Study Hall

Chapter Ten

Ron continued thumbing his way through the book and marveling at the artwork inside. The drawings were so real and life like. He passed a picture of a potion boiling inside a cauldron. The bubbles looked as if they would burst out of the page. The only thing more starling than the quality of the pieces was the person who created them.

Pansy Parkinson was a first class bitch, plain and simple. Not a low rate bitch whose biggest trick is talking behind your back. The thing about Pansy was that there is next to nothing she would say behind your back and not say to your face. And the things she would say to your face weren't mundane things like outfit mishaps or the embarrassing thing you did at some party two years ago. No, Pansy would say something utterly morbid about your dying mother or your spell damaged brother and then tact on the mundane things to ensure she thoroughly stepped and pissed on all of your feelings. She was ruthless and cold-hearted. Well, not completely. These last few months have showed Ron that Pansy showed more restraint the more she liked you but Merlin help you if you tick her off.

It was for these reasons that Ron had difficulty linking Pansy with these art pieces or with his feet for that matter. He eyed the brunette who was still steadily rubbing them. He shook his head in shock and returned to the sketch book. "I always wanted to draw but all I can make are stick figures," Ron admitted. He heard a snort of derision in response. Ron paused his flipping to stare at one picture that caught his eye. Pansy was in the drawing with her arm wrapped around the shoulders of a blonde little girl. Pansy was smirking in the picture while the small girl was smiling big and bright. Her hair framed her heart-shaped face while Pansy wore straight brown locks in a loose bun. Ron asked, "You have a sister?"

Pansy did not bother looking at where he was pointing to. "Is it a little, blonde woman?"

'Woman?' Ron thought in confusion. "Well, she's little and blonde."

"Yes, that would be my mother."

Ron tried to sit up but Pansy's easy grip on his foot turned vice-like in an instant. He instead shoved the book in Pansy's face and pointed to the picture in question. "But I'm talking about this girl."

Pansy's eyes flashed. "I'm not stupid, Weasley. I know who you're talking about. That's my mother," She repeated.

Ron protested, "No, it's not!"

She looked up at him incredulous. "How are you going to tell me that that is not my mother? You don't even know what she looks like you cretin-,"

He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I grew up with five older brothers. Disbelief is my initial reaction to everything." He stared down at the picture once more. "But she looks so young and she's so tiny."

"Well she's 4'10". I imagine that she looks quite small in comparison to your freakishly tall frame but that does not make her any younger."

Ron lay back down on the couch, humming his agreement. "Does she draw like you?"

Pansy nodded, digging her thumb into the arch of his foot, causing Ron to flex his foot in reflexively. She chuckled, "Art is kind of a thing in my family. My mother does it, her father, his father before him- everyone in the Mauprivez line. Our small hands make us able to pay close attention to detail."

"Let me see them," Pansy placed her right hand into Ron's open palm. His eyes widened at the size as he turned them this way and that. They were impossibly tiny, especially in Ron's massive hands which completely engulfed Pansy's dainty ones. It was like holding hands with a child. "Wow, and your mom's hands are this small?"

"And my grandfather," Pansy nodded. "He always tells me that I should be grateful that I'm a girl. Grandfather has always been a bit self-conscious about the proportion of his hands to the rest of his body but Merlin knows he would never admit."

Ron wrinkled his noise. "You know, you guys talk so proper. Why not call him Grandpa or Pop Pop-,"

Pansy mouthed, "Pop Pop" as if she had a bad taste in her mouth.

"I wouldn't be calling them 'Grandfather' or 'Grandmother.' That doesn't sound weird to you?"

"Weasley do you have your own room?" Pansy exclaimed as her hands stilled.

Ron frowned, "only when Harry's not at the Burrow for the holidays but that has nothing to do with grandfathers-,"

"No, look!" She pointed out a door beside the bathroom that had 'Ron Weasley' written in cursive writing. Ron quickly removed his feet from Pansy's clutches and padded over to the mahogany door. Pansy pouted at the loss for a brief moment before she, Harry, Draco, Blaise, and Hermione followed suit. They stood before the door with wonder. Everyone except for Pansy, that is. "It's a door, people. As fascinating as it is, I'm sure the inside is a lot better. Open it, Weasley!" She demanded.

