
If her entire loyalty was to the side of the Light and to Harry, she would try to get all the information she could out of Pansy. However she felt no inclination in the slightest to do so. Hermione could ask when Voldemort planned to attack and who was involved and anything she wanted. But she couldn't bring herself to want to use Pansy in that way; she didn't like having that kind of power.
Hermione looked around the library; as usual looking for some sort of sign that Pansy was there, trying to find her.
A million things were running in her mind.
There was a tap on the table. Her head shot up and she felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach.
"I know what you did." Hermione told her, staring past her head at a particularly happy couple studying a few tables away.
"I knew you would soon enough. Can we talk, please?"
She got up silently and made her way through the library getting stares from everyone around them as Pansy followed behind.
Their favourite classroom was empty.
Hermione stared at Pansy. She tried to hold back the tears that threatened to betray her. She grabbed Pansy's arm roughly and pushed back the sleeve, ignoring the wince in response.
The Dark Mark stood pronounced on her beautiful pale skin and it made Hermione sick.
She remained silent.
"Talk to me. Tell me how you're feeling. Please. Something." Pansy pleaded, reaching towards her.
"I'm so tired of being so angry and desperate. It's draining. I hate having to focus all my energy on people who don't think I'm worth anything to them. But you did this." At this she took a deep breath and looked up into her eyes. "You did this, not me. I'm so angry all the time I can't take it anymore. I'm so extremely tired I feel like I'm losing my mind. I can't keep sneaking around, lying to everyone. I can't do this anymore, Pansy. You made my choice for me the second you got that Mark."
The expression on Pansy's face couldn't have been worse if you had hit her with the Cruciatus Curse. "So because I didn't want to die, I get kicked to the curb. After being second best for years, you fucking bitch, because I do what's best for me you do this?"
"Apparently." she whispered.
"Fuck you." Pansy spat, tears spilling onto her robes.
Hermione sank to the floor as Pansy walked swiftly out of the room, not looking back. All she did was watch and she felt her heart rip out of her chest.
Even though it was her fault that she let this happen, a little voice in the back of her head still blamed Dumbledore.
