Draco proposed to her that day.

It was in early May, nearly the end of seventh year when he had knelt down in the Slytherin common room and asked her to marry him.

Naturally, she had squealed in excitement, threw her arms around him, and said yes.

They had walked to breakfast in the Great Hall, smiling hand in hand, and were surrounded by well wishers immediately.

Four other proposals had been made at Hogwarts already, and people were used to them by now.

But the day seemed to drag on unnaturally slowly for her as she trudged through morning lessons and ate lunch. When Pansy finally came to dinner, her nerves had been worn down to a state of almost mush.

She had not been able to concentrate properly on her lessons at all and was extremely agitated, as she could not even pinpoint the exact reason for her distraction.

The more lenient professors had passed it off as the nervousness of a new bride, but nervousness was mild to what she was feeling.

Things she had never even bothered to think about were suddenly crashing in around her. Had she wasted her childhood? What was married life going to be like? Was this how her daughter would feel come her wedding day? Did she even want to get married?

The last question was pushed out of her mind almost as quickly as it came.

Her duty was to ensure a good match, and Draco was as good as they came, she supposed. Her future was assured now, and a life of luxury spread before her.

She would miss the school though, that she knew. This was her home. She had enjoyed her time here immensely, not that anyone else, especially the teachers, knew it. She'd miss the days of scheming with her friends, the nights of sneaking out, and the thrill of getting caught. Merlin, she'd probably miss complaining about studying too.

Pansy rolled her eyes. Only a few hours after being proposed to and she was already getting sentimental. She was an only child, so the friends she had made here were like her family. She would miss seeing them too.

But most of all, she'd miss the odd little room she had found on the seventh floor, which had, over time, become her haven.

----

Pansy had stumbled upon it quite accidentally. She had been wandering the halls, thinking about the discussion she had heard in her common room. Purebloods were becoming rarer and rarer, and in turn, finding a good match wasn't getting any easier.

Society was built on good acquaintances and alliances, and without any, you were ensured of being shunned from the highest of circles.

Now, however, there was another outlet. By giving your services to the Dark Lord, you ensured a position in the elite, no matter if you were a lowly servant or the Lord's second in command.

Obviously, this idea was very appealing to people. While musing if that choice was better than marriage, she had noticed a narrow doorway, and decided to peek in.

When she stepped inside, her break was taken away. It was a fairly small room, walls colored a deep purple, with a vast number of lighted candles in it. There was a low, round oak table set off in to corner, with a platter of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on top of it. Plushy bean bags chairs of different colors were set around the room, and a small book was found on the windowsill behind the table.

Pansy had opened it up to find that the book was actually some kind of diary. Flipping through it, she found that 10 or so 'people' that had been writing entries it. The diary was sectioned off equally for each person that had written in it, and Pansy did not return to the common room that night, instead devouring the tales written on the little book.

These tales were those of heartbreak, and anguish, and of duty too. Concepts that Pansy was all too familiar with. As time went on, new entries were made in the diary regularly, and she felt a kind closeness with these people that she had rarely felt with anyone before. After all, her even her most loyal friendships were guarded. She knew it was silly, being so attached to these characters in ink and parchment. After all, she wasn't even sure if they existed or not.

Yet, after the incident earlier in the year with Neville, she had run straight to this room, grabbed a self-inking quill that had been on the table where it had not been before, and poured out her heart. A new section had appeared in the back of the book, and Pansy had filled it without a thought of why this new section had appeared. After all, this was Hogwarts, and many a stranger thing had happened.

She had written into the early dawn, and felt much better. Any time she felt as though she needed someone to talk to, the diary was always there. The room was her sanctuary, and even though she felt sad leaving it, the tales of the others had taught her one thing. Move on, and do so with grace.

----

Pansy's appetite returning a little more, she dug in to the mashed potatoes on her plate, trying her very hardest not to think about a certain brown haired boy sitting three tables away from her.

Maybe she'd sneak up there on the last day and take the diary with her. Yes, that's what she'd do. Her mind made up, she gulped down her pumpkin juice with renewed fervor.

If she had bothered to turn to her left where her husband-to-be was sitting, she would have noticed that he seemed no more at peace than her.