Ron slowly reached for the handle and then stilled. At Ron's pause. Pansy let out an impatient sigh and opened the door herself before receiving a reprimanding nudge from Blaise.

Inside the room was king sized, four poster bed on the far wall with plush scarlet and gold comforters. All of his things had been moved to this bedroom, including his school trunk that lay at the foot of his bed and his Chudley Cannons poster that hung above the bed's headboard. He also had an armoire, several couches, a coffee table, and a study desk with his books already neatly placed on it. This room was far more spacious than the one he shared with the other Gryffindor Sixth Years. He briefly wondered if he would be sharing the space with Harry and Malfoy once they got private room privileges when a voice filled the room.

"Congratulations, Mr. Weasley. You have been awarded your very own room for a job well done. We do encourage you to stay in the common room as much as possible but you are free to come to this room as you wish, should you ever need time alone," Professor McGonagall's voice paused at the simultaneous cries, "Lucky!"

"Unlike the balcony, you may allow your other housemates inside. However, Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter have only a limited amount of time allotted inside the room while the Slytherin's time will be unrestricted. Oh, please don't look so dour, Mr. Weasley. We are, after all, trying to bud new friendships not nurture the old ones. Keep up the good work."

"Well then," Pansy summoned the abandoned bottle of lotion and headed over to the nearest couch in Ron's new room. She patted the seat beside her and commanded, "Have a seat, Weasley."

"Parkinson, no," Ron shook his head firmly. He sat beside her but deliberately cross-legged. The rest of his Housemates filed into his bedroom and sat down with them.

Pansy tilted her head in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Ron smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I don't know how you managed it but you made my feet feel both relaxed and violated at the same time. Just give it a rest, okay? But maybe later?" He added at Pansy's forlorn look. He hesitantly reached over to give her a comforting pat on the hand for good measure.

"Don't touch me!" Pansy snatched her hand away as if she had been scalded. Just like that, anger wiped the sad look off her face. She narrowed her eyes at the redhead and crossed her arms in a huff. "I suggest you rid yourself of that attitude and start showing some gratitude. You owe me!"

"For what?" Ron looked aghast.

"Hello! It was my foot massage that opened the locks in the first place."

Ron opened his mouth to object but Draco cut him off. "Pansy, you would not have thought to give him a massage had I not hid his socks-,"

She scoffed, "Relevance? My friendship got him this room!"

Blaise argued, "Well, what about mine?"

Pansy rolled her eyes, "What about yours? It got him access to a balcony. Whoop-dee-do."

"Hey! Yours would not have been a second friendship if mine was not the first-,"

"And yours would not have been a friendship at all had it not been for my help."

"Well Draco, if you are so smart, why didn't you befriend the speckled idiot?"

"Oi!"

Draco ignored the objection. "To get you balcony so you would no longer be left out!"

"Oh!" Pansy brightened. "That is so sweet! Blaise, isn't that sweet?"

"That is sweet!" Blaise agreed.

"Thank you, Draco!" Pansy beamed.

"You are not welcome," Draco huffed and sat back on the couch.

Ron let out a heavy sigh. "Well, I feel used." He watched Pansy walk over to hug the boy Slytherin, who remained stiff through the embrace. Blaise sat, twirling a strand of her hair around a finger. The three of them sat in a comfortable silence as if the argument had never happened. The Gryffindors stared blankly at the other housemates' exchange.

The Gryffindors wished they could say this was the only time they witnessed such a heated exchanged but they couldn't. That fight was just one of many. One afternoon, they sat quietly eating their lunch as the next altercation unfolded.

"What?" Blaise looked blankly at her cousin. Draco was about to repeat his request when Pansy interrupted him.

"GIVE. HIM. THE. SANDWICHES!"

Blaise passed the plate and rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic Pansy. I didn't hear him, okay?"

