"I'm not sure," Hermione says gently. "I haven't heard it yet."
"Oh." Pansy wants to say more, but talking seems inordinately difficult right now. So instead, she falls silent, all the while hoping Hermione won't mind her lack of participation. But the other witch doesn't seem to care; she seems more than content to let the comfortable silence linger between them as she continues to idly play with Pansy's hair.
"Feels good," Pansy manages to murmur in a sleep-thick voice.
"Good," Hermione whispers back.
"Don't want to move."
"You don't have to. I'm not going anywhere. Just rest."
Pansy hums at the reply. She's dimly aware of the lingering press of soft lips against her temple, and even though the room around them is still cold, the gentle touch makes Pansy feel unbelievably warm.
They stay wrapped up in each other as the minutes tick by, and Pansy's almost asleep when she hears a gentle tap on Snape's door, followed by a creaking sound.
"Miss Granger? Miss Parkinson?"
There's a soft voice at the door, but Pansy's far too sleepy to turn around and face whoever it is. Instead, she decides to pull Hermione even closer in some kind of misguided attempt to make the unwanted intruder realize they're trespassing and leave.
"Professor," Hermione says, sounding somewhat embarrassed. Her arm tightens around Pansy, but she doesn't pull away. "Sorry, I…I didn't…I mean, we shouldn't have…"
"Calm down, Miss Granger, I didn't come here to chastise you."
Pansy finally manages to place the soft Scottish accent. "Is that McGonagall?" she mumbles, her lips brushing against Hermione's neck once more. Hermione involuntarily shivers against her as Pansy says, "tell her she can come to our sleepover too, but she can't snuggle with you, either."
The skin Pansy's resting against heats up, and she rubs her face against it. So warm.
"I wanted to give you two time to talk, but I'm afraid you can't stay the night in Professor Snape's office. And what's more, it looks like Miss Parkinson is in desperate need of a good night's rest."
"Of course. Of course, I'm sorry, I'll just…" Hermione shifts gently, then whispers, "Pansy? Pansy, love, you've got to wake up now."
It's perhaps a testament to how far gone Pansy is that she doesn't even register the term of endearment as it slips from Hermione's lips.
"I'm awake," Pansy says a bit stupidly, but she doesn't bother moving at all.
"Of course you are," Hermione says, a soft, teasing note in her voice. Carefully, she unwinds her arm from around Pansy and uses it to lightly press against her, urging her to stand up. "Come on. Up you get."
With a deep groan and plenty of help from Hermione, Pansy manages to haul herself to her feet. Once she's standing, she sways on the spot, and immediately, Hermione reaches out to steady her, placing one hand on her arm and the other at the small of her back. Slowly, Pansy drags her eyes open to find McGonagall watching them with a knowing smile. "Hello, Professor," Pansy says through a yawn.
"Hello again, Miss Parkinson. I believe it's time we get you to bed."
"Okay," Pansy says agreeably. With more assistance from Hermione, she somehow manages to exit Snape's office. Her mind is almost completely shut down, but as she walks toward the Dungeons, propped up between Hermione—who keeps a comforting hand at her back the entire time—and Professor McGonagall, she remembers there's something important she needs to tell the Head of House. She closes her eyes as she desperately tries to make her swirling, blurry thoughts focus, but nothing comes to her.
What was it? What was it?
Closing her eyes proves to be a mistake though, because she immediately finds herself thrust into some hazy, dream land, halfway between sleep and wake. Images flicker behind her closed lids for a while, some good, some awful, and it's only when she feels Hermione coming to a stop beside her that she manages to open her eyes and look up. They're in front of the Slytherin common room.
"Oh. I live here," Pansy supplies helpfully. "Are you going to come in?" she asks, turning to Hermione with hope in her eyes.
Hermione flushes and glances up at McGonagall with concern. "No, I…I can't. I'm afraid I have to go back to the Gryffindor common room." The moment she sees Pansy's face fall with disappointment, she quickly says, "but I'll see you very soon."
"Yes, you will," Pansy says as a grin quickly replaces whatever disappointment had been shining on her face moments before.
Hermione smiles at her fondly before stepping forward to gather Pansy in her arms once more. "Sleep well, Pansy," she murmurs into her ear in a voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of you. You're amazing. Absolutely amazing. Never forget that."
Lips quickly brush against Pansy's cheek, then Hermione steps back and gives McGonagall a nervous, embarrassed smile. "Good night, professor," she says.
"Good night, Miss Granger."
Pansy lifts her fingers to her cheek and runs them lightly over the spot where Hermione's lips had been. She watches as Hermione walks down the hallway, and she doesn't take her gaze off of her until she's climbing the stairs out of the dungeons. Then, she turns back to McGonagall to find her watching her with that same, small smile.
"I trust you can make it to your bed?"
Pansy shrugs. "Probably not, but that's what the couch is for."
