I am going to state right now I have no ownership to Harry Potter.
With that said let me tell you right now my readers. This chapter was hard to write and is going to be harder for you to probably read. It touches on a very serious issues that I hope most of you are mature enough to deal with. If you are not and lose interest I will understand.
A girl stared forlornly at her on reflection from a lavatory mirror. Until just recently she bad been feverishly scrubbing the taste of salt from her mouth. She only stopped after catching a glimpse of her own reflection.
Eyes, just slightly too far apart to be considered beautiful gazed back. One eye was puffy and rapidly turning purple. The rest of her face had a swollen bloody appearance. Her eyes lowered and gazed at a normally flawless white neck.
Tentatively she touched dark purple bruises in the shape of cruel fingers. Already they had begun to yellow at the edges, but those bruises were minor compared to the rest of her body. Her womanhood howled in agony, at the mere memory of its past abuse. Looking up from her purple ringed throat she gazed at where her prized possession used to be.
"Why did they have to shave my hair," muttered Pansy Parkinson. "It was the only thing that was better than that mudblood."
Pansy's face crinkled in distaste as she looked at her bald head.
"I should have fought harder. Maybe they wouldn't have thought to shave my head."
"Then again," she spoke pensively. "They would probably have beaten in my teeth and not just my face and still shaved me for the trouble."
The memory of fists and feet crashing into her face and stomach made her shudder. That was the wrong thing to do as her entire body seemed to throb in response. Instantly tears sprang to the corners of her eyes.
"No! I can't cry again."
Crying was for the weak and powerless. She wasn't weak. Hardening her gaze she looked back in the mirror with defiance.
"I may have fallen, but I can get up."
To her own ears the words rung hollow. All sense of pride seemed to deflate.
"The question is, how the fuck do I get up after a fall like this?"
At her spoken thought Pansy could feel a whimper building in the back of her throat. She clutched the sink in front of her as tightly as possible. How was a person suppose to get up after a gang rape, lead by their supposed "friends"?
"Why did they do it?"
Pansy nearly jumped at the sound of her own voice. She hadn't sounded that pitiful since she had begged her father to protect her from the thunder. Even while she was disgusted with herself, Pansy already knew her answer.
"Damn you Malfoy! This was suppose to be our year! I was suppose to be your queen. We would have commanded the entire house and the you could have gotten the dark lord to give me the mark just like you. Why Draco?! Why did you have to throw me away in front of everyone?"
She trailed off pitifully, her fight to control her tears lost. Streams of hot salty tears gushed as her entire body heaved, even as she blubbered.
"I did everything you wanted! I was the perfect girlfriend. You wanted a shag then we shagged. I blew you whenever you wanted. I did everything you told me to. Why did you go to Greengrass?"
It was hard to think as she cried there in that bathroom. Her memories were swirling around in her head, so jumbled up she hardly knew right from left.
"You bastard we were going to let the first years know the peaking order together. You come up with that blonde whore of girl and you tell me to introduce the first years myswelf!?"
The feeling of hysteria was clouding her mind as she rambled on to no one.
"Both of you slinking off to some place; leaving me there standing, feeling like an idiot. You fuck!"
Pansy took in deep breaths trying to calm herself down. To keep herself from fainting from pain and exhaustion.
"I knew something wasn't right, but I still did as you told me. I told those first years their place and I ran to find you. I wish I hadn't."
Her tears were slowly stopping now. There was plenty of snot still poring from her swollen nose, but it wasn't so bad as before.
"You ungrateful demented fucker. You didn't think about me did you, Draco? You just ran off with Greengrass in hand and dropped your trousers? I can't believe you would do this to me. You threw me away in front of everyone. You didn't even give me a chance curse that bitch."
A feeling of clarity seemed to come over Pansy as she stood there weeping.
"Draco, you were waiting for me, weren't you? Even while she was sucking you off you were standing there waiting for me to come through the door. Fucker, you planned it all ahead and blasted me without even thinking."
She couldn't help letting out a breath of disappointment. Draco had never been a competent one when it came of wand work. He only beat her by being prepared.