"Gee, that's funny." Pansy's voice dripped with sarcasm. She counted on manicured fingers. "I heard him, Weasley heard him, Potter heard him, even the Mudbl-, I'm sorry." She paused to correct herself upon Ron's scowl. "That BITCH heard him, just about everyone heard him. What the hell are you working on that requires that much attention?" Pansy snapped.

Draco looked at his cousin, sternly. "Do not let her speak to you like that!"

"I won't! Who do you think you are?" Blaise demanded.

"Umm, Pansy Parkinson, daughter of Lucky and Whitney Parkinson. Anymore asinine questions?"

"Pansy, can you even spell 'asinine?'"

"Fuck you!"

"I'm sorry, that is incorrect, Ms. Parkinson. Would you like to try again?"

"I 'would like' to stick my fist up your puss-,"

Draco dropped his spoon in agitation, "Why do you do that?"

Pansy looked blankly at him. "What are you talking about?

"You always do that-,"

"Do what?"

"We'll be having a perfectly normal conversation and then you go into this deep dark place that is the gutter of your mind. What possesses you to talk like that?

"Don't ask me that! Do you see me asking why you put all that shit in your hair?"

"Attend, attend, attend. My hair products are not shit."

"Explain to me how you spend so much money on those products when they make it look like you every morning you go to that bathroom and jack off and then rub your cum through your hair to get it to stick to your head like that." Pansy spared a glance at Granger, who choked on a piece of food, Harry, who was thumping her on the back, and Ron, who was pretending to read his upside down Potions book to cover up his snickers. "Honestly, Draco, you look like a utensil."

Draco and Blaise looked at Pansy in confusion. Harry supplied, "I think you mean 'a tool.'" He bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"That's what I said."

"I do not look like a tool!"

"But you kind of do . . ." Blaise trailed off at the murderous look at Draco's face. They continued quibbling at each other for a while longer. Meanwhile, Ron had now resorted to putting his head down since the book was shaking too hard but his visibly quivering shoulders weren't any better. Harry chuckled to Hermione. "I have never met people who bicker as much as they do. And it's not even malicious. It's like they bicker for the sake of bickering."

Draco whipped his stare at Harry. "Excuse me, Potter. Do we look like beggars? I do not recall asking for your two Knuts."

"Yeah!" Pansy chimed. "Who asked you?" Harry braced himself for another round when Blaise stopped them.

"Stop please. Transfiguration is hard enough without you guys going at it." She returned her concentration to the blank piece of parchment and her open book. The group fell silent once more and resumed eating. Their lunch plates had just disappeared when Blaise slammed her quill down and book shut in frustration. Her eyes blazed with exasperation. "Why must we know how to turn a rabbit into a stool? Like what's the purpose of that?"

"Well-,"

"Pansy," Blaise shut her eyes with forced patience. "If you say something blaringly obvious, I will throw this book at you." Blaise waited and was met with silence. "Draco, you have to help me, please!" She begged.

Draco held his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, Blaise. I barely get the subject myself. I couldn't explain it to you if I tried."

Blaise closed her eyes and banged her against the table. Harry and Ron both gave Hermione a look. She mouthed, "What?" They looked down at Blaise and back at Hermione pointedly. Hermione sighed and glanced over at the girl and said softly, "I can help you." Blaise didn't budge and Hermione shrugged in defeat. Ron nudged Hermione and Harry ground out, "Louder!"

Hermione reached over with trepidation and tapped Blaise on the shoulder. Blaise sat up and peered at the bushy-haired girl. "Yes?"

Hermione cleared her throat and offered, "I could help you with Transfiguration."

Blaise narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously. "Seriously?"

Hermione nodded. "Transfiguration is my favorite subject."

Blaise stared at Hermione for a long time. The others looked on silently as Hermione squirmed under the Slytherin's steady gaze. She stuck up her chin. "Look, if you don't want my help then-,"

"I do!" Blaise winced at her desperate tone. "I was wondering how you could possibly like a subject that is utterly impossible."

Hermione softened. "Once you get the hang of it, it's not so bad."