"Well, do try your best," McGonagall says dryly. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small vial filled with purple liquid. Some part of Pansy's barely-working brain dimly recognizes it as a Dreamless Sleep Potion, and she reaches for it. "Take this before you sleep," McGonagall says. "If you need more over the coming days, you may ask Madam Pomfrey."
Pansy nods, but before she can say anything, McGonagall says, "and Miss Parkinson? Thank you for keeping Hermione safe. She's very lucky to have someone willing to fight so valiantly for her." She delivers the words calmly, but there's a glint of emotion in her eyes, and even though Pansy can barely remember her own name right now, she still recognizes it as gratitude. Gratitude and perhaps a bit of genuine tenderness. But before Pansy can fully comprehend what the look means, McGonagall says, "now, then. If you need anything, do come find me. Or Professor Snape," she adds as an afterthought. "But in the meantime, good night, Miss Parkinson. Sleep well. And…and bloody well done."
McGonagall doesn't wait for Pansy to reply before turning away and striding down the hallway, but it's not like Pansy would have said anything. She's too startled by both the language and emotion on display from her normally stoic professor, and as she watches her go, she feels a tinge of newfound respect for the woman.
Maybe Gryffindors aren't all bad after all.
Once McGonagall is out of sight, Pansy somehow finds it within her to focus her thoughts long enough to remember the Slytherin password.
"Venomous Tentacula," she finally murmurs, leaning against the wall as she waits for it to open and let her in.
As soon as she's in, she beats all the staggering odds against her and makes it all the way into her room. Daphne is already asleep, and Pansy takes a moment to watch her with soft eyes and a stupidly wide smile. She's sure that tomorrow, Daphne will be positively furious that Pansy didn't wake her and regale her with the entire story immediately, but the thought of retelling the story for a fourth time makes Pansy want to laugh hysterically. So for now, she's simply happy to watch her best friend sleep in peace, content with the knowledge that she's safe.
Eventually, she pops open the vial McGonagall had given her and downs the potion, wincing at the slightly bitter aftertaste. Then, she peels off her bloodstained clothing and casts a few charms to clean herself up. She desperately wants a bath, but she has a feeling if she tries, she'd drown.
Once she feels like a human again, she pulls on her pajamas and falls into bed.
It takes about five seconds total before she's asleep, but in her very last moment of consciousness, Pansy remembers what she wanted to tell McGonagall.
She had wanted to reassure her that her knickers weren'tin the bag Hermione gave her Thursday night.
Oh, well, Pansy thinks easily.
She'll tell her tomorrow.
***
Pansy spends all of Saturday recovering from her ordeal.
She leaves her bed only once for dinner, and even then, she's thoroughly exhausted by the time she manages to drag herself back to her room.
Daphne stays by her side every minute. Pansy had told her the entire story first thing in the morning, and Daphne had listened with alternating fury and horror blazing in her eyes. They had each shed their fair amount of tears over the course of the tale, and after Daphne had finished tightly hugging Pansy, she dried her eyes and said, "I hope you realize I'm never letting you do anything without my supervision again." She had paused, then said, "which of course means I'll eventually have to bear witness to you and Granger shagging, so I'd suggest you develop a taste for exhibitionism, and you develop it quickly."
Pansy had simply rolled her eyes fondly and pulled Daphne in for another hug, taking care to pour everything she felt for her mad, ridiculous best friend into the embrace.
When Pansy wakes on Sunday morning, she feels more or less refreshed. She had ended up taking McGonagall's suggestion and asked Madam Pomfrey for another Dreamless Sleep potion. She didn't want to risk what horrors her subconscious might cook up in the dead of the night, and she also knew she'd have to be at her best for what might just be the most important day of her life.
Today, Robin was going to meet her bard.
Daphne thinks she's absolutely mad.
"It's been less than two days!" Daphne says with exasperation as they finish their late lunch in the Great Hall. "I've taken longer than that to recover from a bad hangnail. Are you sure you're ready for this?"
Pansy takes a sip of her water and shrugs. "I don't know," she says honestly.
It's not like she disagrees with Daphne. She knows it's a bit mad to pick up and move on as if nothing had happened. She knows that she's actively repressing almost every minute of that night and for all intents and purposes, she's probably not in the right headspace to do anything at all, much less finally try and start a real relationship with Hermione. And she also knows that even if things do work out in the way she'd very much like them to, the odds of her being a stable partner right now are slim to none. After all, who would want someone who can't even sleep through the night without the aid of a potion?
But she also knows that going one more day without telling Hermione the truth would be unbearable. She knows that she wants Hermione to have all the information, and to leave the decision of whether or not their relationship should evolve into something more in the other witch's capable hands. She knows that a pleasant distraction is something she could use right about now, and she knows that even though she has to process the trauma she's been through, she also can't let it hold her back from living her life.
So yes, ideally, she'd like to have more time in between these two monumental life changes. But more than that, she'd like to have more time with Hermione. Specifically, more time being something more than a friend to her before the school year ends.
"I don't know if I'm ready," Pansy repeats, "but I know that I want it to happen today. I can't stand the waiting anymore."
