A/N: I don't own Harry Potter
Word count: 329
Pansy was proud of the patches on her denim jacket. She'd collected them, sewn them to the denim, some were to cover up rips or tears, some were reminders. They showed where she'd been, what she'd survived. They reminded her of scars, of little marks that happened in the past, but affected the future. She'd never thought about her future when she'd been younger, thinking it was all laid out for her. She'd been wrong about that.
She remembered the first time she'd done something dangerous, something without magic. She'd never thought doing things the muggle way would be the one thing that brought back her magic. It had never been the same since her sister disappeared. Maybe that had been part of it, part of her doing these things, maybe somehow, she'd find Orchid, bring her home. She knew it was foolish, that her sister was gone forever. Part of her even doubted Orchid was still alive. She ignored that part when she could.
Now, Pansy had done things that no one else in the wizarding world would understand; rock climbing, jumping from a perfectly safe place, being on said plane in the first place. She smiled, running her fingers through her black hair. There were purple streaks in it at the moment. She'd learned about muggle hair dye, how it was more permanent than any charm. She liked the idea of something being permanent, something that wouldn't just vanish.
Now, she was going to do the one thing that scared her more than anything she'd done. She'd found where Hermione was working now, a small building, an outpost really. She'd done death defying things, asking Hermione Granger out on a date shouldn't scare her this much, but now that she'd found herself, she knew what she wanted, who she wanted, and like the rest of her life, she wasn't going to live in fear. She was Pansy Parkinson and she was in charge of her own destiny.