Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor do I make any money.

Sarcasm

"McGonagall sent me with your homework," Ron said to Pansy during one of his early afternoon visits. He could tell she was feigning sleep. He had noticed a distinct difference in her breathing two days ago but he wasn't going to tell her that.

When he didn't get a response, he sat it on the table by her and took a seat in the nearby chair without a word. He waited a few more moments, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment, before giving up with a sigh and grabbing his own homework to work on.

He was half-way through the potions essay he needed to finish by tomorrow, when he heard a weak voice say, "Why are you here?"

Looking up, he saw Pansy's eyes looking at him. The past few days he had been wondering what her eye colour was and for the first time, he could see they were a golden hazel that stood out from the purple residue of the bruises that were starting to fade. There was a hard, cold edge to them though that bothered Ron.

No one's eyes should look like that, he thought. Not at our age.

"Just wanted to make sure you are okay," he responded before turning back to his work. Though those were the first words she had said to him, he figured they may also be the last for the day.

"As you can see I'm fine," she snapped, glaring at him. "Unless your eyes are second hand too."

"No you're not," Ron whispered quietly, putting away his books into his bag. Hoping this meant that she was finally willing to talk to him.

"Yes I am," she bit off again but her tone was off. Looking at her even closer, he could see just how much she was struggling with at the moment; trying to keep it together by putting him down with her best attempts of sarcasm and meanness though failing miserably in his opinion. "I'm perfectly fine. Fine as rain. So you can leave. The sideshow is closed for the day."

"You keep telling yourself that and when you are finished with lying to yourself, let me know."

He watched as she turned her head to look at the wall away from him. Sighing, he picked up this bag and slung it over his shoulder. Seeing the quill he had left on the pile of homework, he transfigured it into a white rose, figuring it was about time that someone sent her a flower after all she had been through.

"I'll be back before curfew," he told her before turning and walking out of the hospital wing.

Ron heard her start to cry but decided to just let her be.