Harry had wandered out into the courtyard, the chill of autumn air biting at his skin. He kicked at a loose stone, frustration building as he imagined how much fun his friends were having in Hogsmeade. The courtyard was mostly empty, save for the occasional group of students passing through. He sighed again, feeling more alone than ever.

As he rounded one of the stone archways, lost in thought, he suddenly bumped into someone.

"Watch it, Potter!"

Harry glanced up, his brow furrowing. Pansy Parkinson stood before him, arms crossed, her usual haughty expression fixed on her face. But what struck him was that she was alone, no gaggle of Slytherins following her around, no Malfoy, no Crabbe, no Goyle.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be off with your precious little friends by now."

Harry clenched his jaw. "I could ask you the same thing. Where's Malfoy and the rest of your crowd?"

Pansy's eyes flickered for a brief moment, but her sneer remained intact. "Not that it's any of your business, but they went without me. Like I'd want to be stuck with them all day."

Harry blinked, surprised at the slight irritation in her tone. It almost sounded like disappointment.

"Well," he muttered, looking away, "I couldn't go either. No permission slip."

Pansy seemed to hesitate, her eyes scanning the empty courtyard around them. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something, but then she merely scoffed. "Figures."

They stood there in awkward silence, the sound of distant chatter drifting from the castle as the other students enjoyed their trip.

Harry shifted on his feet, unsure of what to do next. Pansy was never someone he'd willingly have a conversation with, but today, something was different. Maybe it was because they were both left behind.

"You don't seem all that happy about missing out," Harry finally said, breaking the silence.

Pansy rolled her eyes, though it seemed more out of habit than actual annoyance. "Oh, and I suppose you're thrilled to be here alone?"

Harry shrugged. "Not exactly. But it happens."

Pansy looked at him for a moment, her arms still crossed. "Well, it's not like Hogsmeade is all that great anyway," she said, her voice lacking its usual sharpness. "Crowded shops, overpriced sweets, and.."

"Zonko's?" Harry cut in with a small smirk.

She gave him a side glance, the corner of her mouth twitching as if she was fighting a smile. "Okay, maybe Zonko's isn't the worst."

For the first time, Harry realized they weren't trading insults. Instead, they were almost... talking. It was strange, unsettling even, but he decided to go with it.

The unexpected reply caught Harry off guard. He studied her, trying to understand why she wasn't being her usual cruel self. For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something in her expression like she was letting her guard down, just a little.

"I guess it isn't," he said, his voice softening.

"You know," Pansy said after a moment, her voice quieter than before, "you're lucky in a way."

Harry blinked. "How do you figure?"

"You've got Weasley and Granger, don't you? Always hanging around you, always... there." Her eyes seemed to darken, though her face remained calm. "Not everyone's got friends like that."

It was such an uncharacteristic thing for her to say that Harry almost didn't know how to respond. He glanced at her, seeing her in a new light for the first time. Maybe Pansy, like him, was lonelier than she let on.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I guess I am."

Pansy gave a faint snort, but it lacked its usual bite. "Well, don't get all sentimental, Potter. I'm not trying to make you feel better."

Harry managed a small smile. "Didn't think you were."

Harry gave her a final glance, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, almost friendly gesture. Then, deciding it was time to go, he turned on his heel to leave.

"Potter, wait," Pansy's voice came, sharp but tinged with something almost nervous.

He paused, turning halfway to look at her, a hint of surprise on his face. Pansy Parkinson didn't ask people to stop. At least, not without some cutting remark to follow.

"What is it?" he asked, trying not to sound too curious.

Pansy hesitated, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. She looked away for a moment, as though weighing whether to speak at all. Her usual air of superiority seemed to falter.

"Why do you stick with them?" she finally blurted, her voice lower, quieter. "Weasley and Granger. Why do you bother?"

Harry blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What do you mean?"

Pansy shifted uncomfortably, her eyes not meeting his. "I mean, Weasley's poor and... Granger's a well, a Muggle-born. You're famous. You could have... better company."

