A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any related character
Pansy glared at the third year boys sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table. She knew what they were saying about her. This was her seventh year, her final year. It was supposed to be one of her best. Now, everything had fallen apart. She wanted to blame the war, blame Potter, Lord Voldemort, anyone she could think of. She knew it wasn't just that though. Lately she'd started realizing things weren't as black and white as she always believed.
When she'd started Hogwarts, her mum had told her that if she associated with the right kind of people, the whole would would be hers. She'd done that. She's made friends with Draco Malfoy, tried to become more than friends with him. All that had had gotten her was loneliness and heartbreak. She knew he wasn't interested in her like that.
He had taken the Mark last year. He'd bragged about it. Pansy knew what that meant . The idea of being the wife, the girlfriend of a Death Eater sickened her. She'd believed in the beginning. She'd believed blood meant power. Then Hermione Granger had shown up. The muggle-born was just as, if not more, powerful than anyone Pansy had ever known. Maybe blood didn't equal power?
Her fifth year had been the biggest eye-opener. Under the iron-fisted rule of Professor Umbridge, Pansy got her first taste of power. While ratting out their classmates excited her housemates, it had turned her stomach. Not hat she would ever admit it. She had pretended she felt the same as them, pretended torturing people was something she enjoyed. She'd often cried herself to sleep at night after doing just that. She knew then she wasn't cut out for the life she was expected to live.
Now, now she sat alone. She wasn't a Death Eater, or even part of that circle. She wasn't a part of Dumbledore's Army. She was just Pansy Parkinson. Maybe this year despite, or in spite of, the war, she could figure out exactly who she truly was. Then, and only then, she might finally choose a side.