A/N: The premise of this story relies on the Slytherins being locked in the dungeons during the Battle of Hogwarts like they are in the movie. Also, I'd more or less consider this crack.
Pansy paced the length of the cell, shoving at the other Slytherins that were in her way. Some of them glared at her just as the other students had in the Great Hall, ashamed that one of their own would suggest handing someone over to the Dark Lord.
So she wanted to survive. She wouldn't apologize for it, no matter how much they glared at her. She would, however, sulk over being shoved in a dungeon that hadn't even been used for a century or more. The place was cold and filthy. They'd been locked inside for five minutes, and Pansy already felt the need to shower.
She caught sight of an ochre-coloured shard of clay from the corner of her eye. It was lying uselessly in a corner of the cell where a house elf had apparently never seen the need to pick it up. A flash of reckless rage rushed through her, and she reached down for the shard, throwing it against the stone wall with all of her might.
The action drew the attention of everyone in the cell to her, and she was thankful that only a fraction of their house had ended up in the same cell as her. It was mostly her year, and none of them were that surprised by her outburst.
If it got back to her parents, she might be punished for acting uncouth, but she had a feeling no one would think to spread the gossip considering what the rest of their night had consisted of.
"That's one way to deal with your anger," Blaise commented cooly from where he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed against his chest. "Though it's not particularly productive."
Pansy directed her glare at him, but he didn't shy away from her like most of the others in the cell had. He had long acted as if he belonged in the Sacred Twenty-Eight despite 'Zabini' not being among the names. She had always found it infuriating as much as she had admirable and, dare she admit it, attractive.
"Productive?" she growled. "We're locked down here without our wands. How do you expect me to be productive? Tell me, are you well-versed in Muggle lock picking, Zabini?"
"Not particularly," he said with a shrug.
He turned to one of the only third years to have wound up in their cell, a small-looking boy whose dark hair emphasized his pale skin. His grey eyes were wide as he stared up at Blaise.
"Did you bring the iron rod like I told you?" Blaise asked the boy as if he were a teacher asking a student about their homework.
"...not the iron one," the boy replied in a shaky voice. "I couldn't find it, and there wasn't much time. I had to get a steel one instead."
He pulled the surprisingly long steel rod from inside his robes and held it out to Blaise, who inspected it before nodding.
"This one will do," he said.
Looking up, he noticed the other Slytherins in their cell watching him with disbelief, and his smirk widened.
"Did none of you come up with plans of your own? I'm disappointed."
"Where did you get that?" Pansy snapped at the younger boy, who was quick to hide behind Blaise despite the older boy giving no indication he would protect him if needed.
"I've had them stashed in a few places around the castle for months," Blaise said. "It was only a matter of time before the war came to Hogwarts, after all, and you can't always count on wands. When they said they were sending us to the dungeons, I knew these would be just what we needed, so I had Ethan here grab one for me."
He didn't pay attention to his fellow students' shock as he walked over to inspect the lock, humming to himself as he ran his fingers over it.
"They may have locked us in with magic, but this thing has been rusting for years. Clearly there was no need to maintain the locks."
He tapped the rod against the lock, testing it out, and grunted in satisfaction.
Rearing his arm back, he brought the rod down as hard as he could against the lock. Pansy cringed, her hands shooting up to cover her ears at the loud ringing produced. When she had recovered enough to open her eyes, it was to find the remains of the lock scattered on the ground and the cell door swinging back and forth on its hinges.
Blaise chuckled to himself as he pushed the door open and stood to the side, bowing as if he were a butler ushering guests inside a house.
"After you," he said, making direct eye contact with Pansy.
When she stayed rooted in place, the others pushed past her and Blaise, filing out of the dungeons. Most of them hardly paid attention to the pleas of their fellow classmates in the other cells, though a few stopped to do what they could.
Pansy couldn't even bring herself to leave the cell as she stared at Blaise with his stupid smirk and casual posture. He looked as if he used steel rods to break out of dungeon cells every day.
"You're stupid."
His smirk widened before he asked, "How?"
The way his brow went upward with the question infuriated her more, and with a loud huff, she found it in her to push past him, trying not to pay attention to his laughter as she hurried out of the dungeons.
Prompts:
Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments
Seasonal Challenge - Autumn Colours: ochre
Seasonal Challenge - Autumn Birthstones: Turquoise - (dialogue) "Did you bring the iron rod like I told you?" / "...not the iron one."
Seasonal Challenge - Autumn Flowers: pansy - (character) Pansy Parkinson
Word count: 924