Pansy Parkinson was a 16 year old girl attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her lanky, ten year old appearance had been replaced as the other girls of her age had growth spurts of their own and caught up with her. She was now of medium height and had long, fair hair scraped back into a severe ponytail. Some of the girls she shared a dorm with had posters of pop bands or quidditch stars that they liked on the walls. The wall near Pansy's bed was blank. She didn't care about music or quidditch. She went about with her mouth slack and her lips slightly parted wearing a blank expression on her face. The only time those eyes lit up was when she was hurling an insult at someone she didn't like, which was practically everyone. But right now she was in potions class, and if anyone had cared to look they would see a girl who looked like she neither knew nor cared where she was. As her Professor's soft voice rustled on unheard in the background a strange thought was forming in Pansy's mind. "If I disappeared from the world this instant, nobody would notice I had gone". Now, anonymity had always been part of her life in Hogwarts. There was a groups of girls that Pansy could often be seen with that an observer might describe as her friends, but she knew that they only wanted her there to increase their numbers. "Like a pack of wolves" she thought. Nobody felt anything in particular for her. Tolerance, irritation, mild dislike. She knew she meant these things to different people as she listed her teachers and fellow students in her head. She only had one real friend and when she felt this down she was sure that he must have an ulterior motive. But why was this bothering her all of a sudden? Did she want more friends? Popularity? No. A feeling of confusion and dread was creeping up from her stomach as she stared at the back Hermione Granger's head. It was her. She wanted to see something other than annoyance and distaste in Her eyes. She wanted Hermione to look at her with admiration. She tried to rationalize this ridiculous feeling. It's Hermione Granger. She's in Gryffindor, she thinks she knows everything, she's prideful, aloof -but you like that-. She sqeezed her eyes shut. She was shaking a little when Professor Snape's voice cut through her brooding thoughts: "Miss Parkinson, would you answer the question?" It was not the note of menace in a disregarded Professor's voice that filled her with horror that moment but for a split second she thought that her secret thoughts had been revealed before the whole room. The irrational terror passed but it had not gone unnoticed by Pansy's teacher. It was in a barely less icy tone that he added "Some fresh air perhaps, Parkinson?" She nodded, got quickly up and walked briskly out of the room nearly bumping into someone's desk along the way. A small act of kindness from Professor Snape was quite an unbelievable occurrence, even for a student from his favoured house but this paled in comparison with the dreadful question that was opening up an abyss within her: Was she falling in love with Hermione Granger?