Days passed mosaic-like:
Slughorn watched them brew with satisfaction, like a fat spider watching flies struggle on his web.
Flitwick squeaked through a lecture on navigation charms, face barely visible over the pile of papers on his desk.
Draco disappeared from the dining hall at lunch, skin drawn too tight, too pale over his cheekbones.
Snape prowled batlike among them as they tried (unsuccessfully mostly) to master wordless magic. To no one's surprise, Granger succeeded first. Pansy watched the look of sheer joy flit across her face and then hurriedly looked away as she directed her proud grin Pansy's way.
Their candle lit conversations grew longer, stretched tendrils into topics like Celestina Warbeck, childhood fears and dentistry (how anyone would allow some stranger to go poking around in their mouth with sharp bits of metal was beyond Pansy).
Good, bad, somewhere in between - colour bled into each moment and made it all matter.
Hogsmeade came and Pansy trudged happily through the snow, one arm around Blaise and one around Daphne. The little shops wore caps of snow and Madam Rosmerta's butterbeer was sweeter than usual. Even Draco made a stiff appearance at their table for a short while. When they burst through the castle doors that evening, laughing uproariously at Daphne's impersonation of Goyle mooning over Madam Rosmerta, Pansy knew something was wrong immediately. Their laughter felt foreign and unwelcome in the empty castle.
"Somethings off," said Blaise, sobering up.
"Yeah," said Pansy. She watched a group of Hufflepuff's hurry past shrouded in hushed whispers but could not make out any of their conversation.
Daphne's eyes were worried. "I don't like it. Let's go to the common room."
Their footsteps echoed louder than usual in the otherwise silent hallways as they made their way to the dungeons. Not even halfway there, a classroom door swung open in front of them and Professor Snape swooped out. Potter stormed out next, jaw set and hair messier than usual. Hermione and Weasley followed cautiously.
"Hermione!" called out Pansy without much thought.
Hermione glanced back and lifted a hand in greeting as she saw Pansy.
"Go on. I'll find you in the common room," she said to Potter and Weasley (both of whom were glaring at the Slytherins suspiciously). Blaise, bless his soul, shot Pansy a far too knowing look before taking Daphne by the arm and steering her towards the dungeons.
"Hi," said Pansy as the exhausted looking Gryffindor approached her. Worry was written all over Hermione's face and in the stiff curl of her shoulders.
"Do you know what's happening? We only just got back."
"It's horrible," sighed Hermione. "Katie - Katie Bell? Someone gave her a cursed necklace in Hogsmeade."
A loud ringing had started in Pansy's ears.
"A cursed necklace?"
"Yeah, luckily she didn't touch it but it's - God it's awful. She could have died," said Hermione, voice cracking slightly. "They don't even know if she'll wake up."
The ringing was growing louder and it suddenly felt as if there wasn't enough air in the room.
"Why would someone try to curse Bell?" asked Pansy through a dry mouth.
"They didn't. She was supposed to give it to Professor Dumbledore but she, well, she never made it that far."
That foolish boy. That stupid stupid dangerous boy. Bile rose in Pansy's throat along with the knowledge that she could not do nothing. She could not go back to the common room and pretend like all was well. Where could she go? Blaise wouldn't be of much help. Professor Snape? No, he was one of them. She might not wake up.
Dumbledore. She would have to go to bloody Dumbledore.
"Pansy are you okay?" Hermione's voice came from miles away.
"Yeah I just, I need to go to Dumbledore."
"He's not here."
"Well where the fuck is he?" demanded Pansy as anger exploded inside her. Why was that man always missing when he was needed most?
"I'm not sure, but he'll be back soon. Are you okay, Pansy? You're shaking."
She was shaking. Pansy wanted to scream that she wasn't like Granger or her friends. She didn't have unlimited reserves of bravery and honour. Her very limited supply was just enough to get her to Dumbledore and now the blasted man wasn't even here. Whatever resolve she did possess felt as though it was in danger of leaking out of her entirely. She wanted to scream and also sob but there was not enough air in the hallway to do any of that. The creases on Hermione's forehead grew deeper. She stepped closer, was suddenly far too close, the only thing Pansy could see. Putting both hands on Pansy's shoulders, she spoke softly. "Pansy, listen to me. It's okay. You're okay. Professor Dumbledore will be back soon and I'll take you to him, okay?" Her steady tone was soothing and after a few minutes of contact Pansy felt her heartbeat slow down and her breathing even out.
"I need a smoke," she said finally.
Hermione's laugh sounded distinctly relieved. "Alright. Where can we get one of those?"
Hermione didn't ask where they were going. She took the offered hand and allowed Pansy to lead. Her hand was soft and warm and so much smaller than Dracos. The castle was deserted. No one was around to see that their fingers laced together as if they were tailor made for it.