Daphne reaches across to Pansy's plate and steals her fifth chip of the day, hastily withdrawing her hand when Pansy swats at it. "I suppose that's fair," Daphne says, popping the chip in her mouth.
"If you wanted chips, why didn't you get them?" Pansy grumbles, lifting her bacon butty for another bite.
"Because I knew you'd get them," Daphne says calmly.
"I see. And what's mine is yours?" Pansy asks, quirking an eyebrow as she remembers Daphne's ludicrous turn of phrase from their Hogsmeade trip weeks ago. Daphne hums in confirmation and Pansy rolls her eyes. "Why is it that ridiculous phrase only ever seems to work in your favor?"
"No one likes a pedant, darling," Daphne says. She reaches for another chip and Pansy exhales sharply, then pushes the plate across the table so it's halfway between them.
"Better?"
"Much." Daphne nibbles on one end of her pilfered chip while she gazes thoughtfully toward the Gryffindor table. Then she says, "do you think Granger's figured it out?"
"Figured what out?"
"That she's been talking to you? I mean…she has to have some idea, right? I know she's remarkably daft when it comes to this sort of thing, but surely the brightest witch of the century or whatever bombastic term they've given her—"
"Brightest witch of our age," Pansy puts in.
"Ridiculous," Daphne mutters before continuing her thought. "Anyway, surely the brightest witch of our agecan put two and two together and realize that her parchment pal sounds remarkably like a certain snark-happy Slytherin in her life?"
"I honestly don't think she suspects anything," Pansy says with a small smile. She's quite pleased she's managed to keep the secret this long.
"I see." Daphne pops the rest of the chip into her mouth, reaches for another, then says, "do you think she'll be upset?"
Pansy shrugs. "Maybe."
It's certainly a possibility. After all, Pansy has been lying for a while now. But she had done it for good reason at the start—she had to make sure Hermione didn't despise her. And then, she had managed to get caught up in the idea of a grand reveal which had delayed her confession perhaps a bit longer than was strictly necessary.
But all that aside, she had tried to tell Hermione the truth two different times. It's not her fault the other witch never lets her get a word in edgewise.
"But even if she is upset, I don't think it'll last," Pansy says, nabbing a chip before Daphne can eat all of them.
"I hope she's mad for ages."
"What? Why?" Pansy asks in surprise. "I thought you wanted me to woo the pants off her."
"I did. But remember, I'm never leaving you alone again. And if I'm going to have to watch you two shag, I'd like to delay it for as long as possible."
"Merlin's balls," Pansy mutters. "You're not watching us shag."
"That's what I thought, too! But I take my duties as your best friend very seriously."
"Watching me shag is not and will never be a part of your duties." Pansy takes another bite of her sandwich, then says, "and anyway, it could all still go sideways. Maybe I'm really not her type."
"Mm. So she just cuddled you for ages in Snape's office, because…?"
"Because she was worried about me," Pansy says, refusing to meet Daphne's gaze. She can feel her cheeks heat up and she hastily picks up her glass for a sip of water. When she finally looks back to Daphne, she's smirking.
"Whatever you need to tell yourself," Daphne says lightly as she finishes her own sandwich. Then, she pushes her plate aside and fixes Pansy with a serious look. "But really. This is a big deal, and if you're not up for it, I'm sure she'll understand. After everything that happened…Merlin, I'd be taking the rest of the year off."
"The thought did cross my mind," Pansy says. "But considering the alternative was going back home, coming back here seemed much better."
"You're not going back there," Daphne says sharply, pointing a chip at Pansy. "I don't care if your mum begs you. If I have things my way, you'll never set foot in that dreadful house again. You're staying at mine this summer until we can find a flat together."
"Oh? Is that an order?"
"It is."
"Well, who am I to disobey a direct order?" Pansy says with a smile.
To be honest, she had secretly been hoping to stay the summer with Daphne, and she's glad she won't have to ask outright. The thought of returning to that place had been one of her biggest sources of stress all day yesterday and had almost sent her into a full panic attack multiple times, so she's glad she has a tentative plan in place to maintain her sanity.
She's sure her mum will understand.
"Thank you," Pansy murmurs. "Really."
Daphne scoffs. "Don't thank me for that. That's quite literally the least I could do. I just…I want you to take care of yourself. I'm sure it's tempting to want to make Granger happy and put your own shit aside, but you need to make sure that you're okay, first and foremost."
"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Pansy says with a small smile.
"Well, they didn't just put me here because I look good in green," Daphne says with a twinkle in her eyes as she snags another chip. "Although I do look amazing in green."
"That you do," Pansy says. She picks up the last bite of her sandwich and says, "and I will take care of myself. I promise. But I just…I want to do this. I'm excited to do this."
Daphne nods and sighs. "Then I certainly hope it goes the way you want it to. What time are you meeting her?"
Pansy swallows what's in her mouth as she checks her watch. "In about an hour. Which means I should probably start getting ready."
