"I have a love-hate relationship with my glass—because I love making it, but I also feel like I could be doing so much more with it. The curse of the artist..." - Pansy to Gerry, standing in her garden, picking lemons and feeling like a huge failure.

The next day Pansy fiddled with Neville's unwanted award as she sat at the kitchen table, attempting to repair the damage she did. Her new friend had taken off early that morning, without so much as a goodbye and Pansy wondered if the cold shoulder was due to her behavior… or because of whatever happened between him and Hannah.

She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, too afraid to close her eyes and of what she might see in her dreams.

Wayne brought over some supplies for her, including a big jar of putty, which she used to fill in the crack on the plaque. Working with her hands got her feeling a lot better but still… she wondered…

Right before lunch time the Floo came to life, and she waited at the table for Neville to pop his head around the door. But it wasn't him at all that appeared in the giant doorway.

It was Hermione Granger.

"Oh, hello. Neville isn't here."

The witch smiled pleasantly. "No? I told him I was stopping by today, oh well. You can fill him in later?"

She wanted to stay? Uh oh. "Fill him in on what exactly?" Pansy asked, trying to sound cordial. But the sight of her childhood counterpart made Pansy completely uncomfortable. It wasn't anything Hermione did.

Oh no.

Pansy had been the problem. The bully. The mean girl. And Hermione had been her prime target. She didn't see how the two of them could ever be friendly. Especially now. Hermione had flourished after school, becoming a successful Ministry worker and advocate for Creature Rights.

And Pansy sat with her hands caked in putty, sweat on her forehead, hiding out from a cult trying to kill her.

Super.

But the witch continued to smile as she sat down at the table, removing her jacket and setting down a rose colored briefcase. She went off much the same way she used to in school.

"I found several fascinating texts on possession, and I read them all last night. As I'm sure you're aware, a witch or wizard has the ability to leave an imprint of their soul behind when they die, what we call ghosts. Another name for them is phantom or spectre. They stay behind for any number of reasons. Fear of death, fear of the beyond, unfinished business, a strong connection to a special person or place. Such as Hogwarts for example."

As she spoke, Hermione pulled out several textbooks. "Some people incorrectly refer to them as spirits. Spirits are different from phantoms. Spirits are the soul of the person who passed. Not an imprint, as such, they cannot haunt the physical world like ghosts do. They have to have a living, breathing, body to attach to."

"So how do we get them out of our bodies?" Pansy interrupted. That was the main goal after all. She didn't care what the difference between ghost and spirit and whatever else. She just wanted her life back.

"Well that's the thing," Hermione bit on her lip nervously. "You have to ask yourself how did they attach in the first place? Through the bracelets, am I correct?"

She reached out and lifted Pansy's wrist up, avoiding wet putty as she did. "A soul won't stay behind. Dark magic is the only way to keep the actual soul from moving on."

"Dark magic," Pansy nodded as if she knew it all along. She looked away from Hermione before she started yelling. "I knew it, Stella. You cursed these bracelets! You cursed me!"

Stop yellin', hon. I'm in your head, I can hear you just fine.

Shouting out in frustration, Pansy stood up and started pacing. "What do you want? What do you want, Stella!"

My husband. I want to be with my husband, nothing less, nothing more. Wouldn't you want the same? If you were separated from your true love?

"True love? What kind of soap opera-romance drama have I fallen into? Why me?" Pansy sank into her previous chair, hands covered in rapidly drying putty, and barely resisted the urge to cry.

One, it would be beyond embarrassing to cry in front of Hermione Granger of all people. But two, it wouldn't do her any good. It wouldn't solve any of her current problems.

"So," Pansy steeled herself for bad news. "The only way for Neville and I to get rid of the spirits is to get the bracelets off?"

"That's my thinking as well," Hermione nodded, looking baffled by Pansy's seemingly one-sided conversation. "We need to find out the exact curse used to bind the spirits to the bracelets. Breaking that curse will break the bracelets and free you from possession."

"Want to come clean, Stella?" Pansy asked, eyes rolling heaven forward. "Save me a lot of trouble? No? Didn't think so."