"I don't know how you did it, but then you took everyone beneath me away too. Did they always like Daphne more than me to begin with? Did they always think I was an ugly pug faced bitch?"
A small sniffle escaped her lips as she remembered her "friends" biting words. She wanted to get back at Malfoy, but they had all flatly turned her down.
"Those cunts must have known how weak I was. They had to have known that Draco had as good as thrown me to the house dogs. They didn't want to risk getting the same."
Her grip on the sink wasn't as tight as it had been. She could feel herself growing a little more calm, her thoughts no longer felt like they were on racing brooms.
"Can't believe they did this to me. They could have at least said no. But no, every last one of you were there and you brought a few of your future husbands along for the party."
The thought of what they had considered a party threw her to a dark place she didn't want to be.
Crying for them to stop. Begging for them not to put it in there. She had threaten to bite and they had beaten it out of her. Both boys and girls hitting her everywhere they could reach. Cutting her cloths off while she screamed for mercy. Girls all around her laughing at her pain. The boys grunting in satisfaction as they threw their seed within. Roaring their approval as they spilt it on her face. They forced her mouth open and claimed her. All around her laughter. They wanted to see her broken, beating her again. She kept screaming. Why couldn't anyone hear her? Why wouldn't someone help her? They were hurting her and they wouldn't stop. They were raping her and laughed as she wailed for them to take it out. She pleaded with them. She would fuck anyone whenever they wanted, if only they would stop. They were hurting her!
Immediately Pansy raced to the nearest toilet and throwing up everything she had ever eaten or ever would. Clawing the memory away from her conscious thoughts Pansy took several steady breaths.
"At least I don't taste it anymore," she said aloud.
Getting up from where she knelt Pansy walked back to the sink and ran enough water so she could clean her mouth. Only when she finally tasted more water than bile, did she stop.
Again she looked in the mirror and knew she had best cover herself up. With her wand in hand she began the chant every pureblood daughter was taught to cover their hurts.
Slowly her purple and swollen skin became clear and pristine. While her cloths may have seemed a little worse for wear and a little haphazardly put on, she otherwise looked her normal self. Except she wasn't. Her face was a beaten mess and she was as bald as an old man.
Before she could stabilize her recently created glamour the bathroom door gave a shrieking squeal as it opened. A feeling of terror clawed itself up her throat, threatening to escape.
In an ungraceful dive Pansy hide within the nearest stall. As quietly as she could, she closed the door and drew her feet on top of the toilet. Hopefully no one would know the bathroom was already occupied. Whoever came in would do their business and leave.
Silently she mouthed a frantic prayer. "Please leave. Hurry and leave."
Her prayer was denied as an adjacent stall was opened. From where she was she could see robes slightly near where the front of the toilet must be.
The sounds of retching were clearly audible as soon as this new girl had entered the stall. Pansy's own heart beat furiously as she waited for the sounds to stop. They almost seemed to go on for an eternity before the sounds finally stopped. She was honestly surprised that the girl hadn't over filled the toilet.
When the sounds of liquid splashing finally stopped, the only thing Pansy heard was heavy labored breathing. Oddly, she could have sworn she recognized the voice. It almost sounded like that overly puffed up mudblood Granger. Her luck couldn't be so good, for it to actually be her.
Pansy was well aware of the old saying, that misery loves company. If there was one thing she was well familiar with, it was spreading her misery. There was no better target than Hermione Granger. That too pretty face deserved all the misery Pansy felt and more.
That mudblood bitch with her perfectly straight nose deserved it broken. Her flawless pale skin needed to be crisscrossed in pockmarks and overlaid with boils. That worthless insignificant whore didn't deserve her virtue still intact. She deserved to lose it flat on her stomach, wailing for it to stop.
There was no other person Pansy Parkinson hated and envied more than Hermione Granger.
The unknown girl slowly got to her feet and shuffled backward, apparently to the sinks.
"I guess she likes her mouth clean too," whispered Pansy absently.
As soon as she heard the splash of water from a running faucet, she slowly stepped down from her perch and peaked out her stall door. None other than the bushy brown hair of Granger starred back at her. A malicious grin spread across her face and she stepped across the threshold.