Finally, they reached the Astronomy tower and Hermione raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything as they started the trek up the winding staircase. At the very top they found themselves under open sky, with only a few tall turrets between them and certain death. Below them sprawled the snow covered castle grounds and the frozen lake, shimmering like a sheet of black silk. Pansy let go of Hermione's hand to pull a box of cigarettes out of her robes.
"I come here sometimes when I can't sleep. It's the furthest place you can get from the dungeons and when I was younger I used to think that would help somehow." Lighting the cigarette with her wand, she inhaled deeply and offered the cigarette to Hermione. "It still makes me feel better now."
Hermione took a tentative puff and immediately burst into a fit of violent coughing.
"I can't imagine the same girl who called me a mudblood needing a place to escape to," she wheezed once the coughing subsided.
"Really? You think a child being that much of a bitch is normal?"
Hermione snorted at this but her expression turned sad. "I used to feel sorry for you sometimes, you know. When I wasn't furious or crying."
"God, you're insufferable. A first year is not allowed to be that noble."
"Don't worry, I daydreamed about hexing you plenty too."
Pansy laughed. Inhaled more smoke and then laughed more. And Hermione joined and they laughed together more than the joke probably deserved. At some point, when they had sunk to the floor next to each other, passing the cigarette back and forth and giggling in between puffs, they both realized that they were not laughing at Hermione's comment but at the children they had been and the hatred that had seemed all important then but was insignificant in the face of the horror they both knew was coming.
"You were a bitch," agreed Hermione. "But you've been different for a while now."
Pansy felt a burning in her throat that was probably just smoke but felt something like a rush of courage. "So have you," she said.
"Different?" Hermione hiccuped.
"Like something is wrong, besides the obvious. You and the Golden Trio seem a little… Off."
"Oh, that," said Hermione, frowning. "It's nothing really."
"You don't have to tell me."
"No no, it's okay. It's just Ronald. He has a girlfriend and they're... Not that I expected anything! But well, he's an arse."
"That's it? You really have been moping around because of that ginger?" asked Pansy, hardly able to believe her ears.
"Don't speak about him like that," snapped Hermione, instantly on the defensive.
"I didn't mean it as an insult," said Pansy, exasperated and only halfway lying. "I just didn't even know you liked him."
Hermione let out a cynical laugh. "Why would you know anything about a mudblood's social life?"
Ignoring the barb, Pansy continued, "I mean he's funny, sure, and sweet enough but you're just wrong together. Any fool could see that."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, unconvinced and probably considering leaving. Pansy flushed, knowing that this was not the time, that she was making a fool of herself but seemingly committed to digging herself deeper into a truly mortifying grave.
"Look, he's Quidditch in the middle of summer and you're a rainy day in the library. He's never going to argue with you about the comprehensiveness of Dumbledore's treatise on the twelve uses of dragons' blood or take the welfare of elves as seriously as you do, and not because he's not a good or smart person but because you have this fire - " and now Pansy was rushing, tripping over her words. She could see Hermione's eyes widening and a slight blush on her cheeks and this just made the words come rushing out more frantically.
"You have this fire inside you but you also have this cool, like the edge of a knife. You can be cruel and his ego will never survive it but you get angry about things that matter and you care about things like no one else does and I don't know where you get the energy from because there's so much to care about once you get started but you do it anyway. And you don't just care, you work. You pour your whole self into everything you care about and you hold nothing back, even when you probably should. And Weasley, he cares but not like you. No one does, I didn't even know people could until I met you," Pansy finished, her breath suddenly gone.
A moment passed.
And then another.
And then Pansy panicked. Stood up and walked straight for the door thinking shit shit shitshitshit only for it to slam shut in her face.
She turned around slowly, the proverbial deer in the wand light. Hermione was standing, staring at her. A little stricken, a little calculating.
"How do you know all of that? Why do you know all of that?"
"It's difficult to miss," said Pansy, ignoring the second question and staring resolutely at a spot somewhere over Hermione's head.
Hermione took a tentative step forward, "I didn't know you were watching that carefully."
Pansy didn't say anything. The brightest witch of their generation didn't need another answer from her to figure this one out.
"I just - Ron and I. I always thought we'd end up together- "
"I understand," interrupted Pansy. Mortified is a strong word, but sometimes an accurate one. Pansy found herself desperately wishing that the Astronomy Tower would develop a serious structural flaw and send both of them careening to their death.
"You do?" asked Hermione, looking almost comically surprised.
Perhaps, thought Pansy, there was a God after all because she was spared the humiliation of continuing this conversation by the sight of a tall bearded figure striding across the grounds below them.