Daphne sighs. "And while you're having your lovely, romantic moment, I'll be watching that ridiculous arm-wrestling thing in the common room and regretting all the decisions that led me to that point," she says, standing up and picking up her bag. "Though I put ten Galleons on Millicent, so I suppose I should be there to support her."
"A wise investment," Pansy says, picking up her own things and standing. "I put down twenty."
They head to the main doors, debating the strategies of arm wrestling, and they've only taken a few steps outside of the Great Hall when Pansy spots Hermione, coming in from outside with Harry and Ron.
Pansy lets herself appreciate the flush of color on Hermione's cheeks, her slightly wild and windswept hair, and the brilliant sparkle that comes to her eyes when she laughs at something Harry says. She reaches out a hand to swat fondly at Harry's shoulder, and Pansy thinks about how wonderful that hand had felt running through her hair on Friday.
Before Pansy can let herself replay the soft memories of Friday night for the hundredth time, though, Hermione's gaze turns toward her. The moment she sees Pansy standing there, her eyes widen with surprise.
"Pansy," she says, a slow smile coming to her face. "You're here."
"I am," Pansy says.
She hasn't seen the other witch since Friday night, and truth be told, she wasn't expecting to see her until their meeting in an hour.
She's certainly not complaining, though. She'll take all the time with Hermione she can get.
Normally, Pansy wouldn't pay an ounce of attention to the two buffoons flanking Hermione, but it's hard not to notice the way Harry and Ron both turn to stare at Hermione in complete and utter shock. They're sporting identical, wide-eyed expressions and Ron's mouth opens and closes a few times in disbelief. It's almost comical, and Pansy has to bite down on her tongue to keep from smiling.
"Pansy?" Ron finally manages to splutter, sounding as if Hermione's just started speaking in Parseltongue. "Are you…I mean…what?"
"Eloquent as ever," Daphne mutters beside Pansy.
Ron misses the remark. He simply shakes his head wildly, as if he's trying to clear some kind of fog. "Since when do we call her Pansy?" he asks Harry, who gives a bewildered shrug in response.
Ron turns back to Hermione. "Are you feeling alright? I mean, did something happen?" His eyes flick suspiciously to Pansy for a moment, then back to Hermione. "Have you been Imperiused?" he murmurs, in what Pansy thinks is supposed to be a whisper.
Pansy sees a flicker of irritation pass over Hermione's face, but she masks it quickly. "Don't be ridiculous, Ron," she says, before turning her attention back to Pansy. "I've been meaning to find you. I'd like to discuss something. If you're available, that is."
"You would?" Ron asks, his voice oddly strangled.
"Do you have time?" Hermione asks, ignoring Ron.
Pansy nods. "My only plan today involved watching Millicent arm wrestle, so yes. I have all the time in the world."
"Your only plan, hm?" Daphne murmurs without moving her lips.
Pansy somehow resists the urge to stomp on her foot.
"Well, I suppose you should be thanking me for saving you, then." Hermione's tone is playful, her eyes are fond, and as she smiles, she gently snags her lower lip between her teeth.
"Mm. My Gryffindor knight in shining armor," Pansy teases right back, turning the phrase Hermione had used in the library on Thursday night back around and smiling when she sees the recognition light up Hermione's gaze.
"Merlin's tits," Daphne breathes in quiet exasperation beside her.
But Pansy doesn't pay the remark any mind. She's too busy delighting in the way Harry and Ron's eyes are darting back and forth from Pansy to Hermione, desperately trying to work out what the bloody hell is happening to their best friend. Ron's face is practically scarlet, Harry's hair is standing straight up from where he's run an anxious hand through it a few too many times, and they both look as if they don't recognize the girl they've known and loved for the past seven years.
"Well, since you're not saving me, I'm going to go watch the first match," Daphne says lightly. "I'll see you there later?" she asks, giving Pansy a look.
Pansy nods and her eyes widen with surprise when Daphne swiftly pulls her into a hug.
It's not that they don't hug. All things considered, they hug quite often. But they certainly don't hug every time they part ways. As Pansy lets her arms encircle the other girl, she wonders what the cause is for the sudden show of emotions. Perhaps Daphne still feels the need to reassure herself that Pansy is okay. Perhaps she's still worried about letting her out of her sight. Perhaps—
"Body language," Daphne whispers into Pansy's ear.
Pansy exhales sharply.
Perhaps she's just a twat.
Daphne releases her, gives her a small wink, then heads down the stairs to the dungeons.
Hermione turns to Harry and Ron. "Go on ahead. I'll be up soon."
They both stare at Hermione, clearly still in a state of shock.
"Are you…are you sure?" Harry finally asks, reaching up to nervously fiddle with his glasses. "I mean…it's just…it's Parkinson," he says, sounding a bit helpless.
Hermione rolls her eyes. "Honestly. We're not going to duel." She says it with exasperation, but the moment the words leave her mouth, she turns to Pansy with horrified eyes. "I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't think—"
Pansy waves her hand. "It's fine."