"If I get the hang of it," Blaise corrected, opening her book once more. "Animal transformations are beyond me."

"Don't worry. You'll get it soon enough." Hermione searched her bag for her own copy of the Transfiguration book and missed the grateful smile Blaise flashed her way.

By the end of the study session, Blaise had both a handle on Transfiguration and her very own bedroom.

Professor Dessen dealt out the usual round of Butterbeers. This time, the seven of them were gathered on the balcony to Hermione's pleasure. Save for classes, it had been a very long time since she had been outside and without taking Astronomy, it had been an even longer time she set eyes on the night sky. The stars twinkled above their heads and the moon hung bright and plump in the sky. An evening breeze blew steadily and Hermione was ever grateful for the warm bottle in her hands. She curled deeper into the blanket she had Transfigured and focused on the conversation once more.

"So how is it really? I mean, I see that you guys are getting along but how are you guys really? How have you been holding up?" Professor Dessen smiled eagerly.

Pansy took a swig from her bottle before inquiring. "Why do you bother asking? You can see what goes on here."

"No, we can't."

She quirked an eyebrow, "Really? You can't?"

"Gosh, no. We see into the room after a friendship has been made but we can't watch all the time. That would be a blatant violation of privacy!" She exclaimed.

"Oh, as opposed to locking six teenagers in a single room against their will?" Draco wondered, feigning curiously. He stood up from his seat on the bench and made his way to the door.

"Well, that's different," the young professor protested.

"Of course it is." Draco rolled his eyes disappearing through the door.

The professor shook her head at Draco's retreating form. "How do you all put up with him?" She pinned her gaze on Harry with a bright smile. "I suppose I should ask you, Harry, since you're a recent friend of his."

Harry ducked his head at her admiring gaze and shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. We get along-,"

"POTTER!"

"For the most part," he finished as the male Slytherin stomped back on to the porch. The blond held an object firmly in his hand that looked suspiciously like his Firebolt that he had been shining before Professor Dessen's arrival. He may or may not have left the broom in the middle of the floor mid-shine after spotting the pack of Butterbeers in her hand. Harry winced upon spotting Draco's red cheekbone. 'Oh hell,' he thought. His broomstick had made Draco fall on top of it being in a place that it shouldn't be. He shuddered at the memory of the lecture he got from using Draco's toothpaste and Harry hadn't even known about His Highness' weird commandments for proper toothpaste handling. He inwardly groaned at the thought of the impending nagging he would get. This was has to be worse. Draco was always on his and Ron's ass about putting their stuff away, saying things like-

"I ought to shove this broom up your nose!"

"Ha!" Pansy snickered. For a second there, "I thought he was gonna say that he'd shove it up Potter's-,"

"Ask! Ask me how many times I've told you to not leave your things lying around." Draco calm demeanor belied his growing irritation.

Harry tried to stave off Draco's anger. Maybe a quick apology will stop this from escalating. After all, it worked last time. "I'm sor-,"

"No, no." Draco shook his head and pointed the offending broomstick into Potter's face. "If you were sorry, this wouldn't have been lying in the middle floor where any unsuspecting person could fall to their death."

"At six feet? Really, Malfoy? Death from a six feet fall?"

"Potter, you're evading the question."

"Oh my goodness," Harry rolled his eyes. "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU-,"

"I have perfect hearing Potter. There is no need to shout-,"

"HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU TOLD ME?" Harry continued on in an even louder voice.

"Six times, Potter. This is not Potter mansion where Draco the House Elf picks up after Master Potter-,"

"Come off it, Malfoy."

"No, I'm not going to come off it, Potter. I'm not going to come off anything because I am sick of your things lying all over the place and I am sick of having to pick up after you!"

Harry yelled, "You have NEVER picked up my things. You just stand there and bitch until I get it-,"

"How dare you! I do not bitch."

Professor Dessen sipped her beverage quietly, "Are they always like this?"

Pansy shook her head. "It's only when Potter gets annoying."

"I am not annoying!"

"You are!" Draco shoved the Firebolt at Harry and snapped his head to the Professor. "He always wears these baggy, old, and unflattering Muggle clothes just to hurt my feelings."

