Disclaimer: Mentions of past parental and mentor abuse.

Also I took some direct quotes from the sixth hp book, thank you Rowling for your amazing brain which created this world!

Chapter 2

Pansy Parkinson looked over her shoulder to the clock that hung in her prefect room, she was going to be late for breakfast if she didn't hurry up. The girl couldn't bring herself to move away from the mirror though. She had to triple check that everything was covered. Her blouse was done up to the very top button, and she had tied it tight around her throat, enjoying how it restricted her air flow, at times. It didn't quite cover the scar that reached up her neck, though. It was a dark, muted beige color, not yet completely healed to white as most of her other scars had. It was thin, the thickest part no thicker than a quill. Her mother had given it to her when she had performed badly on a task Bellatrix had given her. The two sided assault from both parent and teacher ensured that she never made that mistake again. She used to charm it so it stayed hidden, no Slytherin cared about the abuse your body had been put through because of your parents, but they did care when you ruined the perfect ideal a pure blood is supposed to represent. Now Pansy couldn't care less. Technically she was in the inner circle, being apprenticed by Bellatrix, she didn't have to rise to anyone's standard. She only covered the other scars to help keep up the facade of Slytherin, she couldn't risk getting into too much trouble before she found her way out. So her sleeves were always rolled down, and her skirt stopped to just before her knees. She could do that.

Finally satisfied she made her way out of the dorms, through the common room, to the stairs where she made her trek, up, and up, and up. By the third staircase her eyes had finally welcomed the sight of natural light for the first time today. The ground floor was her favorite because of how large the windows were.

Not wanting to chance getting them dirty while she ate, Pansy pulled out her times tables, re-checking the room for her first class. She was still surprised to see the name of the class. Advanced Transfiguration was scrawled out in what could only be Professor McGonagall's script. You had to be handpicked to gain access to the class, and most were picked from the seventh year class, not the fifth.

She was entering the hallway off from the main staircase when she heard the Gryffindor trio, who were making their way down the final staircase.

"How do you remember stuff like that?" The Weasley boy asked, his voice raised in his apparent awe.

"I listen, Ron," Hermione droned with a sense of exasperation coloring her tone. She then went on to interrupt his excuse with, "The point is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months, and we've started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat's warning was the same - stand together, be united-"

"And Harry said it last night, if that means we're supposed to get matey with the Slytherins, fat chance," Rot retorted.

Since her first year at Hogwarts Pansy has hung onto every words the wild haired Gryffindor uttered. She was oddly drawn to the know-it-all the second she met her. The facade Hermione put on those first few moments, the one that seemed to cloak her in a better-than-thou complex, rivaled Pansy's own. They had much in common, yet different paths took them into separate directions. Hermione's un-masked, un-cloaked and Pansy's forever shrouded in lies and misdirection. It was almost wishful thinking that we could mend decades of rivalries and bad blood in a single school year. Ron's blind fellowship to a rivalry he personally had no real grievance in, is all the proof she needed that there would be no repairing of bonds.

Hermione kept pushing for inter-house unity, while Harry and Ron made sarcastic remarks about the student that huddled and cowered away from them. Harry's announcement of the Dark Lord's return falling on deaf ears. Fear and the belief that ignorance is bliss causing large numbers of the society to attack the messenger.

Not entirely wanting to eavesdrop Pansy walked quickly through the grand hall doors and to the Slytherin table. Taking her seat next to Malfoy, smiling at Lisa when she made eye contact, (or rather green eyes met blond bangs, with a tiny nose sticking out of them). The small child was sitting next to another girl in her class, huddled slightly behind her, obviously taking comfort in her closeness.

Pansy quickly filled her plate with ham, poached eggs, and hollandaise sauce, steadily scarfing it down so she didn't have to be around Malfoy's continual posturing for long.

As she moved to vacate her spot, Malfoy gripped her wrist.

"You promised to help me study this year for the O.W.L.s," his tone pleading and yet commanding as she had not actually promised that, "We should probably get a head start tonight as we make our rounds."

She slowly met his heated gaze. He may understand her want to not be a part of the Dark Lord's plan, but while she was, she would do as he said and do what He commands. With gritted teeth she nodded.

She was the first one in her Advanced Transfiguration class and she quickly slipped to the dark corner in the back of the room. She didn't expect to see more than ten other students in this class and more than likely all will be seventh years so she might be able to drop the facade of a proud slytherin here and melt into the background. At least that was what she hoped for until one of the Gryffindor trio walked in, oblivious of the girl in the corner.

Pansy Parkinson took this opportunity to take in the girl without others searching gazes. She smiled to herself as Hermione sat at the front and pulled out a notebook instead of a scroll. Her muggle things always intrigued Pansy. They seemed to make Hermione's life easier with their convenience alone. Pansy had lost count of all the times the scroll she used to take notes was damaged and she loathed carting around the heavy, leather bound journals that most of the other students used.

She enjoyed this shared moment of peace, though it saddened her that the other participant was oblivious to it. Slowly other students sauntered in, claiming seats far away from her, subconsciously or not.

