A drop of water trickled down the glass. Pansy's eyes followed the droplet's path until it disappeared beyond view. Whether that droplet joined a larger collection of water somewhere further below the window, Pansy didn't know: the rain was like a heavy mist; it rendered the usually scenic views to nothing more than a dull, grey curtain.

"Pansy! I've been looking all over the train for you! I thought you'd be in Daphne's compartment. What are you doing over here with the boys anyway?" Millicent's abrupt entrance bathed the compartment in blissful silence for a moment, before Pansy yelped as she was forcefully dragged out of her seat.

The compartment with the rest of the girls wasn't going to be quiet or even reach the ignorable levels of conversation in the boys' compartment. Pansy knew that with absolute certainty, and that had been the reason she had purposefully disappeared within a crowd while they were boarding the train back to London. She would hear nothing but a repetition of what she already knew with a little bit of someone else's opinion in each retelling.

"Uh, Millicent, which compartment is it? I'll meet you there. I've got to go to the, uh, bathroom first," Pansy said once they were a couple of compartments away.

Pansy fondly refused Millicent's offer to wait for her and only half-listened to the directions to the compartment — she wanted no chance of being spotted by the other Slytherin girls. Millicent soon wove her way back to the compartment she had come from, and Pansy heaved a sigh of relief before heading to the back of the train, hoping for an empty compartment.

Mercifully, there was one, and Pansy sat close to the door so anyone looking for her would think that the compartment was empty. Pansy leaned back, allowing herself to slouch as her mind wandered back to the realisation that had been plaguing her since the end of the Triwizard Tournament: someone had died.

She had known, logically, that people would die. Her father had told her, with a certain voice, that the Mudbloods and Traitors would die, but Pansy had never thought that it would start so soon. There should have been one more person aboard the Hogwart's Express today, one person who would never go home and never roam the corridors of Hogwarts again.

Pansy could feel herself beginning to tremble; acknowledging, realising, for the first time that she could die. The war could kill her like it would so many other people. It's already begun, of that she had no doubt, but there was no way of telling when it would end, or how much she would lose to it; Pansy shrank into herself in her seat.

The compartment door slid open quickly, before slamming shut, and the lock clicked before Pansy could even open her mouth to protest.

"Potter! What are you doing here?"

The boy in question spun around, eyes wide, obviously not expecting someone else to be in the compartment already. He glanced between Pansy and the locked compartment door, before a scowl etched itself onto his features, and he took the seat on the opposite end of the compartment to Pansy with folded arms.

"If you don't bother me, I won't bother you, okay?"

"What the hell, Potter? You don't just invite yourself into someone else's compartment! Where is Weasel and Mudblood anyway?"

"Perhaps if you weren't hiding, I wouldn't have come to this compartment," Potter retorted. "Slytherin become too cold for you?"

Pansy couldn't help flushing at the truth of that statement; the rest of the Slytherins hadn't even flinched at the death of Cedric Diggory. They had taken it in their stride, not showing a hint of remorse for a life snuffed out for no reason.

"What's it to you, Potter?" Pansy shot back. She only realised what a weak argument (if it were an argument at all) that was, after the words had left her mouth.

Potter smirked. The compartment drifted into silence as Potter's gaze travelled out the window. Pansy hadn't even noticed the weather clearing but it had, and she regretted giving up her window seat. Her gaze, though, kept drifting away from the window and to the frown that still clung on to Potter's face.

Pansy sighed.

"What's wrong, Potter? This silence is becoming eerie," Pansy said.

"Other than the fact that a Slytherin and Gryffindor are sitting in the same compartment without insulting each other, you mean?" Potter asked with a raised eyebrow.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"Nothing, really. I just wanted some quiet after everything that happened." Potter shrugged. "Why are you sitting here all alone?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you." Pansy sniffed, half-expecting a reaction from Potter. She found herself disappointed when Potter only shrugged again with a murmured, "Typical."

Another moment passed, and Pansy didn't understand why she wanted some kind of reaction from this tired-looking Gryffindor, but she knew that no one her age should wear that expression of weary regret. Even if the person in question was Saint Potter, Gryffindor extraordinaire.

"I just… I didn't expect someone to die," Pansy began. "The Slytherins are in their separate compartments right now, exchanging theories of how Diggory died. They don't care. To them, he's just another Hufflepuff — another person whose life doesn't really matter. Diggory had friends and family, though; he did matter, and I can't help but think that could have been someone I know. It-it scares me."

Pansy didn't have to look up from her clasped hands to know that Potter's eyes were on her. She could only imagine that he thought of her as some scared girl, when he had been the one to watch Diggory die. To her horror, Pansy could feel her eyes begin to burn as her throat began to feel thick.

"I wonder the same thing," Potter said softly. His gaze left Pansy, allowing her to regain control of her wayward emotions. "Hermione and Ginny, they want me to talk about it. Let it all out, but saying it makes it seem like the possibility is there. It's as if hearing it spoken out loud makes it possible for it to happen, so it's better to leave it as the little nagging worry at the back of your mind."

"Anything can happen in the future, but I can promise that, if I'm given the chance, I will do my best to protect as many people as I can. Perhaps one of them will be someone you care about."

Pansy's startled glance shot to Potter's face, seeing, for the first time, the boy that shouldered the weight of the wizarding world's hope. Pansy thought that Potter carried just a little bit of her own hope now, too.

A smile curved her lips. "Thank you. If I ever get the chance to do the same, I will."

It was less of a promise to Potter than it was to herself. She couldn't continue standing on the sidelines, hoping death didn't touch her life.

It would, but she could do her best to prevent it.

Written for

Quidditch League Round 7: Wigtown Wanderers Chaser 3: Harry/Pansy

(setting) Hogwart's Express; (word) tremble; (word) mist

Quidditch Pitch: repetition

Investment Building Challenge: Word Count Building: 1000-1200 words [1189 words]