And it is. Her duel with her father is certainly something she'll need to think through later, but for right now, she just wants to focus on Hermione and whatever she wants to talk to her about.
Hermione winces apologetically, then turns back to Harry and Ron, who both look baffled over whatever just happened. "Really, it'll be fine," she says lightly. "I won't be long."
Harry takes a long, quiet moment to survey Hermione, and Pansy notes the concerned frown that settles on his face. Finally, he nods. "Okay. But just…be careful," he adds quietly, his eyes flickering skeptically toward Pansy for just a second, as if he expects her wand to be out and pointed at them.
"Okay?" Ron says, seeming to break out of whatever confused daze he's been in for the past minute. "Are you mad? It's not okay!" He gestures toward Pansy and says, "this is Parkinson! We're not just going to leave Hermione with—"
"Ron. Remember what we talked about?" Hermione asks in a firm voice. She raises an unamused eyebrow and crosses her arms.
It takes a moment, but eventually, Ron slowly deflates. "Respecting your decisions," he mumbles. He glances darkly at Pansy once more and mutters, "but I didn't think your decisions would be completely mental."
"Just because you don't understand them doesn't mean they're mental," Hermione says, but she doesn't bother to elaborate. Instead, she prods Harry and says, "Now go on, then. I'll meet you in the common room soon."
Harry nods and grabs Ron's arm. "C'mon, mate. We'll talk about it later," he adds in a quiet voice.
Ron stares at Pansy with scathing disdain, but he lets Harry lead him toward the stairs.
Just before they're completely out of earshot, Pansy says loudly, "right, then! Shall we duel to the death here, or would you rather go outside?"
She sees Ron's back stiffen, but Harry keeps resolutely dragging him toward the staircase. Pansy turns to Hermione with a grin to find her watching her with exasperated eyes. "Your maturity never ceases to amaze me."
"Oh, come on. It can't be new to you. You're already friends with a massive toddler," Pansy says, gesturing toward the staircase.
Hermione bites her lip to contain a smile, and Pansy's eyes sparkle at the sight. "So if we aren't dueling to the death, what did you want to talk to me about?"
"Oh. Right. About that…"
Hermione glances over her shoulder toward the staircase, then back at Pansy with nervous eyes. There's a new and deeply concerned furrow on her brow and her head is tilted in thought, as if she's trying to find the right words to say. Finally, she sighs and says, "I thought it was best you heard it from me. Before the school gossips spread anything. You know how they love to talk," she adds, her mouth setting in the angry, tired way that only someone who's used to being the center of attention can manage.
"What is it?" Pansy asks with concern as she surveys Hermione. She looks incredibly on edge and Pansy finds herself wanting to soothe her nerves in any way she can.
"I…I…" Hermione gives a small, nervous laugh and racks a hand through her hair. "I didn't think it'd be this hard to tell you this," she murmurs, almost to herself. Pansy waits patiently, and after a moment, Hermione exhales sharply and says, "I wanted to tell you that Ron and I are back together."
Pansy's stomach plummets to the floor.
She shakes her head slowly as she stares at Hermione, who's watching her with anxious eyes. "I'm sorry…you…you're what?" Pansy asks, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"I suppose," Hermione starts carefully, "that last night put some things into perspective. Ron and I talked when I got back to the dorm and…we've decided to give it another go. And I know he's not your favorite person. I know that," Hermione says, her words coming out in an anxious rush. "But I just thought that…you know, because you and I are…well, you know," Hermione says, gesturing between them with a blush, "maybe you could do me a favor and just…try to be nice to him?"
Pansy shakes her head again. She feels as if someone's hit her with a Stupefy directly after a lightning bolt strike. She's dimly aware that her mouth is hanging open, but she can't muster up the strength to close it.
This has to be some kind of colossal, fucked up joke. There's no way that Hermione and Ron are back together. The universe wouldn't be so cruel as to put Pansy through a near-death experience twice, only for the girl she's in love to use it as some mad justification to give it another go with Ron Weasley.
Maybe Pansy did die. Maybe this really is Muggle hell.
"I…I…" Pansy says. She's finally managing to make noise, but she can barely remember what question Hermione's asked her.
"I know it's a big ask. But I really do think you two would get along. Would you do that for me?" Hermione asks, her eyes wide and hopeful. "Would you try to get to know him for my sake?"
Pansy would do just about anything in the world for Hermione, but even she's not sure if she can manage the awful, unbearable task of being polite to Weasley. Especially not if it means having to watch them interact as a couple. She'd sooner snog a flobberworm than watch Ron drape his arm around Hermione's shoulders like it belongs there. Merlin, she'd sooner shag Hagrid than watch Hermione look at Ron fucking Weasley with soft, enamored eyes and a gentle smile.
Her stomach turns at the thought and a pained grimace comes to her face. She glances toward Hermione, who's still waiting for an answer.
"I…I…"
But before she can manage a full sentence, the corners of Hermione's mouth begin to twitch.