She had been right, there were only eight other students besides herself, and none sported Slytherin green. Most were Ravenclaw, two Hufflepuff, a Gryffindor and Hermione. Her eyes were drawn to the girl again. Hermione's shoulders had dropped a little as if she were aware of the heavy gazes on her back. Yesterday's opening ceremony must have been hard not only on Harry but Hermione too, and maybe that ginger, Weasly. Pansy had almost slipped up and thought of him as wesal. She had forced the taunt from her mouth so many times she had actually started to refer to him as that in her mind as well.

Even now Pansy heard the whispers from the seventh years. There was a rumor going around that Harry Potter had been attacked by dementors over the summer; and to make matters worse the Daily Prophet had been pulling Harry's name through the gutter ever since he claimed that the Dark Lord was alive. Attacking the messenger, she thought again. The paper was leading much of the student body to believe that the stress of being the-boy-who-lived was going to his head and somehow gave them the right to discredit him on every turn, and those that supported him. It didn't matter, those that needed to know that He was back already knew. Pansy remembered the looks on her parents faces when they were greeted with the news. So she would not be participating with the rumor mill as she usually would have done. In fact, she no longer wanted any part in it. She knew that Harry was right because she had seen him, had slept in the same house as him, had been struck by him, had been passed off to LeStrange when he grew bored. If all Harry Potter got were a couple of dementors on his back, he should find himself lucky.

Hermione had straightened in her seat once her head of house entered the classroom. McGonagall, old as a bat but yet not seeming to age past it, moved with light steps down the center of the classroom to the front.

"Good morning class, you are here because you have been handpicked for your skill in transfiguration and the suspicion that some may be animagus." Even her voice sounded old, if that was even a thing. Nevertheless, Pansy's eyes widened at that. If she was an animagus than maybe her p- no, it didn't matter either way. The only way her parents would ever look at her differently is if the Dark Lord did. She swallowed at the hardening saliva in her throat, terrified of the day that, that might actually happen.

McGonagall moved on to calling out names from a list, the whispers increasing in volume when Hermione's name was called, and completely dying out when Pansy's name was called. Each student turned in their seat as if they didn't believe that she could actually be in this class. Hermione, the brightest witch of this age, was one thing but Pansy Parkinson?

Her obligatory smirk slid into place before it abruptly dropped when she remembered that the Dark Lord had punished her for it. How was that even her fault? She had only ever done what was expected of her, and what was expected was a high horse riding, proud pure blood. Right? Pansy tried to shake her inner struggle off, now wasn't the time nor the place to be focusing on that.

Instead she smiled at the professor and politely said, "Good morning." There was a heavy silence as if everyone was expecting her to say more, maybe throw a taunt out, but she sat calmly in her chair waiting for the lecture to begin. Amber eyes met her from across the room, they were slightly squinted in disbelief and a slight pain went through Pansy's chest as it always had when it was expected of her to act a certain way, or whenever Hermione looked at her with disgust or miss trust. That's all she ever really had to do, one look and Pansy was putty in Hermione's hands, though Hermione never seemed to notice. Pansy nodded once to the messy haired girl and moved her gaze to the front of the class, deciding that even though she couldn't be seen fraternizing with the enemy, she didn't have to be mean either. Pansy smiled to herself.

She was finally going to have a say in how she was supposed to act, even if it was a terribly small one.

Fate seemed to be mocking Pansy, as she quickly realized she had almost every class with Hermione. As if Fate believed Pansy needed a reminder on why she wanted to change. In each class Hermione would eye her up and down growing more suspicious each time Pansy's name was called, she could tell because of the increasing tension in Hermione's body. It wasn't until their D.A.D.A. class that something changed. Picking her usual spot at the back, Pansy was surprised when Hermione sat right next to her. Still studying her as if the answer to Hermione's question was written on Pansy's forehead.

"I'm not stalking you if that is what you are thinking," Pansy said calmly not bothering to look at the other girl. Hermione stayed silent, and staring. It was starting to get on her nerves. Resisting the urge to yell 'what,' she looked at the girl out of the corner of her eye, and raised an eyebrow, "You're staring."

"I'm trying to figure out what happened." Was all the other girl said. Frowning, Pansy decided to ignore her. If the brightest witch of the age wanted to examine her she wasn't going to protest, even if the amber eyes caused a blush to rise to her face. Pansy was almost relieved when rest of the trio entered and sat next to Hermione.

"Why are we sitting next to her?" Ron asked grumpily.

"Because this is where I want to sit," Hermione answered simply, still watching Pansy. Not deterred in the slightest Ron continued grumbling about the amount of homework that was already assigned to them.

"Well good afternoon!" Professor Umbridge finally said as the last student entered the classroom. She had been calmly observing the class, patiently waiting at the front until everyone had sat down. She got a few grumbled responses and it was apparently nowhere to her satisfaction as she then went on to say, "tut, tut. That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

Exasperated, Pansy joined the rest of the class in the chant.