"Well Granger," she cooed. "What's wrong with you?"
Only for a single moment did Granger look up from washing her hands and face, then she glanced right back down. The mudblood had ignored her. That wasn't going to do at all. Not right now. She needed a reaction.
"Don't wanna talk huh? Well I wouldn't either if I had a bastard growing in my belly. From the sounds of it you got one." Pansy couldn't help herself, but cackle at her insult. "Let me guess. Did that blood traitor Weasely squirt it in you?"
There was still no response from the washing mudblood. Already Pansy could feel herself growing frustrated.
"Nah, it couldn't have been. That idiot's too stupid to know where put it anyway. I'll bet it was Potter who told you to drop your knickers and bend over. I bet he plowed you, like your whore of a mother gets every night."
She never registered the swish of movement; the only thing she saw was that the mudblood had her wand pointed at her. A sickly yellow line of light blasted at her and she was too stunned to even think of moving. It struck in the center of her fore head with the force of a hammer, wielded by a giant.
A sick white ringing seemed to cloud her mind as hard stone pressed itself into her side. Why was she on her side? She didn't remember falling.
Drunkenly she looked around for her wand. She spotted it only a little ways away from her outstretched hand. Slowly she tried to crawl toward it, to defend herself from another hex from Granger.
Suddenly a foot came crashing down on her extended forearm, pinning it. Writhing around, trying to make the foot let go, Pansy rolled onto her back to gaze into the threatening wand of the mudblood.
"Well what are you waiting for mudblood?" Pansy tried to seem unafraid as she was at the mercy of another, again. "Go ahead and hex me!"
The look on Hermione's face upset her more than being so easily beaten. It looked like the girl was pitying her. She didn't need that filthy girls pity!
"Stop looking at me like that," she bellowed. "What are you waiting for?"
"Pansy," spoke Hermione for the first time, her voice tremulous. "What happened to you?"
"What are you going on about? Are your eyes dirty along with that blood? Nothing's happened to me, except you!" Pansy knew she had her glamour. There was no way the one person she hated most could see her at her lowest.
Slowly Hermione removed her wand and pointed it at a bathroom mirror. With a twitch a single piece came flying toward her. Deftly Granger caught it, avoiding the sharp edges. Hesitantly the bitch turned it in her direction. It showed her true reflection. Her glamour, had failed.
Tears came unbidden to her eyes. She couldn't believe a person could hate themselves more than at any other possible moment. Of all the people to show her pity or even concern, it had to be that one misbegotten soul she hated most.
Why couldn't she have run out of tears? Why did she have to break down and weep in front of Granger, of all people?
"Stop looking at me," Pansy screamed. The pressure on her forearm vanished in an instant and the mudblood backed away several steps. Now Granger got to see how perfect she was compared to her. She was a bald, beaten mess; while that mudblood looked pristine.
All Pansy could do was curl into a ball and scream into her legs. For a while, that was all she did; as her mind ran in circles of hatred and self loathing.
The touch of a feather seemed to pull her from her ball of pain. She felt the lightest of touches on her shoulder. It was a feeling almost alien to her. There hadn't been such a soft touch since she was a child. She looked up, snot and tears covering her face.
"Pansy, please stop crying," came the gentle words of Granger. "I'm going to take you to Professor McGonagall and we'll get this sorted out."
With a soft hiccup Pansy could only laugh.
"What do you think she's gonna do? I'm not part of your house and I don't need your charity!" At that last sentence she said it with as much venom as she could muster. It sounded more like a watery yowl than an actual voice.
"Pansy," said Hermione. "She's also the deputy Headmistress. She is bound to do something." Obviously, Granger meant her voice to be reassuring, but to Pansy it was placating. She couldn't help, but feel insulted.
Uncurling from her tight little ball, Pansy shoved the girls helping hand away. She could stand on her own.
"Fine, Granger. Let's go see your precious McGonagall." The mocking tone of her voice said clearly what she thought of this.
Getting on her hands and knees, she slowly got up on two unsteady legs. Both legs felt like they had just been hexed into uselessness. She could barely support her own weight.