Her words trailed off, and Harry could see the discomfort written on her face. It wasn't the snide insult he was used to; it was something different. It was as if she genuinely didn't understand.

Harry stared at her for a moment, thinking about what to say. "They're my friends, Parkinson," he replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "They've been with me through... everything. That's all that matters."

Pansy looked down at her shoes, biting her lip slightly. Her tough exterior cracked just a bit more, as if she was wrestling with something she didn't quite know how to express.

"So, you wouldn't just... drop them?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry frowned slightly, sensing something more behind her question. "No," he said softly. "I wouldn't. Why would I?"

Pansy didn't answer. She looked away, her expression unreadable, before she finally muttered, "Never mind."

Harry lingered for a moment, sensing there was something more to Pansy's question, but she wasn't offering any explanations.

"See you around, Parkinson," he said, turning away.

As his footsteps echoed through the courtyard, Pansy remained where she stood, watching him disappear around the corner. Once he was gone, she uncrossed her arms and exhaled, her composure slipping just enough for her to feel the weight of her own thoughts.

Why did she ask that? Why did she care?

Her mind replayed the moment over and over, but no clear answer surfaced. She didn't like Potter—at least, she didn't think she did. Yet something about the way he defended his friends, so easily and without hesitation, struck a chord in her. She had always prided herself on being loyal to her circle, to Draco and the rest, but lately... lately, that loyalty felt more like an obligation.

With a frustrated sigh, Pansy brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and stared at the empty courtyard, trying to shake the nagging feeling that, in a strange way, she might have envied Harry. Not for his fame or his reputation, but for the simple truth that he had people who stood by him, no matter what.

And perhaps, deep down, she wondered if anyone would ever do the same for her.

It had been a month since that awkward conversation in the courtyard, and Pansy hadn't thought much of it since. She'd shoved it to the back of her mind, focusing instead on maintaining her usual aloof demeanor, sticking close to Draco and her group. Things had returned to normal—at least on the surface.

One crisp evening, Pansy, Draco, and a few other Slytherins were making their way back to the castle after sneaking out to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Draco had been showing off, bragging about some wild stories he'd heard about the creatures lurking in the shadows. Pansy wasn't impressed, but she laughed along, as always.

The group strolled through the darkening grounds, moonlight casting eerie shadows on the path. They were nearly at the edge of the forest when a sudden, chilling howl pierced the air.

"What was that?" Blaise asked, looking around nervously.

Before anyone could answer, something large and fast moved in the distance, just beyond the trees. The hairs on the back of Pansy's neck stood up, her eyes widening as she tried to make out the uhh shape. It was too fast, too shadowy.

"Probably just a spider ," Draco said, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.

But the creature was no spider...

Without warning, a massive, dark figure lunged from the tree line, rushing toward them with terrifying speed. Pansy barely had time to scream as the creature something that looked like a cross between a large wolf and a bat charged at them, glowing red eyes locked on its prey.

Pandemonium broke out. Draco bolted without a second thought, shouting something about getting help. Blaise and the others followed, running as fast as they could toward the castle. Pansy was left alone, frozen in terror.

The creature's fangs gleamed as it leapt at her. Pansy's instincts finally kicked in, and she ducked, falling to the ground as the beast narrowly missed her. She scrambled to her feet, heart pounding, but her legs felt like lead. It was coming back for her. She could see it in its eyes this time, it wouldn't miss.

She braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut, knowing there was no escape.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and the creature let out a deafening roar of pain. Pansy opened her eyes just in time to see the beast knocked backward by a stunning spell. She blinked, dazed and confused, as the shadowy form of her savior stepped in front of her.

"Get back!" shouted a familiar voice.

Harry Potter stood between Pansy and the creature, his wand drawn, his face tense with concentration. He cast another spell, forcing the beast further away from them, its glowing eyes glaring back with rage.

"Potter?" Pansy gasped, struggling to find her voice as her heart raced.

He didn't glance back at her, keeping his focus on the creature. "Are you okay?" he asked, his tone urgent but steady.

