26.

Pansy:

Tac, tac. Tac, tac.

Tic Tac. Tic Tac.

Kaboom!

There are times when Pansy can't help but feel bitter, for example when she looks at her clothes.

Anyone who says that money does not bring happiness is lying. Yes, maybe Hermione makes her feel wonderful, maybe Rachel's nonsense also cheers her up, but she still lacks what made her happy, what was taken from her. Her things. Their memories. Her family. Her life. The way she lost things bothered her. It was hers. How dare they? Why did losing money mean that she also had to give up her things? Should she just be calm and smile as she let others grope and intrude on her life like that?

The memory of her mother's face (indifferent and tired) as she went through her closet and tried to find what was of value there, judging, and even looking at times at her hand, or more specifically, at her ring, still managed to squeeze her chest. and make her want to scream. She felt so angry. It was as if she was running out of tears to mourn, and only sullen resentment remained.

Pansy's fingers slid so fast across the wood of her trunk that they caused a hiss, then stopped suddenly when they reached the neatly folded garments. She squeezed her eyes shut, calming herself, and stroked the fabric as if it were glass. At least she kept quite a few. It's not like her used clothes could make a lot of money (unlike her dresses made by famous designers, or her jewelry, which included things like her diamond-encrusted necklace). She lost at least half of her wardrobe, but she continued to dress well; and by the time they were spent, she hoped to have a wealthy financial life again, albeit one like Hermione's or Potter's.

Maybe you could wear a shirt with a sweater today? And what coat on top? The jacket that reached almost to her knees in length? Or the shorter one, which fit her shoulders better? Pansy grimaced in concentration and then clicked her tongue. She preferred to choose clothes for spring or summer, she was already missing being able to wear a dress...

"Need help?" They asked her, so she turned around.

Rachel was smiling, leaning against the back of her bed. In her hands was that irritating ball that she played with from time to time: throwing it against the wall and catching it repeatedly. The "Tac, tac. Tac, tac" it made as it bounced, reverberating with the echoes of the Slytherin dungeons, was one of the most exasperating things that came to Pansy's mind.

"No," she replied, looking back at her trunk.

Only the two of them were in the room. The rest of her classmates were hanging around Hogwarts (and maybe some of them had already left for Hogsmeade).

"Oh please let me help you with your date."

"It's not a date," she corrected her scathingly.

"It's not?"

Pansy played with the hem of one of her shirts, as if trying to choose one, when she was rather thinking about why Rachel was still here. She had a strong desire to give her a "Shut the fuck up" as she didn't want to talk about such shameful things.

"And what is it then? Dating your girlfriend is a date for me."

Rachel didn't understand the angry babble Pansy answered her with, so she just shook her head as she laughed at her.

She decided on the longer jacket, which was better against the cold, and got dressed. As she reviewed her shoe options, she patted her pockets to see if any paper or currency had been left there, and her hands ran into something: plastic. Puzzled, she looked down as she extracted a small red, cherry-flavored popsicle. The memories came to her like a slap.

On Valentine's Day, she had gone to Honeydukes with Luna, Hermione, and Weasley, with the goal of buying a birthday present for the former. They weren't exactly best friends, but this blonde turned out to have her charm; smart, good company. Sometimes when she is alone in a corner of Hogwarts reading a magazine, Luna finds her by chance. She doesn't say anything to her, just sits next to her and starts doing her own thing, mostly humming a song. And if she's not reading when they bump into each other, she starts talking to her about how her day is going, as if Pansy had asked her (she had not). So, on Valentine's Day, while walking with Luna and the others, she realized the affection she already had for her, for all those shared moments, and she had the impulse to show it in some way. She searched the shelves full of sweets for chocolate, although when she did that, she also saw a jar of different colored lollipops. They weren't very expensive, she could afford some next to the chocolate. She wanted to give Hermione one as a gift, since she was buying something for Luna... She grabbed three, thinking of the two Gryffindors and her, but regretted it, considering that it would be better to make Weasley rage, and was left with only one. Giving Luna the chocolate was easy. Giving the candy to Hermione... It was more difficult. First she gave herself the excuse that it might be very cruel to do that to Weasley to her face, then the fight with Daphne happened, and much later the kiss that blew up all her neurons. And there was the candy, forgotten at the bottom of her pocket.

"Do lollipops have an expiration date?" She asked Rachel.

"How long are we talking about?"

"Valentine's Day."

"That was just now!" She exclaimed. "Feel free, there's low chances that you will die of poisoning."

Pansy put the lollipop back in her coat.

"Are you ready for your date?" Rachel said, smiling.

She rolled her eyes in response, finishing putting on her shoes.