She staggered forward a few paces and pushed the lavatory door open with Granger hot on her heels.
"Well Granger, lead on," said Pansy with her arm pointing forward.
For a moment both she and Granger stood there not saying words. The look on that mudblood's was the same. It made a fire of rage grow inside her. She didn't want that bitch's pity.
Hermione went in the opposite direction of Pansy's arm.
"Okay, follow me. You can walk, right?"
"Of course I can walk, Granger. How far away is your bloody professors office anyway?"
Pansy didn't want the entire trip to be in silence. If it was quiet she was very liable to scream. Hermione's voice was slightly muffled out in front, but it echoed well enough, in the deserted corridor.
"It's not far from here. We just have to go up a floor."
That sent a tendril of dread down Pansy's spin. She could barely keep up with the mudblood; tackling stairs was going to be nearly impossible. Gritting her teeth, she would do it, if only so Granger wouldn't see her weak. After telling her roughly where McGonagall's office was they remained in uncomfortable silence until they reached the stairs.
It wasn't the grand staircase, thankfully. There were no constantly moving stairs rearranging themselves. Just one stairwell. It might as well be a torture straight from hell.
There were no candles or torches to provide light here, only regularly spaced small windows, that let in the soft morning light. The light pained Pansy's eyes. How long had she been awake? She had passed out from the ordeal for a time, but she never thought it was for so long.
"Granger," commanded the bald girl. "What time is it?"
The mudblood was already halfway up the stair way and looked back at Pansy's stationary form.
"It's eight in the morning." Hermione paused for a moment. Pansy could feel her eyes narrowing. "Why?"
"I was just curious, that's all. Are classes cancelled?"
She asked to keep the silence broken and so Granger wouldn't hear her whimpers as she picked herself up the stairs.
"Yes, they are. How come you didn't know that?"
With one painful step in front of the other Pansy walked up the stairs; Ears listening for Granger.
"None of your business," she retorted angrily . In no way, was she going to tell that mudblood what happened. Suffering that kind of humiliation, was beyond anything she could stand.
"Even if you're not going to tell me. You're going to have to tell McGonagall."
It was hard to breath when she finally the top of the stairs and Granger was standing there with both her hands perched on hips. No wonder that old bat of a transfiguration teacher made her a prefect. Capable of projecting a palpable aura of authority; she made Pansy's past attempts pale in comparison.
"Maybe I won't, Granger. Which way then?"
The bushy haired girl shook her head in what must have been consternation. With a perfectly pale pink arm Granger pointed her to the right and Pansy shuffled as directed. A small shake was building in her legs; Pansy could feel herself beginning to flag under the continued exercise.
They passed by several portraits on their journey and most seemed to heavily gossiping with one another. That was extremely odd to Pansy's bald head. Most portraits didn't start jumping around till much later in the day. What the hell happened while she was occupied? So lost in thought, over this oddity, she barely noticed the tugging sensation from Granger.
"Pansy," said Granger. "I want you to sit here while I talk to McGonagall." Her voice was gentle. It made Pansy want to hit her.
Nodding in understanding Pansy turned, as directed, to see the most uncomfortable looking bench she had ever seen. The wood, so old it might crumple at a touch and looked like it was carved by a blind man.
Suffering the indignity in silence Pansy sate down, hard. The unyielding wood reminded her womanhood again what it had suffered through. She couldn't help as a hiss of pain escaped her lips.
The look Granger sent her was damning. It was almost certain Granger suspected what had happened to her. That made the whole situation all the more shameful.
"I'll be right back Parkinson," whispered Granger. At least that's what Pansy thought she did. It was strangely hard to hear her. A peculiar fuzziness had started to come over her mind. She was so tired.
The creaking of well oiled hinges told Pansy the mudblood had opened the door next her. It didn't close all the way as soon as Granger had entered, letting her hear everything that was said in the office.
"Excuse me Professor McGonagall," said Granger, clearly nervous. "I need to talk to you."
"Oh yes, Miss Granger. Has his condition changed?" Oddly the Transfiguration teacher sounded exhausted.