Pansy nodded, though she wasn't sure if he could see it. "Y-Yes... I think so."

The creature roared again, preparing to charge, but Harry was faster. With a determined flick of his wand, he sent a blinding blast of light straight at it. The creature let out a final, guttural snarl before turning and vanishing back into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest, disappearing as quickly as it had come.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Harry slowly lowered his wand, breathing heavily. He turned to face Pansy, who was still staring at him in shock.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, his eyes scanning her for any sign of injury.

Pansy swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand up straight. "I... I'm fine," she said, though her voice wavered. "But... why did you—?"

"I saw it from the castle," Harry interrupted, shaking his head. "I came to help."

Pansy stared at him, utterly bewildered. "You came to help *me*?"

Harry shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. "I wasn't going to just let it attack you."

Pansy felt a strange mix of emotions—gratitude, confusion, and a flicker of something she didn't want to admit. She couldn't find the words, so instead, she simply nodded.

Before she could say anything else, Draco came barreling back toward them, flanked by several professors. "What happened? Did you see the creature? Pansy, are you alright?" he asked, his eyes wide with panic.

"I'm fine," Pansy muttered, her gaze still on Harry. "Potter... he saved me."

Draco's face twisted with disbelief and annoyance. "*Potter*? YOU of all people?"

Harry ignored him, already backing away. "You're safe now," he said quietly to Pansy before turning to leave, heading back to the castle alone.

As she watched him walk away, Pansy's mind whirled. She had never seen Harry in this light—someone who would risk himself to save her, even after everything. And for the second time in a month, she found herself alone with her thoughts, wondering what it was about him that made him so different from the others.

For the first time, she couldn't hate him. And that scared her more than any creature ever could.

The following morning, the Slytherin table in the Great Hall was buzzing with hushed conversations about what had happened the previous evening. Pansy sat among her usual group: Draco, Blaise, Daphne, and a few others but the mood was tense. News of the strange creature that had attacked them near the Forbidden Forest had spread quickly, but so had the fact that Harry Potter had been the one to save them.

"Honestly," Draco grumbled, his voice laced with irritation as he stabbed at his breakfast, "I could've handled it if Potter hadn't interfered.

Daphne scoffed, shaking her head. "Yeah sure, Malfoy. I heard you all ran away."

Draco shot him a glare. "I wasn't running. I was... assessing the situation."

"Right," Daphne chimed in, rolling her eyes. "The situation where Potter had to swoop in and save you lot because none of you knew what to do."

Pansy remained quiet, picking at her toast but not really eating. She was still replaying the events in her mind, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on her. She hadn't spoken to anyone about what had happened—how terrifying that creature had been, or the fact that she'd been frozen in fear until Potter showed up. Even now, the thought of it made her skin crawl.

But what bothered her most was that she couldn't get rid of that gnawing sense of... something. Gratitude, maybe. Confusion, definitely.

"So tell me again so Potter was there right," Daphne said suddenly, directing her comment at Pansy. "What's the story with that?"

Draco scoffed before Pansy could answer. "The story is that Potter thinks he's the hero of Hogwarts, as usual. Always needing to show off." His voice was bitter, but it couldn't hide the fact that he hadn't exactly been quick to react during the attack.

"He technically saved us," Blaise pointed out, leaning back in his seat with a smirk.

Pansy, kept her gaze down on her plate, her expression unreadable. She was torn. Part of her wanted to brush off the incident, to dismiss what had happened and keep her usual Slytherin pride intact. But the other part the part that remembered the look in Potter's eyes when he asked if she was okay felt something entirely different.

"Potter just... showed up," she finally said, her voice low. "It's not like we asked him to."

Draco huffed. "Exactly. We didn't need his help. I had it under control."

Pansy shot him a quick glance, but this time, she couldn't help the small twinge of frustration that bubbled up. Draco was trying to save face, but he hadn't done anything. None of them had. And that creature had been seconds away from mauling her.

"We didn't have it under control," she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.