"Don't take too long, surely you don't want to make your girl wait…"

"Are you having fun?" She stopped her.

"Very much so."

Pansy reached for a small mirror so she could put on makeup.

Not that Rachel was wrong, it was technically a date. But she didn't like to think about such things. She was dating Hermione, not "her date". If anything, for Pansy, they had dates almost every day. Many times they saw each other alone to talk, they held hands, they kissed... Why should this be so different? They were going to do the same as what they did at Hogwarts, but atHogsmeade. Calling it a date sounded so stupid and cheesy!

"Are you anxious?" Rachel spoke up. "Because as I recall, they still have two hours to get together."

Pansy's lips tightened. Yes, she was. "It's not a date," but the situation made her a little nervous anyway. Did that even make sense? Since when were her feelings and her head so in conflict, so opposite?

"Will you meet at the castle entrance?"

"No, in Hogsmeade, near the bookstore."

Hermione was already in Hogsmeade, actually. According to the clock, she was already there for half an hour. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had asked her to please help them with some plant shopping (they wanted to surprise Hagrid by giving him some things he could use in his new hobby as a grandmother gardener).

"And still you keep putting on makeup?" Rachel insisted.

"I'll go early, too," she clarified, moving her lips so that the lipstick was even.

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to go crazy if I stay here with you."

Rachel laughed.

. . .

In front of Pansy appeared Madam Puddifoot's disgusting Tea Shop. "I think this is the third time I've been here," she thought. She'd been wandering around Hogsmeade too much aimlessly, not knowing what to do to kill time, but preferring wandering to standing still.

She made a strange face as she looked in the foggy windows: the gaudy tables and chairs were already occupied by teenagers holding hands; several of them, surrounded by pink and white, and decorated with flowers and ruffles, were kissing, making the scene even more grotesque. She took a couple of steps back, confirming that she would die rather than ever set foot in that place, and she continued walking. It was better to go to the bookstore now, it would be a little while for Hermione to go there too.

A tinkling of a bell caught her attention, coming from the door of the premises to her right (the Post Office). A tall figure stepped out of there, and her eyes met his. She did not expect to meet Isaac and least of all, that he would greet her:

"Hi," the boy stroked his neck before continuing: "Parkinson, right? Pansy Parkinson."

"Uh... yeah. Hi."

Her mind began to work quickly: "What was his last name? Rachel lives moaning Isaac's name, what was it difficult for her to say his last name as well?"

"Rymer," he introduced himself. "Isa Rymer."

"Isa?" She repeated, arching an eyebrow in the process. "I thought it was Isaac."

The boy shrugged. Being so tall, it was a gesture that overflowed insecurity. Was he really popular with girls?

"I prefer to be called by my nickname."

Pansy nodded, she didn't understand why, but she didn't care enough to ask why.

"Are you alone?" Isa said, approaching her so as not to have to speak so loudly.

"I'll get together with someone in a while." Pansy didn't understand the purpose of this social interaction.

"Me too."

She nodded, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at this uncharismatic subject. She looked to the side, in a hint of wanting to leave.

"Do you think we could wait together?"

"Why does misfortune haunt me?" she thought. She tried to think of a reason why she should say no, but it only occurred to her that he had been present during the fight with Daphne. Maybe he wanted to talk about it?

"Sure," she answered politely, admitting to herself that he had done nothing wrong and did not deserve her to be so harsh with him.

"Sometimes I am kind," she mused with a smile, ignoring the fact that she was, deep down, acting driven by curiosity, wanting to know his intentions. Isa, who at the moment had no mind-reading skills, understood the gesture as one directed at him, and smiled in response as well.

They both made their way to a nearby bench, Pansy taking the opportunity to stretch her legs. Isa clasped his hands, still in an unsure posture. As he did not speak, and she did not overflow with patience, she said:

"Did you want to talk to me about something in particular?"

Isa looked up, expectant and speechless.

"We never pay much attention to each other. So spill, did Daphne say something?"

"I wanted to know if you were okay."

"What? Why?" She questioned, crossing her arms.

"I don't want you to think... I didn't want to bother you that day." His generally hoarse voice sounded even more serious, evidencing the guilt he felt.

Pansy frowned, in disbelief, what kind of idiot apologizes for something he didn't do? But at Isa's worried reaction, she relaxed the gesture.

"You didn't do anything."

"I'm not good at reacting to unforeseen things. But I should have insisted that Daphne leave." His tone dropped to a stammer. "I'm a year older than you, I should have been more responsible."

"Blame it on Daphne. Don't worry."

"We're fine then?"

Pansy shrugged.

