Pansy skipped breakfast, opting for (simple, uncomplicated, non-sexually charged) earl grey with lemon to settle her nerves.

Seventeen children arrived in her classroom, most of them late and nervous, explaining the various ways they had gotten lost in the castle trying to find the room. Pansy took a deep breath, fingering the tiny vial around her neck, and began her planned lesson on ingredient properties and essential elements to potion making.

She was a little breathless while she lectured, her heart beating so hard she thought they could hear it. She forgot to give (or take) any points, even when the remarkably tiny Paris Trivers gave a Granger-worthy performance of shooting his hand into the air to answer her simple question correctly. She also nearly forgot to introduce herself, finally writing her name on the board when a tall Gryffindor girl with yellow hair stumbled to address her correctly. The time ticked by more slowly than she had planned, and she had to improvise, assigning their homework early and allowing them to begin it in class so that she could correct and assist. The charts they drew up, analyzing common ingredients and their elements and identifying qualities, were sloppy. Still, she was impressed to see that most of them were eager to learn, desperate to get each question right.

The second class went a little smoother- her breathing was under control, and her name was already written on the board. Her pacing improved, and she even remembered to award a Ravenclaw boy ten points for a correct answer. His eyes had lit up, legs twisting with excitement at his first reward, his first contribution to his team.

She was desperate to pee and regretting all of the tea by the time they reached dismissal for lunch. She touched up her makeup quickly and ran back to the classroom, using every minute of the break to revise her plans for the afternoon classes, determined to do better with her oldest students.

Her fifth-year class contained all houses and was her largest of all. Nearly thirty students filled the dungeon, raising the temperature in the room quickly. She introduced herself, waiting for the snarling she expected from students who might be more aware of her name, but hearing little but a few whispers from the Gryffindors. She let them arrange themselves into groups of three, noting on parchment the pairings and relative skills of the students, the tension or friendships that would be unproductive in class.

They were assigned a simple potion to brew, but one that tested their awareness of the simple tenants of potion making and their precision with ingredients. They desperately lacked structure, with multiple team members stumbling over each other to get to the ingredient closet or arguing about the next instructions. Pansy learned more about her students by sitting back at her desk and listening than she had perusing pages of notes. She dismissed them with the (unconventional) homework of a short reflection on how their groups could improve their efficiency and teamwork.

Her sixth-year class went similarly, though the advanced students did put off a stronger sense of being wary of her, rumors of her reputation whispering through the class. The much smaller class, only 14 students, five of whom were Ravenclaws, worked together much more efficiently, however. She noted team members she would definitely be moving around, but found the students who had made it to the NEWT-preparation level course were earnestly interested in learning the material. They had to hide it behind a facade of teenage apathy, naturally, which Pansy understood well.

To get an idea of their handle on the concepts and abilities in brewing, she excitedly presented them with the challenge of one of the half-blood prince's potions (actually, this one had a note beside it that credited most of the steps to L.E.). Without preconceived notions of the preparation from the textbook, they were forced to rely on their knowledge and apply it directly. Some groups excelled. And though she hid it nearly as well as they did, Pansy was thrilled.

Her final class, her eight-person NEWT-level course, was already her biggest challenge. She had known it would be; they had hardly learned much in her seventh year and she had far less context for the curriculum.

By the time the seventh years were all gathered in the room, restless and missing the earlier dinner hours for the optional period, Pansy had scrapped the lesson plan she had laid out for the day. If the rest of the day had been any indication, these students would know who she was. They would have been kids when the Battle of Hogwarts took place, and plenty aware of the events of that year, especially the pure and half-bloods.

Pansy sat at the edge of her desk, the hem of her long navy dress dancing against the tops of her feet.

"Good evening." She began, her breathing under control as she intentionally took her time. "I know some of you may know who I am, but I hope I can earn your trust as simply Professor Parkinson." She ignored the murmuring between two Ravenclaws in the back.

"Given the advanced level of this course and our class size, I intend to make this a more collaborative learning environment than what you may be used to from Professor Slughorn." A few skeptical faces from a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin. "I mean him no disrespect- he was my teacher too, and I'll admit, only to you all, that I was fascinated with potions even then."

She hopped down from the desk. "I still am- and I believe you would only be in this course if you are too." Grabbing an eraser, she wiped across the chalkboard that had held instructions for her sixth years. "I'd like this to be as much a course for you as it is to prepare you for the NEWTs. What are some concepts you would like to know? Potions you'd like to brew? Ingredients you'd like to play with? Potions you struggled with before and would like to understand better?" The class laughed lightly, a murmur of agreement. "I can't make any promises, but I'll do everything I can to make our wish list-" she wrote the words at the top of the board- "come true."

She held out the chalk, forcing herself to stand there for an excruciating minute before a Slytherin approached her and took the chalk.

"Miss?" Pansy asked, hoping her authority was convincing. "Aeritha Bloom."