Blaise, who had been watching her closely, raised an eyebrow. "What was that, Pansy?"

She looked up, meeting his gaze for a brief moment. "I said, we didn't have it under control. That thing was... different. Potter did what he had to."

The table went silent. Draco's eyes widened in surprise, and Daphne looked between Pansy and Draco, her lips parted in shock.

"So, you're admitting Potter saved you?" Daphne asked, her voice incredulous.

Pansy shifted uncomfortably. She didn't want to admit it, not out loud, but the truth was staring her in the face. "I'm saying that if he hadn't shown up, that thing might've..." She trailed off, the words catching in her throat.

Draco sneered, crossing his arms. "So, now you're defending Potter?"

"I'm not defending him!" Pansy snapped, her voice louder than she intended. Several students at nearby tables glanced over. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "I'm just saying... he didn't have to help us. But he did."

Blaise leaned in, a sly smile playing at his lips. "Interesting. Never thought I'd see the day when Pansy Parkinson would sing Harry Potter's praises."

Pansy shot him a glare. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not praising him. It's just... facts. That's all."

But even as the words left her mouth, Pansy could feel something shifting. She didn't like Potter—he was still Harry bloody Potter, after all—but after what had happened, she couldn't deny that there was more to him than the fame and hero complex. He could've let her fend for herself. He didn't. And for some reason, that was bothering her more than it should.

Draco's face twisted into a scowl, but he said nothing, choosing instead to stab his eggs with unnecessary force.

As the conversation around her turned to something else, Pansy kept her thoughts to herself. After a while she excused herself and headed off somewhere else.

Pansy wandered through the halls, her footsteps echoing in the stillness of the empty corridor. The further she got from the Great Hall, the more her thoughts unraveled. She hated feeling like this unsure, conflicted. It was as though something inside her had shifted, but she couldn't figure out what it meant or how to handle it.

Potter had saved her, and she was supposed to just forget about it, right? That's what Draco would expect, what all of Slytherin would expect. But there was no ignoring what had happened or how it had made her feel.

Pansy found herself at one of the castle's many windows, looking out over the frost-covered grounds. The sight of students bundled up, heading off to their classes, seemed so distant compared to the chaos of the night before.

Why had Harry done it? Why save her? He could've easily left her there, let her fend for herself like any other Slytherin might have done to him. But he didn't. He didn't hesitate. He acted as if it didn't matter who she was, or how she'd treated him in the past.

"Why do you care?" she muttered to herself, her breath fogging the window as she leaned against it.

As she stood there, lost in her thoughts, footsteps approached from behind. Pansy tensed, turning her head slightly, expecting to see one of her friends coming to find her. But when she glanced over her shoulder, it wasn't Draco, Blaise, or even Millicent.

It was Harry.

He had clearly noticed her leave the Great Hall, and now he stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Parkinson," he said, his tone neutral, not accusing or mocking, just..there.

Pansy turned fully to face him, crossing her arms defensively. "What do you want, Potter?" she asked, her voice sharper than intended. She had no idea why he was here, but the knot of confusion and vulnerability in her chest was making her defensive.

Harry didn't answer right away. He looked at her for a moment, as if assessing her, then glanced toward the window. "Just... checking to see if you're okay," he finally said, shrugging slightly.

Pansy blinked, taken aback. Of all the things she had expected him to say, that wasn't it. "Why?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "You don't owe me anything."

Harry met her gaze, his expression steady. "I didn't save you because I owed you anything," he said simply. "I did it because it was the right thing to do."

Pansy stared at him, struggling to wrap her head around his words. It was the same thing she had seen last night in the way he acted, but hearing him say it aloud made it more real. She had spent so much time thinking about people in terms of debts and loyalties, wondering who would have her back and who wouldn't, that the idea of someone doing something just because it was right seemed foreign.

"I don't get you," she muttered, shaking her head. "You don't have to be like that."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like... a hero," she snapped, the word coming out harsher than she intended. "I know what people say about you. Always playing the savior."