Hermione reached out, hesitated, then silently patted her hand in a gesture of comfort. Awkwardly. "I have more research to do. The answer is out there. We just have to find it. But I should tell you, I did find one way to break the curse..."

"I'm all ears," Pansy felt hope for the first time.

"Well, this should really be a last resort option," Hermione continued slowly. "Everything I read did say the souls would move on if yours moves on as well. Since they are bound together."

"Move on… you mean, die?"

"That's correct," Hermione winced. "I'm not advocating for this option, Neville is a very good friend of mine and I can already tell he cares a great deal for you."

Pansy laughed. It sounded as hopeless as she felt.

"I know you're only doing this to help Neville, but thank you," Pansy pulled her hand away, wishing she could strangle the voice in her head. She felt crazier than ever, trapped in this house without her guards, without her glass, and around people she never thought she would spend any time with ever again.

More, this foreboding sense of claustrophobia had slowly crept up on her until she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Two voices in one head. Two souls in one body. The insanity of it made her shake. She never wanted to be alone so badly.

To distract herself, she hopped up and opened the cabinet, grabbing one of several jars of the apricot jam she made. "Here," she offered to Hermione. "I hope you like it. It's homemade."

"Thank you. The famous jam, I can't wait to try it," Hermione said softly, placing the sealed jar in her briefcase. She sounded genuine at least. "And watch out for Susie, she'll be over soon too. She's an apprentice curse breaker and… she and Neville are best friends."

Great. Another friend. Another girl. Pansy resisted the urge to ask what would happen if she died. Would it set Neville free? Everyone might be better off if she went and Apparated off a bridge or something.

But she didn't think Hermione would appreciate her joke.

After she left, Pansy forced down a glass of water and went back to her putty. It was drying much darker than the stone of the plaque and stood out like a sore thumb. Of course, did it even matter if Neville didn't want the damn thing?

With a sigh, she cleaned up her mess and took the broken stone up to her room before flopping down on the bed. "Tell me about Gus."

She waited for a response but there was nothing in her head besides her own thoughts. "Come on, Stella. You love talking about that husband of yours. Usually I can't get you to shut up about him."

… Total silence.

"I guess you've grown sick of him," Pansy shrugged, switching tactics. "I hear that about some married couples. The love just tappers out. What can you do?"

Oh, shut that mouth of yours, hon. The love between Gus and I would never tapper out as you've so callously suggested. What we have is forever.

"Even after death?" Pansy felt the temperature drop, causing her to shiver violently.

Forever, Stella repeated. Then went quiet again. Damn ghosts. Spirits. Whatever they were! Pansy was plum tired of them. Tired of The Brotherhood. Just tired. She needed uninterrupted, uneventful sleep for at least 7-8 hours and she was guessing Neville did too. Coming to stay at Longbottom Keep might've been the worst idea ever.

The bracelet around her wrist seemed to tighten, that sense of claustrophobia returning. She was good for exactly two things. Making jam and making stained glass.

Neither of those things would help her now.

But you aren't alone, Stella whispered quietly across her mind. I'm here, and like it or not, that stud would step in for you any-time, hon. He's a bona-fide gentleman, I can promise you that.

"Bonafide gentleman..." Pansy repeated, eyes tired and staring up at the ceiling. She recalled the way his shirt had stuck against his upper body the day before. Seeing a torso sweated from physical work as he pulled his shirt off, brave enough not to care that she saw him naked from the waist up. Daring her to stick around and keep arguing with him.

Oh damn. Maybe she should have. Hannah probably would have stood her ground, would have proven she could handle it.

Pansy bit down on her lip, imagining she was worth a damn and could handle being around a man in that kind of heated situation. Imagining about his smile to go along with a sexy jaw line ... "STOP IT STELLA!"

What? I haven't done a thing!

"You're driving me crazy!"

You mean that st-ud is drivin' you crrrraaazzyyyyy. You can't stop thinkin' about him. Mmm-mmmm! I love it! I'll have you two together in no time.