Pansy awoke once the sun climbed high enough to reach her bed. She felt much better to her own amazement, perfectly fine in fact. She heard voices outside, but didn't care enough to investigate. Instead she paced around the room a bit and then returned to bed to lie awake and think while gazing intently at the apple remnant on the bedside table. Sure, her ailment was completely lifted, but with it went the aspirations she possessed during her brief strife, and not to mention the false notion that she was being cared for. It was a nice feeling, or just a thought of unclear origin, Pansy pondered. She longed for more of those, but now it was back to the dreary prospect of her future.
Granger must have brought the medicine, then left like she intended, Pansy realized. Hermione… Pansy thought, she was a little more than a still picture on the other side of the room, but a reoccurring thought in lack of any other. She'd know what to do now or at least have a suggestion that Pansy would be willing to accept. Even if it all just led in circles it beats standing in place. Yes, Pansy would ask to come along in awkward silence and lose that last bit of unsettling dignity.
But wherever Granger was right now, she surely didn't lie in bed and thought trough things that weren't an option. That was Pansy's very own folly. She'd want what's out of reach, and when she got it, it would decay. Then there'd be this void inside her, inexplicable and only to be filed by some bad habit. Pansy sighed.
This all seemed so unavoidable, only washed away by the property of time. So by that same nature of existence Pansy stood up to pace around the room, being able to walk now and needing to, but also unable to face anyone outside. She looked around not to lose her mind, even venturing into the single square wardrobe that stood ominously in the corner since they got here. Eventually she stretched her arm out under Granger's bed. There was a backpack, surprisingly left behind, as well as a torn, regretful letter she supposedly wrote. What would compel her to do that, and furthermore stop so abruptly? Pansy wondered when suddenly the door cracked open.
Pansy quickly stuffed the scraps of the letter under her pillow and turned back to see a very tattered and tired looking Hermione. Her arm was bandaged down to her elbow and probably in a worse condition than her singed fingers. There was also a large bruise on her cheek.
"Hmmm… what happened?" Pansy had to ask.
"Never mind." Hermione said blandly, struggling to keep her eyes open. "Are you alright?" She followed up with a question of her own as she undid the belt of her muddy black robe.
"Yea…" Pansy nodded confusedly.
"Good." Hermione let her dirt stained outfit fall on the floor. Stripped down to her underwear she dropped down on her bed and covered herself with a thin white sheet. "Close the shutters, will you?" She managed before going still.
Pansy did as Hermione requested while wondering what had so physically and emotionally drained her. Pansy wasn't stupid, it was clear to her that something happened here, or went on still, so she got dressed and went down to get some answers. She rushed out of the empty inn and circled around to find a small tent set up in the back.
Once she entered the enchanted tent, she found it to be roughly the size of a quidditch field and packed full of people. Pansy immediately felt overwhelmed with numerous voices that intertwined into a single buzzing symphony. She moved trough the crowd nearly recognizing some of the faces and the uniforms they wore until madam Rose cut across her path.
Rose took her hand and sat her down on a couple of nearby crates. She explained everything, assuring Pansy that she was never in any danger. She only received a mixture which induced a fever and some severe symptoms so Hermione would be convinced to help out the cause.
Pansy's was quiet as she took in all this information, but her face flashed with expressions of anger and confusion numerous times. Most of all, Pansy was puzzled by the fact that Granger actually risked her own life to save hers. Perhaps she did feel a sense of obligation because Pansy's escape plan had gotten them out. Then again, the irony was obvious as everyone else in that labour camp was now here, and probably without cuts and broken ankles.
As Pansy stared down with a blank expression, Rose still held onto her hand, observing her expression for a sign of forgiveness or understanding. "You know, you've got a real friend in Hermione and that's rare. Be sure to thank her…"
"She's sleeping." Pansy said absentmindedly. When she stood up and turned towards the exit a familiar face was angrily approaching her. She recognised the young Ilvermorny wizard who without a warning swung his fist at her punching Pansy in the mouth. At once her lip split open and started gushing out blood.
Rose quickly reacted. She drew her wand and pushed him back.
"I have nothing against you ma'am, but you have to let me go!" He raged twitching to break free from Rose's charm that now restrained him. "This bitch is responsible for death of my parents! She tricked us I tell you!" He shouted while Pansy ran for the exit holding a hand over her bleeding mouth.
The voice faded away as Pansy ran out of the tent, but its echo followed her still, even as she pressed the cloth against her lip gazing back at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She did what she had to do to survive, she assured herself. The old Pansy wouldn't bat an eye. She was invincible, entitled, but no longer present, merely a memory and unable to be coaxed back for assistance.
Though it wasn't really guilt that made Pansy pack her backpack, she couldn't delude herself. It was simply fear of what she'd have to face. This situation wouldn't just blow over and once Granger got word of it she'd surely turn away as well. It'd be best to leave now before the unavoidable shame and exile, so Pansy grabbed a napkin from her drawer and left a short note for Hermione on her bedside table.