"That's Dumbledore, I should go." Pansy left the tower with the feeling of Hermione's gaze on her back.
"Albus."
"Wrong password."
"Harry."
"Incorrect password."
Pansy stood face to face with the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The ugly thing refused to let her up without a password and Pansy, who was trying desperately to pretend that nothing unusual and horribly embarrassing had happened just a few minutes ago, was growing increasingly frustrated.
"Pip pip cheerio."
"Wrong password."
"I love muggles."
"No."
"Just let me the fuck in!" she snarled through gritted teeth, a few seconds away from trying out a blasting curse on the smug gargoyle.
"Miss Parkinson."
Pansy whipped around to find Dumbledore standing behind her, an amused look on his face. This was shaping up to be a spectacular day.
"Those were impressive guesses. I shall have to make them my password sometime soon."
"I'm sorry, Professor," Pansy said stiffly, face on fire. "I saw you return to the castle and thought you would be in your office."
"I had to confer with Professor McGonagall briefly," said Dumbledore and then - bizarrely, "Every flavour beans."
"Er-"
Pansy was interrupted by the sound of stone grinding against stone as the gargoyle sprang to life and moved aside to reveal a spiral staircase.
"Shall we?"
Pansy nodded, typical of the man to have such an inane password, and followed Dumbledore up the stairs and into his office. Taking a seat, Pansy found herself oddly calm for someone about to betray her family and house.
"Well, Miss Parkinson. I assume from what I have just witnessed that you wish to discuss something quite important," said Dumbledore, surveying Pansy over steepled fingers from behind his desk.
"Yes," said Pansy. "It's about Katie Bell."
Dumbledore waited.
"I know who gave her the cursed necklace."
At this, the old wizard's eyes began to twinkle. Some small part of Pansy wondered if he used a charm to get them to do that.
"Do share, Miss Parkinson," he said.
Deep breath. "It was Draco. And he did it to get to you. The Dark Lord -" Pansy paused, reconsidered. "Voldemort has ordered him to kill you."
Dumbledore's expression did not change.
"You already know," said Pansy as realisation dawned.
"Pansies are simple but remarkably resilient flowers," said Dumbledore finally. "I'm afraid your life has been anything but simple, Miss Parkinson, but you have done your namesake proud."
Leaning over his desk he continued, "Thank you for sharing this with me, but I must ask you not to speak of our meeting to anyone outside this room." His expression was uncharacteristically serious as he uttered his next words. "In return, I give you my word that I will do everything within my power to help Draco."
Pansy nodded. She was not sure how Dumbledore knew that Draco needed help and she was not sure if even he, great wizard that he was, could help Draco now but the sincerity behind his half-moon spectacles was reassuring.
"Very well then, if that is all?" Dumbledore asked, smiling once more.
"Yes, that's all. Thank you, Professor," said Pansy, standing to leave. As she reached the door, Dumbledore made a curious remark.
"We really do sort too soon."
Pansy turned but it seemed as if he was addressing one of the portraits behind his desk.
When Pansy stepped off the spiral staircase, she found Hermione leaning against the corridor wall. The curly haired girl straightened when she saw Pansy.
"So, what did you need to speak to Professor Dumbledore about?" Hermione asked.
"I can't tell you that."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. Pansy could see that the other girl was struggling to contain her instinct to demand answers.
"You were right," said Pansy, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "There are still choices, there always are. And I just made one. The right one, I think."
Hermione blinked. And then she surged forward and before Pansy could quite comprehend what was happening, they were kissing. Hermione's body was pressed against hers in a way that just made sense and her hands were in her hair and her lips were urgent and so so soft and they were kissing. All too soon, Hermione pulled away.
"I - you didn't let me finish at the tower."
Pansy laughed breathlessly. "Well go on then."
"I suppose I always thought Ron and I'd end up together. And then this year, with Harry and Ginny, well I thought that we could be a family," Hermione explained. Pansy made a mental note to ask Hermione about Potter and the Weasley girl - later though. Definitely later
"But you're right, of course. We don't make any sense together, Ron and I, I mean. He's my best friend and he's wonderful but he's not - he's not this."
A warm feeling was spreading from Pansy's lips and the place on her neck where Hermione's fingers had rested to every other part of her body.
"What I'm trying to say is that I thought this was all predetermined but it turns out I had a choice to make too. And I've just made it," said Hermione firmly. "If that's alright with you."
Pansy laughed again. A short sound full of disbelief and then she closed the distance between their lips. The brightest witch of their generation ought not to need any clearer an answer than this.
In that moment, there were no greys. Everything was full colour. Pansy Parkinson had found something to believe in.
A/N: It's finished! This is the first fanfic I've ever written and I'm so grateful for those of you who have followed, favourited or reviewed. It means the world.