Apparently Granger was very nervous because she began talking so fast Pansy could barely follow. "Well, no Professor. I need to talk to you about something else. I went to the bathroom and I found Pansy crying her eyes out. She's really hurt. I think," Pansy could feel Granger physically swallow before continuing. "I think someone really hurt her."
What a typical mudblood this girl was. Completely unable to say exactly what she had to know must have happened. She had been raped there was no way to down play it.
"You say Miss Parkinson has been hurt? I trust you brought her with you." The Deputy Headmistress sounded almost bored with the conversation.
"Of course Professor. She's right outside."
The sound of wood scraping on stone could be clearly heard as the Professor stood up. A few clicks of heels on solid stone and the office door opened to the stern faced figure of Minerva McGonagall followed closely by Granger.
"Well girl let me take a look at you then."
Hesitantly she looked into the steely eyed gaze of McGonagall. From those eyes Pansy saw exactly what she had expected to see. No pity. If she had been from Gryffindor or any other house there might have been some.
"Miss Granger, I want you to take Miss Parkinson to the hospital Wing and have Madam Pomfrey treat her."
This wasn't the action Granger had expected her precious Professor to take. "But, Professor McGonagall what about..."
Before she could even voice her question McGonagall swiftly cut her off. "I will hear no more of this Miss Granger. You will take Miss Parkinson to the Hospital Wing, now."
Turning around, McGonagall entered her office with a slight slam of the door.
She couldn't help, but savor the moment of utter confusion on Granger's face. While the mudblood was trying to help, it was unheard of for her to look so off balance. Then her face hardened and her eyes narrowed and she turned to look at Pansy.
"I guess I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey."
"You see Granger, she wasn't going to help me anyway," murmured Pansy. The bench was starting to feel unbelievably comfortable to her addled mind.
Granger reached down and bodily hauled her up from the bench. The thought of protesting, didn't even occur to her as Granger looped an arm around her side and began to walk/carry her to the Hospital Wing.
The trip to Pomfrey was oddly short to Pansy. Everything seemed to go black at moments and then she would find herself being hauled through a different part of the castle. If Granger carried her up a flight of stairs she didn't know. The only thing she knew was that the welcoming white sheet beds of the Hospital Wing were right in front of her.
The feeling of soft fabric on her cheek let her know that she had been placed on one of the beds.
"Pansy," said Granger in a low mumble, "I need you to stay awake. Pomfrey is here and she's going to look you over. Okay?"
"I don't wanna," drowsily murmured Pansy. She barely heard Granger say, "stay awake."
"Miss Parkinson," came the firm of voice of Pomfrey. "I will be judging the extent of your injuries. I am going to remove some of your uniform."
That jolted her awake like the slice of the Cruciatus curse. She was not going to let anyone undress her again. Her body may be too weak to do anything, but she could scream.
The feeling of soft hands touching the top of her pleated skirt provoked an instant reaction. A scream issued from her mouth that would have woken the dead. The hand had jerked away, but the memory of other hands, assaulted her senses.
Warm slimy hands caressing her bosom; cupping her womanhood. Whispers of horror. The feeling of spittle and the seed of men being smeared as she cried. The smell of sweat and the taste of salt, from violation, permeated everything.
It was too much for her mind. She had to curl up and scream. Even with her eyes closed tight she still saw the glow of red as it flashed, then she knew no more.
The sun had long set when Dumbledore, the old fool, had announced throughout the school that they were all to go back to their houses. She had been in her astronomy class along with a few other Slytherions. Thankfully none of them were Draco or her former friends.
While she had thought the man a senile old fool Pansy, like the rest of the students in her class, packed their things and rushed out the door. Easily the first to leave the room she rushed as fast as she could to the dungeons. It would be very stupid to be the last to enter the common room.
What she had not expected, as she made her insane dash, was running into Draco. He was just standing there, his shiny blonde hair just as she remembered it.
"Draco," said a winded Pansy. She could feel a rosy blush in her cheeks. He may have thrown her away, but she still genuinely cared about him. Jumping slightly he whipped around to face her.
