A/N: I don't own anything you recognize
Their pretty butterfly, light on her feet, the perfect performer, the perfect daughter until the day she wasn't, until the day she deemed defective, unacceptable, and Pansy was thrust into the spotlight instead. Questions on her tongue, ones she couldn't dare ask, ones that meant she wasn't as perfect as they wanted, that she'd be cast aside same as her sister. She held her tongue, playing her part. She knew she was on the wrong side of things, knew she could never believe the same as them, not after Orchid's disappearance, not after the way she was suddenly the only one who mattered and Orchid's name had become taboo. She hid her tears, the fears of the coming war, latching onto Draco, knowing he had a part to play in all this, that by his side she'd be unnoticable by the ever watching eyes of her family. She didn't love him, but playing the love sick girl friend wanting more was easy enough, easy as slipping away at night, as slipping into the library to do her own research, to learn everything there was to know about blood lines, about how the world viewed those who weren't perfect. She knew the answer she sought wasn't here, that none of these books could ever tell her where Orchid was, if she was even alive. Her solitary time was soon invaded by a bushy haired know it all, one who kept to herself seeing Pansy pouring over volume after volume. It was an unspoken thing, but soon they were at the same table, passing book back and forth, their fingertips brushing against the other's as they both tried to find a way to survive a war, a life or death game of chess where they were both merely pawns being used to further someone else's agenda.