Harry's jaw clenched slightly, but he didn't bite back. "I'm not playing anything," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I just do what I think is right."

There it was again—that simplicity, that certainty in his actions. It made Pansy feel uneasy because she couldn't deny the truth in it.

For a long moment, she didn't respond. She looked away, biting the inside of her cheek, fighting with the words that wanted to come out. But finally, the part of her that had been restless since last night spoke.

"I don't get why you'd save me," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "After everything. After all the stuff I've said, what we've done. Why would you risk yourself for someone like me?"

Harry was silent for a beat, as if weighing his answer. Then, he sighed. "Because it doesn't matter who you are, Parkinson. Everyone deserves help when they need it."

Pansy's throat tightened at his words. She wasn't used to hearing things like that. In Slytherin, everything was about status, alliances, and loyalty to those who benefitted you. The idea that someone would just help without expecting anything in return was... unsettling.

Harry shifted his weight, clearly ready to leave her to her thoughts. "Look, you don't have to get it. But I'm not your enemy, Parkinson. At least, I don't think I need to be." He turned to go, but paused one last time, glancing back at her. "You're better than you think you are."

And with that, he walked away, leaving her standing by the window, stunned.

Pansy watched him disappear down the corridor, her heart pounding in her chest. His words echoed in her mind, unsettling her more than she cared to admit. *You're better than you think you are.*

She wasn't sure what that meant. But for the first time in a long time, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she was more than just the sharp-tongued, sneering Slytherin she'd always let herself be.

That night, Pansy lay in her bed, staring at the dark ceiling of the Slytherin dormitory. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of Daphne and Millicent shifting in their sleep. But Pansy couldn't relax. Her mind kept drifting back to her conversation with Harry earlier that day.

His words replayed in her head like a broken record. *You're better than you think you are.*

She didn't know why those words unsettled her so much. Maybe it was because no one had ever said something like that to her before. Or maybe it was because, deep down, a part of her wanted to believe it.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed her, and she fell into a restless sleep. But even then, she couldn't escape him.

In her dreams, Pansy found herself outside again in the forest alone this time with just her and the beast.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the darkness closed in. She tried to raise her wand, but her hands wouldn't cooperate. The cold seeped into her bones, and the overwhelming sense of dread returned, suffocating her.

Just when it felt like the beast was going to attack her, The creature roared, preparing to charge, but Potter suddenly appeared out of nowhere. With a determined flick of his wand, he sent a blinding blast of light straight at it. The creature let out a final, guttural snarl before turning and vanishing back into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest just like what happened that day.

And then he appeared Harry. He stood there, his face calm and determined, just as he had been the night before. But this time, He was looking directly at her, his green eyes steady and unwavering, as though he saw something in her that she couldn't see in herself.

"You're better than you think you are," he said again, his voice echoing in the cold silence.

Pansy tried to speak, to deny it, to snap at him like she usually would, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she just stared at him, feeling a strange, unnameable warmth settle in her chest.

The scene shifted, and suddenly, they weren't in the forbidden forest anymore. They were standing in the soft light of a late afternoon near the Black Lake. The sky was clear, and the cold was gone, replaced by a gentle breeze that rippled the surface of the water.

Harry stood beside her, his expression softer now. He wasn't the hero saving her from Gryffindor she was supposed to dislike. He was just... Harry, and for some reason, the sight of him like this, relaxed and unguarded, made her heart race.

Pansy blinked, confused. This was a dream—it had to be. But it felt so real, the warmth of the sun on her skin, the way her heart fluttered as Harry turned to her, a small, almost shy smile on his face.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice quieter than she expected.

He didn't answer right away, but when he did, it wasn't what she expected. "Why are *you* here?"

Pansy frowned, about to snap back with a retort, but the words died on her lips. She didn't know why she was here. She didn't know why she was dreaming about him, of all people.

Harry Potter the last person she would have ever imagined invading her thoughts.

