And then she slept.
Not soundly, but for a little while there was tenuous peace.
Something thick, cloudy and false was weaving through her veins, floating through her arteries. She felt slow like she was falling through sludge, drowning in herself.
There was something horrible she was trying to remember. Something important. Reaching it felt more difficult than opening her eyes.
She wasn't going to submit to it.
It felt like there was something wrong in her that she needed to get out, a different flavour of venom that was not her own.
A woman's face looked calmly at her in a sea of red, red hair. She was terrible and beautiful and lovely. Her eyes a scorching blue with a warm, motherly smile.
She spoke with Charlie's voice, the words he said with hot breath to her ear. "I'm not leaving you, Pansy. I never will. I l-"
The woman's face broadened, features sliding to a wide jaw, skin slipping from cream to ruddy, freckled and scarred.
His liars smile grinned showing three rows of teeth.
Light that didn't feel like a comfort but an intense punishment flooded her gaze.
"Mmfmfbt?"
A cool hand touched the back of her wrist. A female voice spoke nonsensically.
"Wakeshme oop," Pansy tried again, her insides yelling for clarity, to end this woollen, choking fog.
"Pansy-" said a female voice "it's okay, let me get the nurse."
It was too late. The wave had taken her under and again she was drowning.
Pansy opened her eyes ever so slightly. Everything felt very light and false, her body a muscleless mass.
Through the monochrome kaleidoscope of her eyelashes she could make out a figure by her bed. She remained very still.
The figure gave an impatient snort.
"I can see you're awake. Stop acting."
Draco, of course. Her eyes fluttered open into a glare.
Despite the brightness, she looked around the room for others - for him. Yet there was no one, only Draco.
"Why you?" She groaned.
He glared at her in response, looking as cheery and happy go lucky as a funeral director, but made no move to go.
Pansy swallowed. She couldn't remember ever feeling so tired and so against falling asleep. It felt too close to something more permanent. She didn't want to risk drifting off forever.
Gingerly, she brought her hands up past her hips and onto her stomach. Pressing gently, she felt soft gauze. Wincing, she pushed down harder. Pain shot through her stomach, though her fingers felt the bounce of flesh, not metal.
"So I'm not a cyborg?" Pansy asked the room.
"A what?" He was never a fan of a muggle reference. Quelle surprise. "No, you're all flesh and bone again, though the poison is going to be in your system a while longer. Not that that will make much difference to you. Shall I send an owl to your mother?"
"Absolutely not. I'm sure her and my brother are having a very nice Christmas together. I don't want to ameliorate her joy with the knowledge that I'm a bed-bound pin cushion. Who knows how I'd top that gift next year. How's Cha- everyone else?"
"Not dead. But also not here. Happy New Year, I suppose. Glad the sleeping princess could finally join us."
Pansy swallowed his bile. It felt like she was being comforted by a skeleton with an attitude problem. Despite his tired face, Draco was perfectly tailored - as ever - in black. The soft blankets and papery clothes made her feel naked in comparison.
Her gaze towards him steeled, though Pansy couldn't stop the fright rising within her. She'd been asleep for seven days. Merlin, the scheming that could happen in seven days.
"What are they doing? Harry and the Aurors?"
Draco snorted.
Before replying he brought out a small silver trinket and wound it up. It was box shaped and had a small gramophone-like ear coming out the side. Once wound, he set it down on the bed where it gave off a slight tick as silvery gas wafted out the ear.
Pansy's stomach tightened - an Occluder. Whatever words they exchanged now would not be overheard by anyone else, hexed help or no.
"I wouldn't have the first clue. It's not like we sat round and swapped secrets at a slumber party while you were knocked out. As you can imagine, we were interrogated. There were a number of questions designed to make us admit that it was us who were the attackers, bloody imbeciles. Once that was over…. well, their plans are their own. As ever. They took the guest list from the party and seem to be more focused on tracking our friends who have gone into hiding. None of us have been arrested, but you can bet we're being watched and listened to. St Mungo's is rife with them and there are at least two stationed at the Manor."
"How… how many are hurt?"
She couldn't bring herself, yet, to ask about the death toll.
Draco listed those she knew of already, including Malcolm Baddock, and a handful of others. Two deaths - Theo and Graham Pritchard, a close friend of Malcolm's. Two more deaths etched on her soul.
Pansy closed her eyes. She wished he wasn't there.
"And," she swallowed. "And Millie?"
Draco looked down and the hard edge of his mouth softened.
"Unfortunately, she's awake. The healer and mediwizards looked after her with immense care. There's not a scratch left on her, but she's… suffered the worst of all of us."
"Can I see her?"
"I don't think that's best at the moment. Astoria and Blaise are with her now, so she isn't alone. Theo's family have been informed."
Liquid filmed over her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. Her best friend was here in another rooms of St Mungo's, suffering, and Pansy couldn't go to see her. She'd be the last person Millie would want.
"And why are you here, Malfoy?"
He looked at her coolly. His bony hand reached over the blankets to take her own. Cold, but it was a comfort.
"We need to close ranks," he said, his grey eyes looking into hers. "Theo dead. Malcolm severely hurt. Goyle practically excommunicated by you. Until recently you were half steel, half girl and completely unconscious. There's only a few of us left. Blaise is probably going to bolt at any moment. And someone is trying to kill us."