"I didn't pay much attention to you, to tell the truth. The only thing I thought of you on Valentine's Day is that you must have been crazy to want to be the boyfriend of that …"

"Excuse me," he stopped her, using a tone so low it might as well have been ignored, "but I have several things to correct. I only dated Daphne that day, and I don't feel like doing it again, she's insane. And I'm not a boy, I'd rather you don't refer to me that way."

If Pansy had been holding something, she would have dropped it.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I do not identify with the masculine gender, I am a non-binary person."

"No, not that," she said, waving her hand as if she were shooing a fly away, "do you think Daphne is insane?"

Isa was looking at Pansy now like she was the crazy one. But soon, their disbelief turned into laughter.

"Why did you go on a date with her then?" Pansy asked, already deeper into the conversation.

"She's cute."

Pansy snorted in response.

"A few days before Valentine's Day I was rehearsing with the band" Isa stopped. "I have one, I don't know if you knew."

"Half Hogwarts knows. They're pretty good," she admitted.

"Draco is friends with our bass player, so they both stopped by for a drink and a chat. And she seemed to me a very frank, free girl…"

"And on Valentine's Day she showed her fangs," Pansy teased.

"Basically," they laughed. "Nothing happened, right? I left and …"

Isa's cheeks suddenly took on color, remembering their flight like a hen.

"It's fine, she hasn't bothered me since, I think being ambushed by so many Gryffindors was too much for her."

"Wasn't there a Ravenclaw too?"

"Okay, yes. Luna, the Weasleys, Hermione." Her tongue stuck and her face began to go pale. "Hermione!" She screeched, standing abruptly. "What time is it?"

Isa got scared and looked at the watch on their wrist.

"A quarter past one."

"I'm going," she blurted.

"Do you have to go now?"

Pansy didn't answer, she bolted straight for the bookstore. Isa's "See you at Hogwarts then..." hung in the air.

By the time there were a few yards to go to reach Hermione, she knew what awaited her. She ran as fast as she could, but that didn't make time go back so she could be on time. The Gryffindor stood with her arms folded, looking around impatiently.

"I'm here," Pansy panted.

Hermione gave her an icy look and didn't respond as she fixed her jacket and the rest of her appearance, which had been left untidy by the sprint and the wind.

"It was only fifteen minutes," she said to minimize it, though it was obvious that she was undoubtedly annoyed.

"Well done Parkinson" she scolded herself, "you are the only person on Earth who is ready two hours early and is still late, and worse, the only one who can think of being late with Hermione Granger."

"Shall we walk?" She suggested, with the smoothness of a glacier about to collide with a ship.

Pansy nodded, her breathing already even. Out of the corner of her eye she tried to decipher Hermione. There must be something, something to save her from this mess... An excuse! Come on, Slytherin brain, a solution! And fast!

For now, what she was sure of was that touching her when she was this mad would be a bad idea, so she shoved her hands into her pockets, accidentally colliding with a plastic stick. A sly smile appeared on her face.

"You're not going to ask me what kept me?"

"You were busy with something more important, clearly." Hermione was unwilling to lower her barriers.

"Well, yes, I was busy with something important."

That got Hermione's attention, who fixed her eyes on her. Her smile widened, putting the lioness next to her in a worse mood. Pansy took her hand out of her pocket, putting the little red candy between them.

"For you," she said and Hermione's face went from hatred to astonishment, ending with a blush on her face. While the other was still speechless, she took advantage: "I wanted to give you something, but there was quite a line. I guess I misjudged the time. It was a bad idea, right?"

"Oh Pansy, no," she whispered. "Thanks. I didn't think that you... I thought…"

"I was foolishly wasting my time?" She helped her, making the most innocent face she could. "Who do you take me for?"

Maybe lying was wrong, but a white lie that generated such a bright and cheerful smile on Hermione couldn't be all wrong.

"You didn't have to," she murmured sheepishly, then looked into her eyes. "I got mad at you without you deserving it."

"It's okay," she said in a relaxed tone, though inside Pansy wanted to pat herself on the back and throw a party for being so smart.

To her surprise, Hermione reached for her hand and entwined it with hers.

"What would you like to do?" Hermione asked, with renewed good humor, though she didn't bother to listen to her answer before pulling her, looking around the shops and wondering what she preferred.

Pansy was feeling blissful, so they may as well have gone to a garbage can and she wouldn't have complained. Suddenly, Hermione backed away, staring at the bookstore.

"A sign said they already had new McQuaid books available, she's getting a bit famous lately, she won the best mystery book award; It came out in The Daily Prophet" the surety with which she spoke turned to doubt. "Anyway, you didn't answer. What do you want to do?"