Pansy's eyes immediately narrow as she spies the motion. "Hermione," she says suspiciously. "What are you…"
Hermione bursts into laughter.
It's the same wonderful, magical, all-encompassing laugh that Pansy loves more than anything in the world. The one that seems to shake Hermione's entire body and leaves her face positively radiant. The one that makes Pansy feel like fireworks are exploding somewhere deep inside of her. The one that Pansy wants to bottle so she can hear it anytime she wants. Normally, Pansy would delight in that laugh. Normally, she'd fucking bask in it.
But right now, it only makes Pansy's glare darken.
"Oh, that was worth it. That was absolutely worth it," Hermione says as she pushes her hair back with a broad grin. "I don't think I've ever seen you look quite so ill," she adds with a snicker.
"So you're not back together with Weasley?" Pansy asks, some part of her desperately needing the verbal confirmation of what she already knows.
"God, no."
"Then what the bloody hell was that about?" Pansy asks, her voice coming out high and incredulous.
"That…was me having my revenge," Hermione says a bit smugly.
"Revenge? Revenge for what?" Pansy asks, completely bewildered.
"For making me think my parchment pal was Bulstrode."
Pansy stares at Hermione for a moment as the words sink in. Hazel eyes are still shining and if the slightly self-satisfied arch of her brow is any indication, Hermione is very, very proud of herself for pulling one over on Pansy.
"That was…" Pansy shakes her head, but despite herself, she very slowly starts to smile. "Merlin…you're absolutely mad," she says.
"Well, I couldn't let you think my revenge would be as simple as…what did you say? Drowning you in a tub of cats?"
"Remind me never to underestimate you," Pansy says. Her words are light though, because she knows that there's never any danger of that actually happening.
The day she underestimates the incredible, brilliant girl before her is the day she's lost all power of rational thought.
"I thought for sure you'd know I was lying."
Pansy shakes her head. "Not even a little bit. I actually think my heart stopped for a moment. I mean, you and Weasley…" she gives a theatrical shiver. "Honestly, that's the scariest thing I've had to think about in the past few days."
Hermione's eyes soften and she says, "well…it's certainly in the top ten, I'd imagine."
Pansy nods. But before she can let herself think about the actual traumatic memories of the past few days, Hermione gives a small sigh and says, "that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh? You didn't just want to give me a heart attack?" Pansy asks, grateful for the distraction.
"Well, mostly that. But no, I just…I wanted to see how you were," Hermione says. The amusement has faded from her face and now, she's looking at Pansy nervously. "I've been…I've been thinking about you," she says with a small flush. "And I looked for you yesterday in the Great Hall, but—"
Pansy shakes her head. "I only managed to come up for dinner. And I didn't stay very long."
"Right. Well, I just…I mean…how are you?" Hermione asks, shifting gently on her feet.
"Now that I know you haven't lost your mind? Splendid."
"Pansy…"
Pansy hears the gentle plea in Hermione's voice, and her shoulders slump a bit as she carefully probes at her actual emotions. "I'm…I'm okay," Pansy says slowly. "I think I'm trying to block most of it out, which probably isn't a good choice, but I can't really think about it. Every once in a while, I'll feel a memory coming on, and I just…I can't go there. Not yet, at least. So I'm just trying to distract myself."
Hermione nods, soft and understanding, and mercifully, she doesn't try to push Pansy into discussing anything more. Instead, she says, "right. Distractions are good. Though I have to say, arm wrestling wouldn't be my go-to." She lifts an amused brow and Pansy chuckles.
"Oh? Did you have a better distraction in mind? Because I could be persuaded into having other plans. If you're free, that is."
Hermione grins at the suggestion, but then something shifts in her eyes and she frowns. "I…I'm not," she says, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I'm sorry, I—"
Pansy waves a hand. "It's a beautiful Sunday. I assumed you had plans. I hope they're good ones? Or at the very least, better than watching arm wrestling?"
Hermione hesitates for a moment, then nods. "Yes, I…I'm meeting my parchment pal today," she says. But for some reason, she doesn't sound quite as enthusiastic as she had last time the topic had come up.
The kernel of hope shines bright from within Pansy's heart.
"You are?" Pansy says with fake-shock, her brow furrowing in confusion. She takes a moment to scrunch her face up in thought, but then, she looks up at Hermione with wide eyes. "That's right. You told me during Potions. I'm so sorry, it completely slipped my mind," she says earnestly, as any good friend would.
Hermione scoffs. "Don't apologize. You've had bigger things to think about than me and my parchment pal."
"Well…maybe," Pansy admits. "But even still. This is a big. I mean, after all this time, you're finally going to meet her? That's…" she shakes her head and says, "I'm happy for you."
"Thank you," Hermione says, but she still sounds strangely upset.
Pansy tilts her head. "Why, Miss Granger," she murmurs. "Do I detect cold feet?"