"Lovely to meet you, Ms. Bloom."

The girl had a strong stance, long dark hair braided behind her, and big, expressive features. "And you, Professor."

Pansy exhaled her relief. One down.

She didn't watch as Aeritha approached the board. Instead, she reseated herself on her desk and folded her hands together. "I'd like you all to put something on the board. And in the meantime," she took a deep breath, completely unsure of this choice. "And only for today, during class, I'd like to invite you to ask me anything else you'd like."

Eyes widened around the room. Several students' jaws dropped. But Pansy comforted herself. This was her strategy, and she had considered it carefully. Let the seventh years exhaust their curiosity and spread her answers from the top down. Now it just had to work.

She maintained eye contact with the room, expression carefully open and patient. Another student took Aeritha's place at the board.

Finally, a Gryffindor (of fucking course) raised his hand. "Did you offer Harry Potter to Voldemort?"

Pansy grinned. "I love addressing the problem head-on. What was your name?"

"Isaac Drake."

"I appreciate your candor, Mr. Drake."

He nodded. She took a deep breath.

"I would like you to imagine a room full of all of your friends. Your teachers, your boyfriend," Isaac blushed, "or girlfriend, everyone you've known- even the ones you don't like- throughout your time here at Hogwarts. Before the Battle of Hogwarts began, that was the situation I found myself in. All of us crowded into the Great Hall." She stumbled over the name as she continued, "Lord Voldemort cast a spell that made his voice play in everyone's ears. It was as if he was speaking to us individually."

She gulped. This was the tough part, and she said it all as directly as she could make herself. "I had heard his voice before. In person. He tortured members of my family and some of my closest friends. He allowed awful things to happen to people who were my friends and people I didn't get along with. And, to be honest, I had been in classes with Professor Potter my entire time at Hogwarts. I was pretty sure he was going to sacrifice himself no matter what, it was kind of his style." Some tentative laughter. "So, yes, Mr. Drake. I put forward that we agree with Lord Voldemort's offer- one boy in exchange for the safety of everyone else."

Pansy briefly looked at her lap, a mix of shame and vulnerability overwhelming her. "It wasn't a popular choice," she chuckled a little to herself and heard a few students do the same, "and it wasn't the right choice." This she emphasized. "It wasn't the honorable choice. But- IF I somehow found myself in that situation again, I can't honestly say I wouldn't do it again. I think we would all do terrible, dishonorable things to save the lives of the people we love, and I think Professor Potter would agree with that."

The room was silent for a while. Pansy watched them process what she had said.

A Hufflepuff girl raised her hand.

"Yes, miss.-?"

"Eva Kosman"

"Ms. Kosman."

"I have two questions."

"Sure."

"First- can we brew a Shrinking Potion? Second, is it true that all Slytherins left before the fighting started?"

Pansy laughed, a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

"First- Absolutely. I think that would be a fun one" Sounds of agreement trickled around the room.

"Second- no. I was never sure where that rumor came from, honestly. Anyone who knows Slytherins know we can identify a winning side fairly well." Light laughter, especially from the two students in green ties. "Professor Slughorn stayed and fought very bravely. Blaise Zabini, a good friend of mine, stayed, as did Theodore Nott- whose father was fighting on the other side. Daphne and Astoria Greengrass got every single student who wasn't of age out of the castle, at great personal risk to themselves." She took a breath. "Draco Malfoy rather famously switched sides in the middle of the battle, as did his mother, a Slytherin herself."

"But you left?" It was Aelitha.

Pansy rubbed her lips together, anxious. "I did, yes. Many students- from all houses- did. I was very afraid, personally, and my father was fighting for Lord Voldemort. He died as a result of injuries from the battle."

"Do you regret it?" A Ravenclaw who looked vaguely familiar.

"I do, yes."

"So you don't regret giving up Potter, but you wish you had fought for him?"

"Professor Potter, but yes. That's correct. I think you'll find as you get older that seventeen, while a mature age when you make a lot of important decisions, is not the wisest you will ever be."

More light, nervous laughter. She was winning them over one at a time.

"Is it true you married Draco Malfoy while he was imprisoned?"

Pansy laughed, unable to help herself. As if that had been among the worst of her crimes.

"I don't think Azkaban hosts weddings." Everyone laughed at that. "But we were married shortly after he was released, yes."

"But now he's with Hermione Granger. Are you angry that he left you for a hero?"

A stab in her gut, and she silently thanked her mother for a lifetime of experience hiding her emotions. "He is still a very good friend of mine, and I do think they," she swallowed something awfully like heartbreak in her throat. "They are very happy together."

"I could never be happy for an arsehole who cheated on me." The voice came from one of the Slytherin girls. The whole class laughed- save one Hufflepuff boy, whose expression was solid stone.

"I think that's enough for today, but my office hours are always open to you. Let's build out this wish list, shall we?" Hands popped up, and Pansy hid her grin as she wrote their ideas on the board. All of them participated.