It was obvious what Hermione wanted to do, so Pansy dragged her with her, to take her to the bookstore.

"We don't have to go there if you don't want to, I know it can be a bit boring to go to..."

"How can that be boring? McQuaid made me unable to fall asleep from fear with her book. It was great!"

"She writes about mystery, not horror …"

"Oh shut up," she growled, as Hermione giggled.

. . .

"Her descriptions are sublime."

"Wow, sublime," Pansy scoffed. "With that word you make it sound more wonderful than it is."

"It's amazing! Her way of creating the universe is so rich in lexicon, her way of showing places is so beautiful…"

Pansy rolled her eyes, a smile framing her face. Hermione brought the lollipop back to her mouth. Now that they were out of the shop, she could eat it (opening the candy in the middle of so many books would have been a clear request for them to be thrown out).

"The plot is a thousand times better. You'd think that the typical serial killer story would even be predictable, and she comes in and does that outrageous thing! I still can't believe the killer was always among the aurors. No clues pointed to it. But in the end it all came together."

"Your critique is too subjective …"

"And you are a pedant."

Hermione wasted no time in hitting her arm with her elbow, as she was too busy to do it with her hands (one of them hugging Pansy's arm and the other busy with the candy).

"Come on, I'm tired of walking," the Slytherin asked.

Although Hermione didn't know it, she had been to Hogsmeade too many times in one day, and she felt like going up and down the castle stairs tomorrow would be torture.

They leaned against a concrete railing that enclosed a couple of buildings. It was a quiet section of Hogsmeade, being part of the edge of town. A soft creak caught Pansy's attention. Hermione bit into her lollipop, which was already much thinner.

"You'll break your teeth doing that," she warned.

Hermione rolled her eyes and bit back into the candy.

"Yesterday you told me that we would take advantage of the day and later in the afternoon we could go with your friends," she commented.

"If you feel like it, yes," she said, and reinforced her words by nodding. "They are also your friends Pansy."

She smiled, as she was sure she couldn't make her change her mind. Not that Hermione's friends disliked her, but at most Luna was close enough to her to possess such a title.

She was about to ask if she had agreed to a specific time with them, but was distracted when she saw how Hermione released the plastic stick already without candy from between her teeth, and searched in her pocket for the wrapper to put it in it and throw everything away later. But that last thing Pansy saw out of the corner of her eye, as her eyes stayed stuck in her mouth. When Hermione noticed what she was paying attention to, she blushed, but ended up mimicking her as well. A sideways smile, and something smug, escaped her, and she moved closer to her. Hermione's hand rested on her cheek, which Pansy took as a clear message to close the space between their mouths.

Hermione was neat, the kind of person who could eat a lollipop without leaving her lips sticky, so stroking them was as gentle as all the other times they had already kissed. When her lower lip was pulled almost imperceptibly, a sigh escaped her; because anything, no matter how minimal, that Hermione did to that sensitive part of her skin would be like launching a bombardment straight to the stomach. So when she felt her tongue ask permission to kiss her more deeply, not only her stomach, but her brain as well, they felt as if they had been incinerated in the fire of an explosion. She wasn't sure if she felt overstimulated by the taste or by the novelty and giddiness of being wrong, but it was sweet torture, a risk she was dying to take. It was all too addictive, because of the cherry flavor that lingered in the other's mouth. Pansy tried to adjust herself, as her posture was tiring her, and doing so caused her teeth to collide. She opened her eyes immediately, in shame, separating less than an inch from Hermione and meeting with a slightly furrowed brow, not from annoyance, but concentration, in the same way she usually always does when reading a book. It was a curious detail that almost made her laugh, if it weren't for the fact that her lips were claimed again. She dared, again, to explore. Her breath felt hot, she smelled sweet. Her hand, which until now had been clinging to Hermione's coat, went up to anchor themselves on her neck and open her mouth a little more to deepen the kiss, or rather, give better access to the other to do so, because she was traveling that part of her with a dedication and rigidity typical of a meticulous study; she couldn't impose herself even if she tried (and it didn't bother her, too much).

When Pansy felt her move away from her, feeling the cold of winter again against her already sensitive lips, she shuddered. And breathed. Her head snapped back to that, that air existed. Luckily Hermione's mind was more alert, even in those kinds of situations.

"So?" She cleared her throat, understanding that the other would not speak, and uncomfortable doing nothing. "When do we get together with your friends?"

"Later," Hermione murmured, not taking her eyes off the other's mouth.

Pansy was about to scoff, but the joke stuck in her throat as Hermione moved forward and recaptured her mouth in a burst of sensation.