Those Wrong, Yet it's Right, Things

Chapter 7

That which does not kill me, makes me stronger.

~Friedrich Nietzsche

The next two days passed in a bit of a blur. Unfortunately all of Pansy's thoughts had been centered on one being: Harry Potter. Him and his stupid acts of chivalry, his stupid attempts to strike up conversation. Luckily nothing had passed between them since that day in the hallway outside of potion ingredients and a bit of praise on her finishing off the scroll.

Pansy sat in the library again, making sure to get ahead on her homework while she could, not knowing if the next week would be as eventful as this one had been. In less than an hour Malfoy would be branded. Pansy had seriously considered binding herself to the library chair to ensure she wouldn't go. But with only forty minutes left, Pansy thought maybe her free will had prevailed.

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Harry was observant enough to notice the absence of many prominent Slytherins at dinner, and the remaining ones looked restless, as though they would rather be somewhere else, but were forced to stay. However, glancing down the length of the table to her new usual spot, he felt a surge of relief at seeing her, contently eating her dinner. Whatever was going on, Pansy wasn't involved.

Hermione and Ron had been bothering him all week on who the Slytherin turncoat was, but Harry had been determined that he would handle this. So far, though, she had only proved to be a handful.

Harry had been up the past two nights trying to find the reason of why he felt this sudden interest in her. It wasn't sympathy, that much he knew. And despite what she obviously believed, Harry didn't think she should have to surrender to Malfoy, to being a Death Eater's wife.

Ever since Sirius had died, Harry had been taking a second glance at everyone, looking for a Pettigrew or a Snape. Since Sirius had died Harry's mind had been on nothing but war, until she came along. And though he insisted she was still solely war-related, he had to admit he had a bit of an obsession with her that had nothing to do with the war; she intrigued him.

It's not as though she was pretty. Her face was scrunched in an almost unnatural way and her nose was too short for her long, graceful cheekbones. Her hair had this dark tint to it that almost always made it look dirty, but it was by far the most beautiful trait about her. She was curvy, not skinny, and quite tall, falling just below Malfoy and Harry's nose. But there was this stubborn pride about the way she held herself that hadn't been there before, or perhaps he'd just never noticed before. And all the things she'd been doing lately kept him wondering what she'd do next. And it wasn't just Harry that had noticed; everybody was beginning to notice Pansy Parkinson.

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Pansy wished she could've just fallen into a deep slumber that night, as exhausted as she was from the past week. She wished she could've shrugged worries off for the weekend and enjoyed herself; sat by the fire and read a book or looked through the latest edition of Witch Weekly. But those who had attended Malfoy's ceremony would be returning at any time, and she could only imagine the consequences.

However, nothing could've prepared her for being brutally yanked from her bed and thrown against the wall. The dorm room was abandoned, the other girls probably camping in the common room, formally warned of what would happen. Pansy held back a shout of pain as her head crashed into the stone wall and Malfoy's liquored breath filled her senses.

He didn't say anything, just pulled her off the wall and threw her against the bedpost. And Pansy did the last thing Malfoy expected. She laughed.

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Sometime later a figure found Pansy wandering the halls with bloody hands and stained hair. Despite what his head was saying, the figure picked up Miss Parkinson and carried her to the Hospital Wing.

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Pansy couldn't figure out for the life of her why Draco hadn't just killed her then and there. He hit her while she laughed, his anger only increasing with her shrill pitch, and he tossed her against walls and desks and anything that might give her permanent brain damage.

Eventually he just left the room, sure he'd made his point, carelessly letting the crisp image of the Dark Mark, burned into his arm, fall into her view, reminding her that he held the power.

She found the strength to wander the halls, not wanting to spend another minute in the Slytherin quarters. That's when--she assumed--Filch found her, bloodied and bruised and on the brink of unconsciousness.

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Pansy remembered waking once with an excruciating headache and trying to sit up, only to have strong arms force her back down. Something foul was forced down her throat and she was soon found herself in a deep slumber.

Hours later she woke abruptly when a red envelope on her bedside table started screaming, also waking the person who had been sleeping in the chair beside her.

"PANSY PERSEPHONE PARKINSON!! HOW DARE YOU DEFY YOUR MOTHER'S WISHES? HOW DARE YOU NOT SHOW UP TO YOUR FUTURE HUSBAND'S CEREMONY!! YOUR FATHER AND I HAVE BOTH GIVEN DRACO PERMISSION TO ENSURE YOU RECEIVE PROPER PUNISHMENT. I ONLY HOPE YOU ARE LYING THERE WISHING DEATH WOULD TAKE YOU. DON'T YOU EVER DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT AGAIN, YOU STUPID, STUPID GIRL."

And as all howlers do, it burst into flames, all evidence of attempted murder gone. Pansy had heard the words, but she would have laughed them off if she hadn't been so...so...whatever she was feeling to see Harry Potter straightening his cloak and shaking the sleep from it.

"Potter, what are you doing here?"

"I figured I'd be your only visitor, so I wouldn't have to worry about us being discovered." Harry smiled at the horrified look that crossed her face. He hated to give into the Slytherin in him, but, then again, maybe it was just the man in him.

"You're no better than Malfoy." She pulled herself up on the bed until she was sitting and facing him.

"I'm a lot better then him," Harry stated seriously. "I didn't beat you to a bloody pulp."

Her eyes widened momentarily. Everyone in the Slytherin tower would rather die then betray what Malfoy had done to her.

Harry sensed her disbelief. "They don't know he's the one that did this to you. Dumbledore's the only one that believes me, everyone else believes what the Slytherins are telling them."

"What's that?"

"That you went crazy and started throwing yourself around. That's why you're still in here. You're cured physically, except a few bruises."

"He did nothing to me."

"Why do lie for him?" Harry said outraged. Pansy was a bit taken aback by this side of the infamous teenage boy. "I'm not stupid, Parkinson. I know Malfoy knocked you around. Something big went on last night and you didn't show, so he punished you for it. I know enough about your world to know that."

"You know nothing of my world."

"Answer something truthfully for once in your damned life," Harry said trying to calm himself down. "Did Malfoy do this to you?"

"Nobody will believe you." Harry knew that mean 'yes.' "He's too powerful, Potter. Extremely so now that he's branded. He'll replace his father soon next to You-Know-Who."

"His name is Voldemort."

"What difference does it make?"

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

"Oh, quite the philosopher are we, Harry?" Pansy's eyes widened slightly and neither said a word, all else forgotten.

"What did you call me?" Harry said quietly, willing to risk the fragileness, knowing the atmosphere could lean either way.

Moments later he heard her say, with more uncertainty then he had ever heard in her, "Harry."

"That's what I thought." They lapsed into another silence. Pansy shifted and saw Harry's cloak lying on the edge of his chair and a dark spot caught her attention. She glanced at his hands, still a hint of red from the rawness of washing something off so hard.

"You found me, didn't you?"

"What difference does it make?" Harry stood, Pansy trying to figure out the emotion on his face before she realized that whatever was there he had carefully hidden, just as well as a Slytherin. He gathered his cloak in his hands and pulled back the curtains around her bed. Before he stepped out, however, he whispered something.

She watched him leave, joy and something else residing in her to see him go. This thing with Potter had gone too far, that was for sure. She needed to go unnoticed again, fall back into the shadows. Pansy sighed in frustration at the realization that she couldn't just disappear again. Fighting a losing battle, she fell into a restless sleep, anxious to be released from the Hospital Wing, four words and a name singing her to sleep.

You are not alone, Pansy.