Unperturbed Professor Umbridge continued her introduction to the class. Her eyes sweeping the student body, landing on Pansy, they hardened in recognition. The Slytherin girl's left hand flared up with phantom pains causing her to gasp slightly. She could feel Hermione's gaze again, but again, she didn't look at her, just rubbed her hand subconsciously.

Umbridge's reciting of her "class aims" made Pansy want to roll her eyes but they drew Hermione's attention away from her and for that she was grateful. And when Umbridge again requested that the class respond to her questions with a 'Yes or No, Professor Umbridge,' she couldn't hold back her snort, which rewarded her a stern glare and a 'hem-hem' from the short pink blob, who paused in her speech and pulled out a quill. A quill Pansy was intimately acquainted with.

Professor Umbridge started playing with the frills on the feather and an uncomfortable dull ache started in Pansy's thumb. Frowning she glanced down at the rapidly reddening scar and had to stifle a gasp. One line of the first letter had re-opened and little bubbles of blood had pushed to the surface. With a deepening frown Pansy looked back up at Umbridge, a sickening gleam in the Professor's eye as she went on to ask the class to read 'Basics for Beginners,' the first chapter of the book.

Begrudgingly, Pansy brought out her book, careful to keep her left hand in her lap and out of sight of prying eyes. It took her a couple seconds to realize that Hermione sat next to her quietly and patiently sitting with her hand raised. Curious she sat smiling at Hermione as she realized their positions had been switched. Soon the whole class was watching Hermione making it impossible for Umbridge to continue to ignore her.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter dear?" Umbridge finally addressed her. The following conversation was funny up and to a point. The second Umbridge's voice started to shrill, a chill ran down Pansy's spine. It was the tone the Professor used when Pansy had spilt her wine.

"... You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day," Professor Umbridge was saying her tone ringing in Pansy's ears.

"No we haven't," Hermione pushed. Afraid for the Gryffindor, the Slytherin quickly reached over with her left hand and squeezed the other girl's knee. The suddenness and the pleading in the green eyes caused the wild haired girl's next words to trip up, "W-we ju-ust -" Her eyes widening and darting to the Slytherin whose eyes were equally wide, though in fear rather than surprise. Pansy's head shook ever so slightly. She knew Umbridge was going to explode and she rather it not be on Hermione. Pansy's hand involuntarily tightened when Umbridge yelled for Hermione's hand, her jaw tightening. Pansy glared Professor Umbridge down as she continued talking about her predecessor, Dean Thomas interrupting her, and then she continuing her lecture on O.W.L.s.

A pain in her left hand caused Pansy to gasp and jerk her head back around to look at Hermione. A frown drew the corners of Hermione's lips down, her eyebrows were drawn together, and the tip of her right thumb lightly traced the scar and the bleeding cut near the base of Pansy's thumb. Her immediate response was to snatch her arm back but Hermione tightened her grip, another scar catching the Gryffindor's interest. She pushed back Pansy's sleeve to try and get a better look, but the shirt was well tailored. The button kept the cuff in place, so all Hermione could see or the scar was a thin white line, just thicker than a pin's width. When Hermione when to unbutton the cuff, Pansy jerked her hand back and looking away from the Gryffindor. A small intake of breath her only indication of her mistake. She quickly covered the mark on her neck, muttering a quick concealment spell for all her scars. Concerned she frowned at herself, why did she care now about hiding her scars when just this morning she couldn't care less. She dropped both hands into her lap, fists clenched, she didn't even realize her wandless magic had caused the Gryffindor girl's eyes to widen. Yet even this revelation into the skills behind Pansy Parkinson couldn't hold either girls' attention over Harry's sudden announcement of:

"Hmm, let's think… maybe Lord Voldemort." The reactions to the name varied across the class. Most reacting in shock or fear. The argument only seemed to accelerated from there.

Pansy turned, searching Hermione's eyes, trying to tell her to stop him before it was too late.

"It is NOT a lie!" said Harry. "I saw him, I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly, and all of the air rushed out of Pansy's body in one whoosh. Her body slouching in her chair, too late.

With one more attempt at getting the class to read 'Basics for Beginners' Professor Umbridge turned around to make her way back to her desk. So she missed it when Harry pushed up from his seat.

"Harry, no!" Hermione whispered.

"Voldemort killed Cedric, and you know it," Harry shouted.

"Come here, Mr. Potter, dear." The calmness in Umbridge's made Pansy tense up. "Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear." Harry slammed the door as he went and Pansy flinched. He had no idea what he had just done. A sudden clarity entered her mind, maybe she could use the skills she learned over the summer for something actually good.

Pansy quickly pulled out an extra piece of parchment and used the rest of the class period to scribble out the ingredients, and directions, to a potion that would reduce scarring.

Hermione on the other hand didn't take her eyes of Pansy. It was like Hermione was studying her. The end of class couldn't come quick enough. The second it was over Pansy pushed herself up quickly and rushed out of the room, but not before slipping her parchment into Hermione's hands. She wasn't helping the Light side, she tried to convince herself as she moved through the halls of Hogwarts, she was just helping the crazy haired, Gryffindor girl, with the amber eyes.