The dream began to blur around the edges, the lake and the warmth of the sun fading away as her consciousness pulled her back to reality. But before she woke, she caught one last glimpse of Harry, standing there, his expression soft, as if waiting for something. Waiting for her to figure out what she was feeling.

Pansy jolted awake, her heart pounding in the darkness of the dormitory. She sat up, breathing heavily, trying to shake the vivid images from her mind. But no matter how much she tried to push them away, the memory of his smile and the warmth of his presence lingered.

She lay back down, pulling the covers up to her chin, staring at the ceiling. The dream felt too real, too close. And for the first time in her life, Pansy Parkinson didn't know what to do with the way Harry Potter made her feel.

Meanwhile Harry sat by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, the warmth of the flames doing little to ease the weight on his mind. His friends, Ron and Hermione, were seated nearby Ron engrossed in a game of wizard chess, and Hermione flipping through *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3*.

Despite the normalcy of the scene, Harry's thoughts were far from it.

It had been a strange few days since the little incident at the forbidden forest and his unexpected encounter with Pansy Parkinson kept replaying in his mind. He had saved Slytherins before, of course he wasn't about to let anyone get hurt but something about Pansy's reaction lingered with him. The way she had looked at him afterward, almost... vulnerable, as if she were seeing him in a different light.

He didn't understand it, and frankly, he didn't want to dwell on it. There was enough going on in his life worrying about Sirius Black, the Dementors, and his lessons with Professor Lupin that the last thing he needed was to start thinking about Pansy Parkinson of all people.

But that didn't stop her from creeping into his thoughts.

"Harry, you all right, mate?" Ron's voice snapped him out of his reverie. He glanced up to see his best friend staring at him, eyebrow raised. "You've been staring into the fire for the past five minutes. What's on your mind?"

Harry shook his head, trying to brush it off. "Nothing. Just... thinking."

Hermione looked up from her book, her keen eyes narrowing as if she could sense there was more going on than Harry was letting on. "You've been a bit distracted lately," she observed. "Is it about the Dementors? Or something to do with Sirius Black?"

Harry hesitated. He could feel their eyes on him, waiting for an answer. He wasn't about to tell them that Pansy Parkinson had been taking up more space in his head than he cared to admit. Not even Ron would understand that.

"No, it's not that," Harry said finally, though it wasn't entirely true. "I mean, there's a lot going on, but it's nothing I can't handle."

Ron, always less concerned with deep feelings, nodded, satisfied with the answer. "Well, you'll feel better after a good match of Quidditch. That usually clears your head."

Harry managed a small smile. Quidditch usually did help, but lately, even the thrill of the game couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting back to Pansy. He hadn't meant to talk to her the way he had that day in the corridor. It just... happened. She had seemed so shaken by that creature, so uncharacteristically quiet. And when she had asked him why he saved her, he could see that she genuinely didn't understand.

The thing was, Harry didn't see it as some grand gesture. He had just done what he always did—helped someone who needed it. But it was clear that to Pansy, it meant something more.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Why did he even care what it meant to her? Pansy was part of Draco Malfoy's gang, a Slytherin who had made her fair share of snide comments about him and his friends over the years.

Yet, for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her than just that.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice was softer now, drawing him back to the present. She had put her book down, her brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a lot to think about."

Hermione studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "Well, if you need to talk, you know we're here."

"Thanks," he said, appreciating the offer but knowing there were some things he wasn't ready to talk about. Not yet, anyway.

As the fire crackled and Ron muttered something about finally beating his chess piece, Harry's mind wandered back to Pansy once again. He couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking, whether she was as confused about everything as he was. He hadn't expected to see that side of her—the girl behind the sharp words and icy demeanor. The way she had looked at him in the courtyard, almost asking for something more than just a quick explanation, had caught him off guard.

And then there was that moment when she had asked why he saved her.

Harry didn't have a perfect answer to that. He had always believed in helping people, no matter who they were. But something about the way Pansy had asked made him feel like it was about more than just saving her from the beast. It was about something deeper, something she was grappling with on her own.

