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Part Two | Pain & Fire

Forty. Be Strong, Believe

A cold, wet something erupted beneath her, and suddenly Pansy realised she had made it. It took her a long minute to accept the buildings of Hogsmeade were looming over her - the outline of each distinctly pointed roof was a piercingly visible pure black silhouette - as a bright, almost full moon illuminated the sky with the distant mountains beyond them.

Pansy had no idea how to feel, how to act, or what to understand. Her emotions gradually became a confusing blend of everything, and suddenly nothing. She was aware she was breathing, and she knew it was raining. These two facts she held onto, because everything else was a confusing jumble of grey areas and fleeting arrays of confusing turmoil which spoke truths of the past hour Pansy wasn't quite ready to acknowledge.

It took her what could have been mere seconds, or several minutes, to even realise she was no longer standing. Or perhaps she'd never been standing at all. Perhaps somehow her body had withdrawn itself into a crouch during her apparition. She found herself bizarrely wondering if she'd ever be able to stand again. And somehow, stranger still, the fact that her small frame was able to crouch at all had offered her a small amount of comfort. Even the buildings with their pointed roofs and stark shadows felt somewhat rude and distasteful, and Pansy found herself unable to look at them. For when she did, she felt bile rise in her throat. Instead, her eyes focussed on the grey, wet cobbles currently beneath her.

I'm breathing.

It's raining.

I'm breathing.

It's raining.

And there she stayed, arms wrapped loosely around her chest, until she couldn't. Until her legs, already painful from remaining in the crouched position, gave way. Her clothes and hair, which were so soaked Pansy could have literally wrung them out, caused her to feel a cold which could no longer be described as a mere uncomfort, but a deathly ice, ripping into her already broken soul.

Pansy had no idea why or how she began to move, yet she did. And she walked, in the wet moonlight, down Hogsmeade's high street. Past the shops she'd grown to love, shops that she'd frequented every year since she was thirteen, past the Three Broomsticks where she'd sat on silly dates with Draco; where she'd gossiped with Daphne…

Oh, Daphne!

Pansy envisaged her best friend surrounded in a cloud of disappointment; You went to him, wearing that, she'd emphasize the last word in an air of disdain whilst gesturing at the revealing, purposefully chosen, now ripped top, and didn't think he'd think he was getting some-

Had she had any energy left, Pansy would have screamed. She knew her mental image of Daphne was right, of course. She had worn what she knew would get Rabastan's attention, hoping to -what? Warn him off? Give him a false disillusionment that she called some kind of shots. That she, a seventeen year old girl was in charge rather than a man who had not only survived, but actually, so he seemed to believe anyway, thrived in Azkaban? No, Pansy's head shook in spite of herself. She knew she was never in charge of any of their exchanges. She'd gone to convince him however the hell she had to, that she was on his side.

No, Pansy knew that was a lie.

She'd gone to save Neville, by any means necessary.

And Neville, another man had touched her. He'll never want me again, not now, Pansy thought, heartbroken. The icy cold that already enveloped her seemed to all at once thicken. She felt herself stooping, as though the very cobbles were drawing her to them. Rabastan's face seemed to appear, haunted and smiling, in every cobble, in every window, and every doorway she now looked upon. She frantically darted her eyes in any and every direction, praying for a reprise from Rabastan's leering, which, even when imaginary was still incredibly effective at causing real fear to erupt from Pansy like a fiery volcano.

And you're going to love it.

The memory of the words sliced through her like a knife and this time, no amount of exhaustion could keep away her screams as Pansy collapsed and slammed into a nearby doorway, her sobs only broken up by intermittent bouts of wailing. No longer remembering who she was, as her mind's eye became fogged, and consumed with the image of Rabastan moving towards her, and then on top of her, his hands moving towards…-

CRACK

The noise cracked the air like a whip. Pansy was aware, dully, of a commotion but was barely interested in learning the cause. The cold was somehow worsening. There was nothing but its chill and the memory of the last few hours. Only him, only Rabastan and what he'd done, what he'd almost done. Her psyche consumed with nothing but the fresh memories she knew she just wasn't strong enough to leave behind.

"Get back! You will not touch her!" A small, yet confident voice emitted, as a strong silver light blazed against Pansy's eyelids.

"I said GET BACK!"

Pansy found herself able to think a tiny bit clearer and knew she could open her eyes again, though she desperately wanted to avoid doing so, sure that Rabastan's face was all she would be able to see. At present, she was clinging to a desperate darkness that allowed her to see nothing as she tried with all her might to push everything away from her foresight.

Nothing was better than anything else.

Feeling a hand place itself onto her right elbow, all Pansy's efforts ceased and once again, Rabastan's face was right in front of her clamped-shut eyes as his hands and their too tight grip closed in around her forearms.

NO! No, please! She begged, unsure if she was saying so out loud or screaming in her mind. Her arms flailing wildly and her head shaking fiercely, her breathing betrayed her as she failed to catch any breath, feeling as though a right band had wound its way around her chest.

"It is okay, Miss Pansy. You're safe now."

Pansy stopped flailing, yet was unable to regain control of her breathing, even when she realised who the voice belonged to, she was entirely untrusting of the recognition.

But it can't be.

I'm going to die.

The more she fought against the inability to breath the sensation only worsened, absolute terror gripped her, certain she was seconds from death until, from nowhere, her breathing eased and she was finally able to open her heavy eyes. They met, of all things, a concerned looking house elf, hands poised from obviously having just clicked her fingers as she looked at those long bunny ears and big, teary eyes. Pansy became breathless for a whole new reason as green eyes met brown, and gratitude met comfort.

Winky blinked up at the witch and squeaked, "Miss Pansy, Winky is here. We're leaving now."

"Winky-"

"Be strong-"

"I don't un-."

"You will," Winky continued, holding Pansy tightly as she prepared to apparate the two of them. The elf closed her eyes, and so did Pansy, as both the reality from what had happened and the relief had somehow not coursed through her, the elf's next words echoing through the night.

"Be strong, believe."

End of Part Two