Harry gave Draco a withering glare and turned to the Professor himself. "I know that Malfoy and I are friends and all but I still get this overwhelming urge to clock him. Is that normal?"

"Please explain to me the correlation between time and the fact that you are a complete and utter slob."

"No, no, no! That color is all wrong. You'll look like a commoner. It's wretched, absolutely wretched!"

Blaise rolled her eyes. "Would you like to use the lavender, Pansy?"

"If you wouldn't mind." Pansy plucked the light shade of purple from her friend's hand and placed it beside her.

After a long day of Potions, Transfiguration, and History of Magic essays, the two girls were sitting on the couch closet to the fire. They decided to do their nails because it had been ages since they had done anything like this and the two girls missed their time together. Pansy filed her nails, silently debating whether or not to do a design on them. Blaise clipped her nails, wondering how to go about bringing up the subject of Terry Boot.

By all appearances, Blaise was as callous and cold-hearted as the rest of the Slytherins. She always laughed whenever Crabbe or Goyle beat up underclassmen and sneered as she stepped over Hufflepuffs tripped by Millicent. Occasionally, she would even direct a few "Mudbloods" towards Pansy's victims of the moment. Yes, she behaved exactly as what was expected of her being a prominent figure in the Slytherin house and a descendent of one of the most powerful families in the Pureblood communities.

But in all honesty, Blaise was nothing like the way she acted in front of other people. Those who truly knew her knew that she was actually quite soft. They could see the strain in her snickers and the quiver in her sneers and they could hear the faintest fumble in her name calling. She found these actions caviler and abhorred partaking in them. Who cares if a muggleborn makes eye contact with them or if a First Year steps on a shoe? That is no reason to retaliate by breaking the "transgressor's" glasses or Cursing their shoes.

This is precisely why she had hesitated in bringing up the Ravenclaw in the first place. Unlike Blaise, Pansy possessed a thirst for vindication that secretly frightened her. The fight with Granger aside, Pansy has never laid a hand on anyone but she had an apt for destruction and devastation that was nearly unparalleled and she feared how far the brunette would take this situation with Boot.

Normally, she would just forget the incident and move on but the Ravenclaw wouldn't let her. She did everything she could to avoid the boy but of course she couldn't escape from him in classes. At these times, she would keep her gaze glued to the front of the classroom but occasionally she did make eye contact with the boy. The few times their eyes did meet, he would be staring at her with a look that she could only describe as hungry. The first time this happened, she froze in shock and watched him slowly lick his lips and mouth, "I want you." Blaise was prepared to spend the next two years staying the hell away from him but Ron had caught sight of one of Boots leering looks in Charms this morning. As soon as they stepped in the portrait hole for lunch, the redhead had yanked her aside.

"I will kill him if he ever looks at you like that again!" He growled. His grip on her arm tightened in anger.

Blaise shook her arm from his clutches and sighed, "It's nothing."

"It's fucking creepy, is what it is. Has this been going on all this time? Do you want me to talk to him?" He whispered, furiously. Blaise saw Ron's face and ears had flushed with anger and she found herself feeling oddly touched by this.

She smiled and patted his shoulder, "Ron, it's okay. He'll stop."

"It's been over a month! Tell Malfoy about it because Parkinson sure as hell never handled it."

"Actually…" Blaise smiled sheepishly. "I never told her about what happened."

"Oh," Ron regarded her for a beat before asking, "Were you gonna tell her before or after he raped you in a broom closet?"

"Ron!"

"I'm serious, Blaise. You tell her today."

"You don't understand, Ron. Pansy will-,"

"Today, Blaise."

She crossed her arms and stared up at him, "Or what?"

"Or I'll have to kick his ass on the way to class tomorrow which will make me late for Potions. Do you really want the wrath of Snape on your hands?"

"I'll talk to her…today," She hastily added at Ron's raised eyebrows.