He sighed again, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. He told himself that he needed to focus on the important things his studies, Sirius Black, staying out of trouble. But no matter how hard he tried, Pansy Parkinson kept slipping into his thoughts.

And the strangest part was, he wasn't sure he wanted her to stop.

The atmosphere in the Gryffindor common room was electric as the day of the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff arrived. Harry could feel the excitement buzzing around him, but his mind was still clouded with thoughts of Pansy and the events of the past few days. He tried to shake it off, focusing instead on the game ahead.

The match started off with a fierce energy, both teams fighting for every point. Harry flew through the air, weaving between his teammates and the opposing players, adrenaline pumping. But midway through the game, as he chased after the Golden Snitch, the familiar chill swept over him. He knew it all too well the presence of Dementors lurking nearby.

Just as he spotted the Snitch fluttering in the distance, the darkness descended upon him. The chilling sensation paralyzed him, memories flashing in his mind, and he felt himself losing control of his broom. In that moment of weakness, he plummeted from the sky.

The last thing he remembered was the ground rushing up to meet him.

Harry lay in the hospital wing, his body aching from the fall during the Quidditch match. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. Madam Pomfrey had insisted he rest, but his mind was still buzzing with what had happened. The Dementors had come out of nowhere, and he'd collapsed in front of everyone. The humiliation stung almost as much as the physical pain.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of potions bottles as Madam Pomfrey busied herself at the far end of the wing. Harry turned his head slightly on the pillow, pretending to still be asleep when he heard the soft creak of the door opening. Footsteps, light and hesitant, approached his bed.

He frowned inwardly, unsure of who it could be. Hermione and Ron had already visited earlier, assuring him that Gryffindor's defeat wasn't his fault. They had stayed with him until Madam Pomfrey shooed them out, saying he needed quiet. So who was here now?

The visitor stood by his bed for a long moment, not saying anything. Harry's curiosity began to gnaw at him, but he kept his eyes closed, breathing steadily as if still resting.

Then, a quiet voice broke the silence. "You're better than they think you are, you know."

Harry's heart skipped. It wasn't Hermione, and it definitely wasn't Ron. Slowly, as the voice settled in his mind, he recognized it.

Pansy Parkinson.

He fought the urge to react, remaining still, unsure why she would be here. What did she want?

"I don't know why I came here," she muttered softly, more to herself than to him. "I guess... I just wanted to say thanks. For what you did the other day." There was a pause, and Harry could almost feel her hesitating. "I was too stubborn to say it properly before."

The room was so still that Harry could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Pansy? Thanking him? He hadn't expected this. Not from her.

She sighed quietly. "I don't really expect you to care, or even to hear me right now, but... yeah. Thanks."

There was another long silence. Harry wondered if she was about to leave, and for some reason, the thought of her walking out without him acknowledging her made his chest tighten. After everything that had happened, he didn't want her to think he didn't care—or that he was ignoring her.

Harry's fingers twitched slightly as he finally decided to let her know he wasn't asleep.

"I'm awake," he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

He heard Pansy gasp softly, her footsteps shifting awkwardly as if she was about to bolt.

"I—" Her voice faltered. "You were pretending?"

Harry opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the dim light of the hospital wing. His gaze found hers, standing beside his bed with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment on her face. "Yeah," he admitted, his lips curling slightly. "I wasn't sure who it was."

Pansy shifted her weight from foot to foot, her arms crossed over her chest defensively. "Well, now you know." She looked like she was regretting coming at all. "I didn't mean to—" She trailed off, glancing toward the door as if considering leaving.

"Wait," Harry said, sitting up a bit, wincing at the soreness in his ribs. "You don't have to go."

Pansy looked at him warily, her usual guarded expression back in place. "Why not? You're probably not in the mood for company."

Harry shrugged, his tone softer. "You came all the way here. Might as well stay a bit."

For a moment, she looked unsure. But then, to Harry's surprise, she nodded slightly and took a seat in the chair next to his bed. There was an awkward silence as neither of them knew quite what to say.