Fear rose rank off them both. Neither trembled. Something in their nature, their mindset, or their house's namesake called at them to protect themselves. Bite the thing that attacked them, go to ground. Who else was going to look after a nest of cobras?
Draco's eyes that always held that slither of fear now fully held her. His hand on hers, one of her few remaining allies and loves, now scared and asking her to help.
"If we're going to protect the last of us and our generation, preserve the last of the Purebloods-"
And with that he lost her.
"-Then that's not us, is it Draco?" Pansy said furiously. "I'm not and you know it. Don't you dare peddle out that lie to me. We know He who started this blood war wasn't even that - a drivelling pureblood. If that's all you care about, you can get out."
Draco look stung, like he'd shocked himself with his own words.
"I'm sorry. That was… out of habit. You know I don't think of you like that-"
"You do, Draco, and it doesn't matter. Perhaps we deserve this fate. We're…. pretty bloody awful." She gave a choking laugh. "I've said the worse slurs against Muggle-borns, covering up that fact I'm half Muggle. I've bullied, pursued out of fear. And you… you wear velvet casually, have some very backwards views when it comes to blood superiority and basically apprenticed to He Who Shall Not Be Named. Maybe we deserve to face retribution."
Draco looked at her darkly. "Theo didn't. Millie definitely doesn't. Astoria. The young ones. Not everyone went bad, Pansy. And I don't think these people are ready to discuss nuance."
His words sped up as the Occluder's tick began to slow.
"Hanging out with Gryffindors has obviously incited some dim light of conscience in you, Parkinson, but don't throw away other people's lives to acquit whatever guilt you feel. You think I carry the knowledge of what I've done lightly? I can't sleep for the things I've been part of and that have been cast by my wand. I can't sleep knowing my parents wanted this and not… not being sure… being so split between family loyalty and what the rest of the world thinks. It's hard to do good when blood is already on your hands and your parents are telling you the sky is green and murder is justified."
Pansy sneered, pain stabbing through her abdomen. "Yes, it's so hard being a lying, murderous rich boy."
Draco stood up, fury and some other emotion vibrating off him.
"I - …Go hang yourself, Pansy. If you won't help us, then don't. If you won't protect Millie, Astoria, the others and yourself, then rot here with your fair-weather friends. Wherever they are."
She tried to sit up further, but the pain crippled her torso. Draco marched to the door, pocketing the Occluder and turned to take a last look at her - both their eyes shining.
"Parkinsons," he said dismissively. "You only ever want to be part of the popular crowd."
And with that, her one time fiancé and friend left.
It took a long time for her heartbeat to slow and longer for the tears to stop. She tried to stay awake for as long as she could, staring at the door and waiting for it to open.
She waited for Luna, or Millie, any of the Slytherins or dragon wranglers. Part of her even wanted Draco to come back.
Mostly, she waited for Charlie and the long shadow of his absence to end.
Treacherous sleep took her with angry dreams of wands being pointed, friends screaming and that ever familiar feeling of being utterly and completely alone.
When the mediwizards came in, she kept her answers short and to the point. Yes, there was pain. Yes, she still felt groggy. No, she wasn't ready to speak to the Aurors.
There was nothing binding her to the bed, but then she didn't think she had anywhere to go. She and Draco had abandoned each other, she didn't have the first clue where Luna was, and she imagined all the Weasleys were back at the Burrow reclaiming as much of their time together as they could.
Marking Draco's words, she spoke economically. Information was power and she didn't know who the mediwizards might pass them onto. Asking them questions would give too much of herself away, but not asking felt like a physical pain. The ignorance of how Charlie and Millie were doing sat like a stone in her heart.
And then they came. The Aurors.
She only vaguely recognised their faces, not their names.
They gave her clothes that she recognised from her packed bags at the Burrow. They even let her keep her wand and gave her privacy as she dressed, yet their words were just as economical as her own.
Time for my interrogation, Pansy supposed, kicking herself for not picking through her memories to check if there was anything incriminating. It's going to have to be the truth.
They escorted her down the halls of St Mungo's, their clothes subtle and not instantly giving away their position. No one looked their way and it took all of Pansy's self control not to put her head into every room that they passed to check for her friends. They'd tell her, surely, if someone had died. Surely, they wouldn't make her ask.
They entered a quiet, comfortable room at the end of one of the corridors. It was filled with soft furnishings in shades of cream. Pansy recognised a similar one from her Father's illness. This was the room where they introduce you to death, softly. When they know their medicine will no longer work and only have bad news to share amongst the fluffy cushions and gentle fire.
Pansy went to sit down, but a look from the female Auror stopped her.
"We're not staying in here," she said, fetching a jar from the side filled with sparkling dust.
She took a pinch and blew it into the barely there flames, which grew tall, green and ugly, casting a sickly shade across the room.
Pansy's back went rigid, as they guided her towards the fireplace. Every sense was yelling at her to run, but she couldn't move her frozen limbs, not even when the flames licked coolly at her face. She looked at the three faces in askance.
The woman looked back and opened her mouth to instruct the fire:
"Azkaban."