"Oh, 'ello Pansy." He gave her one of his more winning smiles. They always could make her heart flutter.
"What are you doing here Draco?"
The look he gave her was slightly guilty. He had only just started to open his mouth to answer when she heard a high feminine voice behind her.
"Draco we didn't...Well if it's not the little doggy Parkinson," said Daphne Greengrass.
Spinning about so fast she cracked her neck, she spotted Greengrass directly behind her. Unbeknownst to Pansy, Greengrass and her former gang, along with several boys had appeared directly behind her. Each of them had drawn their wands and were pointing them directly at her.
The face of Daphne didn't hold a leer like the boys or a malicious smile like some of the girls. She looked cold and calculating as she gazed at a trapped Pansy.
"Trying to reclaim Malfoy, Parkinson?" Daphne's voice was cool as she spoke. "I don't think so."
A jet of purple light issued from her upraised wand, striking Pansy in the chest. All control she felt in her legs left as they collapsed of their own accord.
"You two," ordered Daphne pointing at two of the larger boys. "Grab her. I've got an idea."
Quickly two of the boys, more guerrilla than human, jumped to her command. She found herself swiftly hauled up, like a sack of flour, by both arms.
"Let me go," shouted Pansy as they manhandled her in front of Daphne.
"I don't think so Parkinson. You all remember that old classroom that Quirrel used to teach in right? That's close by lets go there. Parkinson needs a stiff talking to." For the first time she saw Daphne smile. It was a chilly smile, totally unsuited for her face.
She could feel her terror rising at the idea of being trapped in a room with Greengrass and her new cohorts. Both boys turned and began to drag her to their destination. Behind them the gaggle of girls and boys started to chat amongst themselves about what kind of curse Greengrass would use.
Valiantly she tried to struggle and break free from her captors, but her legs would still not obey her commands. When they finally reached an unused door she opened her mouth to scream as violently as possible. WHAM! An object of considerable strength struck the side of her head, throwing all notions of screaming to the wind.
"Now, now, none of that Parkinson. A dog must suffer, if ever they are to learn."
With that Greengrass walked around the boys and with a small push opened the door into the black beyond.
From the darkness, unseen hands reached out and ripped her from the grasp of her captors. They drew her into the waiting classroom even as she screamed and clawed the stone. Wet, liquid voices spoke all around her.
"We're gonna have some fun with you."
"She's got a pretty mouth. It'd be a pity if it wasn't used."
"I can't believe Draco hogged this nice arse to himself."
"You like that don't you, cunt. You love it!"
"So this is what a girl feels like?"
"Scream a little more for me. It's music to my ears."
"I love it when they cry."
"Ugh she's got a hairy cunt. I can fix that right quick."
"I bet she's never had anything up the bum. Lets give'er a go."
"You look like a bitch in heat!"
Oh god, please stop! You're hurting me!
"Stop your sniveling and get to work!"
"What a filthy cunt this ones got!"
"You're the tightest I've ever had."
Please, someone! Help me!
"You deserve this."
With a shriek of denial Pansy Parkinson awoke in a soft feather bed. She sat up right with a jerk, letting the thin cotton sheet fall off her nearly nude body.
When her ragged breathing began to finally slow down did she finally begin to sob. The tiny body shook violently as the memories, again, assaulted her mind.
"I shouldn't have tried to talk to him. It's my fault. If I just hadn't been so stupid, this wouldn't have happened."
The words brought no comfort to her as she sat there.
"Where the hell's Pomfrey," she muttered. Usually the slightly overbearing school nurse was within spitting distance of anyone in the Hospital Wing.
Only when looking around for any sign of the elderly woman, did she realize how dark it was. It had to be well best midnight by now.
"I guess she's asleep." Laying down, she tried to close her eyes and will herself to sleep.
Instead of darkness behind her eyes violent images flashed. Immediately her eyes popped back open, unable to even dream of sleeping.
Pansy laid there on the soft mattress and starred at the ceiling. The only good thing at that moment was her body no longer constantly throbbed.
"At least I don't hurt anymore. I hope Pomfrey has a contraceptive lying around here. I am not going to marry one of those bastards."