"So... thanks?" Harry said, a bit uncertain, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "For... thanking me, I guess?"

Pansy rolled her eyes, though there was no real malice behind it. "Don't make it weird, Potter."

Harry chuckled, the sound surprising even himself. "I'll try not to."

They sat there in silence for a few moments, the tension from earlier fading slightly. For the first time, Harry realized that maybe Pansy wasn't exactly who he'd thought she was just like she was beginning to see him differently, too.

"I meant what I said earlier, you know," he said after a while. "You're better than you think you are."

Pansy didn't respond right away, her gaze fixed on the floor. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer than before. "You don't know anything about me."

"Maybe," Harry admitted. "But I've seen enough to know there's more to you than what everyone else sees."

Pansy glanced at him, her eyes searching his face as if trying to figure out if he was serious. After a moment, she sighed, leaning back in the chair. "You're weird, Potter."

Harry grinned. "You're just figuring that out?"

Pansy huffed, though her lips twitched in what might've been the start of a smile.

Pansy's eyes then drifted to the bandage wrapped around Harry's head, a remnant of his fall during the match. She frowned slightly, noticing it had come loose.

Without a word, she leaned forward, surprising Harry by reaching for it. "Hold still," she muttered, her fingers gently adjusting the bandage.

The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, and Harry felt a warmth spread through him, both comforting and disarming.

"Better?" she asked, her voice softening as she pulled her hand back, but her gaze lingered on him, a mix of concern and something deeper.

"Yeah," he replied, his heart racing. "Thanks, Pansy."

There was a moment of quiet as they held each other's gaze, an unspoken understanding passing between them. But then, breaking the spell, Pansy took a breath, her expression shifting slightly.

"Potter," she began, a hint of uncertainty in her tone. "I was wondering if you'd want to hang out sometime. You know, when you're feeling better."

The question hung in the air, and for a heartbeat, Harry felt a rush of hope. The idea of spending time with her outside of their usual interactions was appealing. But then the reality of his situation crashed down around him—his reputation, the expectations from his friends and the rest of the school.

"I…" he stammered, hesitating. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Pansy's face fell, the light in her eyes dimming as she processed his words. "Why not?" she asked, though her voice was already tinged with disappointment. "It's just hanging out. I thought maybe we could actually talk without all the noise."

"Yeah, but…" Harry struggled to find the right words. "You know how it is. Everyone would freak out. I can't just hang out with a Slytherin without causing a scene."

Her expression hardened slightly, the defiance creeping back in. "So you'd rather pretend I don't exist?"

"That's not it," he said quickly, trying to explain. "It's just… complicated."

"Complicated?" she echoed, the hurt evident in her tone. "You're Harry Potter. You can do what you want. Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?"

"Because it does," he said, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "You don't understand the kind of attention I get. I can't afford to make things harder for you—"

"Harder for me?" Pansy interrupted, her voice rising. "I'm not some delicate flower, Potter. I can handle myself! If you're too scared to hang out with me because of what people will say, then maybe you're not as brave as they think."

Her words stung, and he could see the hurt and anger battling for dominance in her expression. The flicker of vulnerability from earlier was gone, replaced by the familiar Slytherin armor.

"Pansy, I didn't mean it like that," he tried to reason, but she stood up abruptly, crossing her arms defensively.

"Whatever, Potter. I get it. You're a hero, and I'm just a Slytherin. I should've known better," she said, her voice cool and clipped.

"Pansy, wait!" he called after her, but she didn't look back as she turned and strode out of the hospital wing, the door slamming behind her.

Harry sank back against the pillow, frustration and regret mingling in his chest. He wanted to reach out to her, to explain that it wasn't about her, but about the world they lived in—the expectations, the judgments. But now, he was left with the weight of unspoken words and a growing sense of sadness.

He knew he had hurt her, and it gnawed at him. Deep down, he realized that their lives were complicated, but so was this strange connection he felt with her. And now, as he lay there alone, the echo of her disappointment lingered in the air, a painful reminder of what could have been.