"No. No, it's not that. I can't wait to meet her, I just…" Hermione shakes her head and absently rubs her arm as she stares at the floor. "I didn't know that I'd…I mean, I never expected…" she quietly trails off and raises her gaze to meet Pansy's eyes.
She lets their eye contact linger for a long moment, and Pansy's heart rate picks up at the look in her eyes. There's something almost devastated in Hermione's eyes, and while Pansy would never claim to be an expert on body language like Daphne, she'd bet good money that the emotion flickering across the other girl's face right now is longing. She holds her breath as she waits for Hermione to finish her thought, but after a long moment, she whispers, "it's nothing," and drops her embarrassed gaze to the floor.
"Well," Pansy says, deciding not to pry. "I am happy for you. I really hope that whoever she is, she's worth the wait." She hesitates, then she quietly adds, "And I hope that whoever she is, she knows how lucky she is to be a part of your life."
"Pansy…" Hermione whispers.
"I hope," Pansy says, taking a step closer, "that she never takes for granted what she has in you." Another step forward. "Whatever you two end up being to each other, I hope she spends every day remembering that the most wonderful, astonishing, brilliant witch in the world loves her." She takes another step forward. "I hope that she'll make you happy," another step, "I hope she'll make you laugh," another step, "and I hope she'll always make you feel beautiful. Because you are. So, so beautiful," Pansy murmurs.
Pansy's close enough to Hermione now that she could take her hands if she wanted to. But she doesn't. Instead, she takes a deep breath, focuses on the way Hermione's heavy gaze is trained on her lips, and whispers, "but more than anything, I hope that she'll make you feel loved. Because you deserve that. More than anyone in the world, you deserve that."
"Pansy," Hermione whispers again, leaning her head toward Pansy, close enough that their foreheads are almost touching. A tiny, pained grimace furrows Hermione's brow and she whispers, "I…I…" She looks up toward the ceiling and blinks a few times as she shakes her head. "I wish that I…"
Hermione closes her eyes and after a long moment, she looks back at Pansy. "You asked me if I ever thought about what things could have been. If everything was different."
"I remember," Pansy says quietly, thinking back to their dance in the library.
"And I do," Hermione admits softly with the saddest smile Pansy's ever seen. "I do think about it. All the time."
"Hermione…" Pansy murmurs.
Hermione shakes her head and takes a step back. "I should go," she says quickly. "I mean, I need to get ready. I don't want to be late."
Pansy's a bit surprised by the rapid tone change, but she takes it in stride. "No. No, I suppose that's not a good first impression." She takes her own step back and says, "I should go, too. I need to…watch some arm wrestling, I suppose. But really…good luck. And I meant what I said—I do hope she's worth it."
Merlin, does she hope she's worth it.
Hermione manages a weak smile. "Thank you." She lets her gaze linger on Pansy's face, then she shakes her head a bit and says, "I should go."
"So you said," Pansy says with an amused smile.
"I did. I did say that." Hermione winces at her own blunder, then she takes another step back and says, "but we'll talk soon."
"Oh, very soon."
"Okay. Okay. So I'll just…I'll see you later."
"You will."
Hermione nods, gives Pansy a small wave, then turns and starts toward the staircase.
Once she's out of sight, Pansy exhales slowly, then turns to start toward the dungeons to prepare for one of the biggest moments of her life.
Perhaps she had been a bit much, and perhaps Hermione will give her an admonishing swat on the arm for laying it on so thick, but now more than ever, she knows she was right all along—Hermione definitely has feelings for two people.
And luckily for her, they both happen to be Pansy.
She shakes her head with a small smile as she thinks about the awful dilemma the other witch must be going through right now.
And even though does feel a bit guilty over her deception, as she jogs down the stairs, she can't help but think that a bit of deception is probably to be expected when falling in love with a massive Slytherin twat.
***
The world is bathed in gold as Pansy makes her way to the Black Lake. She breathes in deeply, filling her lungs with the soft air of early summer that's playing through the trees, and she delights in the birds trilling around her with sparkling, vibrant joy. It's almost as if the world knows that today is a special day and decided to put on a show, just for her.
She takes a second to stop and breathe, to gaze up at the sky above and let herself fully bask in the moment she's found herself in.
It's finally happening. It's finally here.
After months and months of buildup, Robin is going to meet her bard.
And Pansy is…
She's a little terrified, to be honest.
Because as much as she thinks Hermione will be glad to see her show up, there's still a little, gnawing doubt in the back of her mind, whispering, but what if she's not?
But anytime that doubt tries to amplify its treacherous voice, Pansy forces herself to remember every moment she's had with Hermione. Not as the bard, but as herself. As nothing more than Pansy Parkinson, a girl who is messy, damaged, insufferable, and stubborn. A girl who has inadvertently shown the very worst of herself to Hermione, but who has somehow found acceptance anyway. A girl who is not quite Hermione's perfect bard, but someone she still seems to like. Perhaps even more than like. And when Pansy thinks back over all of her interactions with Hermione, those sweet, fumbling, awkward moments they've created together, it helps to chase the doubt from her mind.