…

At nine, Pansy was still scratching at scrolls of parchment, drafting new group assignments and desperately revising lesson plans. Her mind raced in the best way. She couldn't write fast enough, her focus hopping from class to class.

"You realize you've now been in this room for twelve straight hours?"

She jumped at the male voice, grabbing her wand instinctively and turning to the door.

"Fuck, Potter, warn a girl next time."

He glanced at the wand in his hand. "Trying to kill me again, Parkinson?"

Pansy groaned. "Not you too."

He walked into the classroom, dragging a chair towards her desk and straddling it backward.

"You were all anybody talked about at dinner, you know. Four students asked me if I had forgiven you."

Pansy raised a brow. "In those words?"

Harry grinned mischievously, twirling his wand in his right hand. "more or less."

"Right. I had a little talk with my seventh years"

"Ah. Nipping it in the bud, hm? That's one strategy."

"I have no intention of being halfway through the year before a bunch of angry parents get me fired. I had one good day, let them come for me now so I can go home."

Potter chuckled and chose to ignore most of that. "So the first day was good?"

Pansy leaned back, grinning despite herself. She was starting to find herself very comfortable around him, despite herself. "I loved it, Potter."

He beamed, broad and conspiratorial. "Welcome to the club. You're fucked now."

They laughed together, something so strange next to the ghosts of their past selves in the same room.

"Are you all like this?" Pansy finally asked.

He shrugged one shoulder. "Most of us. She hides it well, but I think McGonagall has it worse than any of us. Neville's pretty bad, and Elspeth."

Pansy's stomach interrupted with an inconveniently audible grumble.

Harry raised a brow at her. "Did you eat at all today?"

Pansy raised the tea cup that had been her constant companion all day. "Food is for the weak."

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Harry called out for Wendy. The tiny, surprisingly well-dressed house elf appeared with a loud crack.

"Hey Wendy," Potter said as if he was speaking to a friend rather than a servant, "is there anything still downstairs for Ms. Parkinson?"

She was gone as quickly as she came, glancing at Pansy before she snapped her little bony fingers and disappeared.

"Are you friends with all the house elves, Potter?"

He shrugged. "Kinda? Blame-"

"Granger. Trust me, I know."

Potter's laugh was crackling and free. She wondered if she misremembered it or it had changed. Perhaps temporarily dying changed one's laugh, and their ability to befriend old enemies.

Wendy arrived with a tray that held white wine, what looked like a stuffed chicken breast, and a spinach salad. Pansy took it gratefully. "Thank you, Wendy. This looks perfect."

With a smile and a curtsy, the elf was gone.

Pansy dug into the meal shamelessly. "Why do you keep feeding me?"

Harry smiled at her, his eyes twinkling in the warm light. She had to admit he had grown handsome. "Someone has to."

"Feeling guilty that your best friend stole my husband?"

"Was Malfoy really taking care of you?"

Taken aback, Pansy was forced to consider it.

Apparently, her silence had said enough.

Harry climbed off of his chair. "You're allowed to like it, you know."

She pointed at her plate. "The food?"

"No, Parkinson," Harry spoke loudly, leaving the words behind him as he walked out of her classroom. "Being taken care of."

…

At eleven, Pansy finally admitted to herself that she would be a mess if she didn't sleep, but she was too wound up to even think about closing her eyes.

There was no way Longbottom would be in his glass house this late, right?

Of course not. He'd be cuddling Lovegood while she talked about complete nonsense at this time of night. Or asleep already, tucked into his cottage core Gryffindor hobbit hole after a glass of warm milk. Not that it mattered, she reprimanded herself sharply. It was becoming a pattern, these necessary reminders that she was above him, above wanting someone like Longbottom, above wanting like this. She pinched the thickness at her hip hard, a sharp physical sensation to keep her focused.

Pulling on leggings and an old Slytherin hoodie to fight the cold, she took off at a brisk run. The hyperdrive her mind had been in all day finally shut off, and she was just a body, powerful and strong. No history, no men, no potions, no Hogwarts.

She decided to run along the edge of the forest, her feet crunching the pine needles and pounding the looser, fresher dirt. The beat comforted her, controlling her breath. She focused on whatever was ahead of her, reaching goal after goal. Abnormally tall tree, large rock, peek at the lake, shining light ahead.

She had nearly reached the shining light, too low to be a star and almost hidden among the trees, when she even thought twice about what it was. The light was a reflection, a twinkling reflection of the moon's glow. She slowed as she got closer, squinting to see what it was, until she had stopped entirely, mouth agape.

It was a unicorn. She had never seen them this close to the edge of the forest, nearly out in the open.

Pansy didn't dare move. She desperately tried to quiet her breath, still heaving from the cardio, trying not to spook it.

A splash in the lake behind her, the smallest sound echoing through the air, and it was gone.