Ch 20

The winter chill had set in and as the students at Hogwarts bundled up and prepared for the upcoming break, Pandora didn't reach for her scarf or gloves. She was numb to the cold; it had taken its resting place within her and didn't bother her anymore. After over a month, she had stopped hearing Harry call her in her dreams, had stopped glancing at him in class and even stopped imagining about fifty million different ways that night could have gone. She had got what she wanted; Harry no longer would come to her or see any reason to be with her at all. He would no longer trust her, gaze at her, wonder about her. He had proclaimed his final judgment. But in truth, it wasn't what she had wanted at all. That was irrelevant, however.

She had gotten so used to the numbness that it consumed her daily life. She no longer sat up and waited for Viola to sneak in at night to question her, instead overwhelmed with such paralyzing insomnia that she just didn't notice when Viola slipped back in from her dates, the stench of some stranger's cologne lingering on her clothing, the wobbly walk that almost always included knocking over a few items and the sighs of relief when she realized she hadn't woken anyone up. Pandora knew Viola was soiling her reputation with each nightly rendezvous; but she didn't have it in her to try to talk to her. She simply shut her eyes and tried to imagine a world where her voice was heard.

She also lacked the strength to even attempt to refuse Bridget when she asked for potion after potion. She just silently obliged, not even reaching for her potion book as, by now, she had mastered the potions Bridget so fervently desired. Her friends, if they noticed her change in demeanor, said nothing. They continued to talk at her, not to her, attributing her pale skin and lifeless eyes to overworking or overstressing. She nodded weakly at their halfhearted attempts to comfort her, then let her shoulders sag with relief when they inevitably steered the conversation back on themselves, uncomfortable with the thought that if they paused long enough, she might actually accept their offers of help.

Pandora liked to think of herself as a strong-willed individual. Yet with each day that passed, her resolve diminished little by little, and the desire to speak with Harry grew stronger and more plausible with each minute that ticked by. She saw him everywhere; it was like he did it on purpose. Yet, he hardly ever met her gaze and when he did, it was like he was looking at a stranger. Which, truthfully, he was; the Pandora he had known was gone. But for Merlin's sake, she ached to bring her back.

One night she followed him without realizing she was following him. The feeling that filled her was familiar but she couldn't name it; it was only after she watched doors appear before him, watched him enter a secret room that she was able to pronounce it's name: purpose. He had given her a purpose, though it was temporary. She waited until he reappeared later, desperate to hang onto this feeling, this purpose.

Others entered and others left. It was nearly dawn when he finally emerged, his eyes tired and body hunched, but still as beautiful as ever. She strutted out from her hiding spot and headed over to him, shocking both of them. He stopped in his tracks, a mixture of fear and curiosity freezing him in time.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, knitting his brow in anger.

"What are you doing?" he responded evenly, his eyes secretly tracing the curve of her lips, his heart pounding wildly, his mind racing with the desire to just grab her and kiss her right there. He had been thinking about her nonstop and hating himself for it; each night he taunted himself with images of her, knowing it would bring him solace from the nightmares but would inescapably bring about new ones.

"Is this like, some secret club?" she ignored his question, diverting it back to him. "You know, you all could get in trouble for this. If Umbridge found out—"

"In case you didn't realize, Pandora," her name in his mouth, filled with so much disdain, was so unlike every other time he had said it that it brought a stab to her chest. "This is none of your business. Whatever I do is none of your business." He turned at that, walking away before he broke inside and rushed to her, begging her to love him the way he knew in that moment that he loved her.

She waited every day to see him enter the secret room. The Room of Requirement, as she later learned it was called. She saw how Filch, Draco, and other Slytherins learned of its whereabouts and attempted to catch them in the act in order to report them. She threw them off multiple times, claiming she had seen them go that way, this way, heard they were meeting here, there, until finally Draco told her she better hex the person who gave her information, as they were a blubbering idiot. She smiled demurely in response, leaving him flushed and exhilarated without knowing why, but at least he was distracted and forgot for a moment his true purpose, allowing those inside the room adequate time to escape unseen.

It was right before winter break that she resolved to enter. She had been debating it for a while; it was clear Harry had not wanted to see her. But with each passing day, something new within her died. Even her passion for potion making had withered away to some desolate place. The only feeling that ignited any sort of emotion within her were those she still held for Harry. This kept her alive, her heart beating, and her mind focused and sharp. So on the last night she waited until she believed every other student had left the room and she walked towards the blank wall. She wasn't sure how exactly it worked; she just knew that it only lended itself to those who truly needed it. Despite not knowing if it would appear for her, she approached it with her heart full and her mind unwavering.

It appeared instantly. Her fingers quaked as she reached for the knob. She had no idea what she would say, how she would say it. But none of that was in her mind as she opened the door. All she could think was about his voice, his hands, his eyes, his longing; it all filled her to the brim like a glass of wine and she entered the room, her eyes filled with tears before she took in the scene before her. There, in the center of the room, stood Harry. But he was not alone. He was interlocked in a kiss with Cho Chang. Pandora stood for a moment taking in the scene and felt her body sag. Something within her broke free, spiraled out of control and crashed. It seemed like light years, though it was only seconds, and Pandora was out of the room before Harry or Cho Chang took in a breath.

Her motions were fluid like a machine. She was once again filled with the purpose. Her knock was hard, demanding to be heard. The door creaked open and Pandora found herself face to face with a grinning pile of pink.

"Professor Umbridge?" her voice was strong and confident, though she was anything but. "If you want information on Harry Potter and his secret club, I think you'd better go question Miss Cho Chang."