As she walks, she lets those moments burn bright, replaying each one and remembering the soft, tender look that seems to fill Hermione's gaze whenever she turns it toward Pansy. And through the persistent buzz of anxiety, she feels a strange, tenuous peace settle into her body. Because how can a girl who looks at her like she's something to be treasured—like she's everything—how could she not want to be with her?
Pansy takes another deep breath and tries to hold onto the peace.
She lifts a hand to adjust her hair for what's probably the tenth time. She had spent an inordinate amount of time in front of her mirror, checking and rechecking her face before she had finally departed the Slytherin common room. But everything had to be perfect—her eyeliner, her mascara, her dark lipstick. Daphne had even let her borrow her ludicrously expensive foundation, but she had pointed a threatening finger at her and said, "if you don't come back here with a girlfriend, you owe me thirty-five Galleons."
Pansy smiles at the memory, but the smile fades as the Black Lake finally comes into view. Quickly, she smooths down her thin jumper, then she squares her shoulders and begins the final bit of her walk toward the gnarled, ancient beech tree.
It doesn't take very long for her to arrive, and as she slowly approaches the tree, her breath catches in her throat.
Hermione's already there.
She's sitting beneath the tree and looking expectantly toward the path that leads directly up to it, clearly waiting for her bard to come into view. But of course, Pansy hadn't wanted to be that direct.
After all, why start being direct now?
Instead, she had taken the long way and approached the tree from behind. She had wanted one last, precious moment before everything was out in the open to marvel at all the things that had gone into making this possible. To think about every letter, every promise, every look, every gesture, every touch. To drink in Hermione's beauty in the glowing, magical light of the late afternoon.
And Merlin, is she beautiful.
Her profile seems to glow softly and the gentle rays from the sun bring out the golden tints in her hair. She's tamed it since Pansy had last seen her in the Great Hall, but she hasn't bothered to pin it back. It's still flowing long and free, spilling down her back in soft, tempting waves that have Pansy's hands itching to run through them.
She's also changed out of her casual clothes from earlier and into a dark grey, off-the-shoulder jumper and Muggle jeans that cling to her legs perfectly. And even though it's not something ridiculously formal or even remotely revealing, the simple, well-fitting outfit still makes Pansy swallow hard.
As Pansy continue to watch, Hermione anxiously tucks her hair behind her ears and captures her lower lip, biting gently on it. Pansy can just make out the tiniest hint of a crease between her brows and the rigid set to her shoulders as she gazes at the path, but even with the obvious nerves, she's still the most radiant person Pansy's ever seen.
She has a feeling she could spend the rest of the day just staring at her from afar, but when she notices the way Hermione's leg is bouncing restlessly, she decides it's time.
It's finally, finally time.
With a small inhalation, Pansy draws together every last scrap of courage in her body. Then, she takes a step forward, hurtling toward the unknown.
It only takes a few soft steps for Hermione to realize that someone is approaching her from behind. The moment she does, her leg stops bouncing and her back immediately stiffens. She doesn't turn around, but Pansy can see the deep breath she takes, and she smiles softly.
She's clearly not the only one who has to gather her courage.
She comes to a stop, and in the shade of the towering beech tree, Pansy waits anxiously for Hermione to turn around and forever alter the course of both their lives.
Several unbearably long seconds tick by and just when Pansy's starting to think that she might have to awkwardly clear her throat, Hermione slowly twists around to finally meet her bard.
Later, Pansy will think about how absurd it is that after months and months of writing to each other—of dedicating countless hours to learning each other inside and out and silently promising their hearts to each other—that everything should come to a head in less than a second.
But that's exactly what happens.
It takes less than a second for Hermione's eyes to find Pansy's.
Less than a second for everything to finally be out in the open.
Less than a second to change two lives forever.
And in the space of that half-second, everything around Pansy seems to melt away. The breeze dies down, the bird songs fade, and even the golden light seems to dim at the edges.
The only thing Pansy can see is Hermione.
The only thing Pansy can feel is the heat on her neck as Hermione's lips part in shock and her eyes grow impossibly wide; the disbelief and pure astonishment emanating from the familiar, beautiful gaze; the way Pansy's knees suddenly feel weak, her hands, clammy, and her mouth, dry.
The only thing Pansy can hear is the quiet gasp that seems to reverberate across the lake; the steady pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears; the slow, shaky exhalation as Hermione realizes just who it is standing before her.
They hold each other's gaze in absolute silence, Hermione, too stunned to say a word and Pansy, too nervous to think of the right thing to say.
But at the end of the day, Pansy is Hermione's bard.
And a bard always finds the right words.
A small, almost shy smile finds its way to Pansy's face.
She takes a deep breath.
And standing there in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun, in front of the woman who means everything to her, Pansy murmurs the only two words she could possibly say after all this time.
"Hello, Robin."
Notes:I hate cliffhangers too, so I'm so sorry.
But congratulations on reaching the end of a 60k word chapter lmao