"Good. Now, I'm going to pretend to do homework for the next hour so Hermione gets off my back. When are you-," He stopped talking at the feel of Blaise's lips on his cheek. He immediately felt his neck heat up. He didn't think he'll ever get used to the Slytherin cheek kissing business. "Couldn't you high five or something?" Ron called out after her retreating form.

So here she was, doing manicures with Pansy hours later and she still hadn't broached the subject. She had better do it soon since Ron was making not-so-subtle gestures from the homework table whenever she caught his eye.

"Pansy?"

"Yeah?" The brunette's eyes flickered in her direction in brief acknowledgment before returning to her filing.

"Do you know Terry Boot? He's a Ravenclaw in our year…?" She trailed off at Pansy's snicker. "I take it that you do?"

"Do I! I gave him head at the end of the year house party last year. He talks so big for a guy who's so small," She chuckled and spared Blaise another glance. At her friend's shocked look she sobered, "I'm sorry. Are you interested in him? He's really not as small as I made him out to be-,"

"Pansy-,"

"And even if he was, that would be a good thing for you, right? I mean, you're a virgin. It would be easier on you."

"Pansy, I'm not interested in him."

"Are you sure? I could hook you guys up!" Pansy perked up at the thought of matchmaking.

"No, I'm trying to tell you that he's been creeping me out."

All of a sudden Pansy's smile disappeared and she was all business. "Dite-moi, Blaise. Did that fucker try anything-,"

Blaise cut her off and grabbed her hands that had stopped filing and were clenching with fury. "Pans, nothing happened. It's like you said. He's a lot of talk."

"Tu mens. Qu'est-ce que c'est passé?"

The raven haired girl stared at the fuming girl beside her. The angel blue eyes narrowed and bore into her. There was nothing she could do at this point. Pansy was out for blood. With a sigh, Blaise filled Pansy in on what was going on these past couple weeks.

"He did WHAT!" Pansy leapt out of her seat.

"Would you keep your voice down?" Blaise grounded out and yanked Pansy back into the seat. She looked about herself and rolled her eyes. Just as she suspected, Pansy's outburst had gained everyone else's attention in the room. Hermione poked her head out from her copy of Hogwarts: A History, and Harry, Ron, and Draco stopped their heated discussion as to which Quidditch team would make it to the World Cup. Blaise smiled and waved at the group before returning her attention back to Pansy, who was still shaking her head in disbelief.

"I can't believe that he- That little bastard! Who does he think he is? He will pay, Blaise, he will pay," Pansy said vehemently.

"Pansy, you need to calm down-,"

"DO NOT- sorry. Do not tell me to calm down!" Pansy's voice lowered into a furious whisper when the room occupants stared at her once more and Blaise's hand dug into her arm. "He can't do that, not to you. I won't allow it." Pansy shook her head emphatically as if to lodge the very thought out of her mind. She resumed filing her nails with vengeance and her blazing eyes darted back and forth.

Blaise took all this in and for a moment, she feared for the Ravenclaw. She covered her friend's hand with her own to still her movements. Blaise looked the brunette in the eye and said earnestly, "Pansy, promise me you won't take this too far."

Pansy dislodged Blaise's hands from her own. "Never mind me taking it too far. You should have come to me as soon as this happened!" She jabbed an accusing finger into Blaise's chest before resuming her task.

"Pansy, please." Pansy looked up at that. Blaise's eyes were wide and pleading and she could spot water starting to collect at the edges. Pansy rolled her eyes with annoyance. Merlin, Blaise could get so fucking emotional sometimes. She sighed and wrapped an arm around the other girl's shoulders to placate her. Blaise laid her head on Pansy's chest. Pansy, in turn, laid her head on the crown of the raven haired girl. "I'm serious, Pans. There's something really off about Boot. Promise me you won't get carried away?"

Pansy rubbed Blaise's shoulder and whispered soothingly, "Don't you worry, your pretty little head about it." She eyed the lavender nail color still placed beside her and lightly coughed. "If this sob fest is over, I would like to get back to my nails please." They both smiled and extracted themselves from each other to continue their manicures.

A few months from now, Blaise will heatedly bring up this conversation once more and Pansy will politely point out that she never promised her a thing.