If she were really honest with herself, she would slit her own wrists before being compelled to marry anyone.
For a time, that was all she thought about. The multitude of options available to her, if she was indeed with child, were rather limited. Thinking about her options was certainly better than laying there, in the dark, with nothing but the voices in her own head for comfort.
You deserved it.
That particular voice prowled the labyrinth of her mind constantly. If she didn't feel as if it were completely right she might have started screaming again.
Tossing and turning, she tried to make the voice stop it's incessant chatter. It didn't really help much.
The entire Hospital Wing was just too quiet for her liking. Its silence made her feel as if there was something waiting in the darkness. Here she was on her side, defenseless.
Jerking away the sheets covering her, she stuck her legs out over the bed and stepped onto the cold stone floor. Apparently Madam Pomfrey had seen fit to completely undress her. Right now she was dressed in a nearly see through linen dressing gown.
It was so quiet. Walking back and forth across the stone floor actually proved very comforting. That was all she did as the silence remained unbroken.
Her heart was no longer beating furiously and the voice of blame was quieter now. Looking around she saw that she wasn't the only one in the Hospital Wing. Two beds directly opposite of her own were occupied.
The shriek she gave when she woke up had not apparently disturbed either of their occupants. It was was not to be surprised at how a big a heavy sleeper they both must be.
Quietly stepping over to the nearest bed she saw the unmistakable bushy brown haired head of Granger, fast asleep. All over the bed were scattered books with titles she had never heard of. Some were partly open, while others had small pieces of paper sticking out that must indicate a particularly interesting passage.
Typical mudblood Granger. Even in a place for the sick, the muggleborn couldn't stop herself from reading. Why did Granger go out of her way to bring her here? If she had been in Granger's shoes she would have left her there in the bathroom. That's what any other witch would have done; a wizard would have done much worse.
Did she want something from Pansy? Did she expect her to bow before the almighty and benevolent mudblood? If she did then she had another thing coming. Still, what did the girl expect to get from this act of charity?
Pushing those thoughts aside, she looked to the other bed and its tenant. All she saw was black hair and an extremely pale face. The person, whoever it was, still breathed small shallow breaths.
Gingerly, she tiptoed around the bed with Granger and walked over to see who had the messy black hair. When she drew close enough she made out a lighting shaped scar and recognized that pale face for who it was.
Harry Potter, scar face, the-boy-who-lived, the dark lords greatest enemy, was right now defenseless sleeping soundly on a feather bed. The boys mouth was slightly open his breathing shallow, but deeper then Grangers had been.
It would be so easy to cover his mouth and nose. In a single fell swoop she could have the dark lords favor with the squashing of a single life. Could she do it?
Hesitantly she reached down, her hand perfectly cupped. Potter stirred lightly in his sleep; it seemed even heroes could have restless dreams.
Her hand was so close to his mouth she could feel the heat of his breath as he exhaled. He was right there! Perfect for the plucking!
"I'm sorry," came a muffled whisper.
In a flash her hand stopped before it could engulf his mouth. What did he have to be sorry for? He had done nothing wrong. Then why did the dark lord want him dead?
He was a threat to he-who-must-not-be-named so that meant he had to die. Didn't it?
Even if she did stifle Potter, what good would it do her? Sure, she would gain the dark lords favor and he would probably bestow her his mark; but it was well known that the dark lord was a finicky master. His favor could disappear as if it had never existed to begin with.
Where would she be then? Would she be forced to marry one of the dark lords inner circle? She didn't want to do that now. The mere thought of the marriage night made shudders run down her spin.
What did she want now? Could she even have anything? Her goods were worn out now. It was probably already well known what had happened in the slytherion common room. Every respectable Pureblood family would know that she was worthless.
Falling back slightly, Pansy's now unbruised bottom hit an unoccupied mattress with a soft thump. So many thoughts were streaming across her mind, she didn't know where to begin.
She laid her head down on a soft pillow and starred at Potters face. What did she do? What could she do? What should she do? All she could do was stare at the boys face and think and question and blink. She did that till rays of newborn light began to filter in through the Hospital Wing's windows.
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