Those Wrong, Yet it's Right, Things

Chapter 12

We all must become our own person, however frightful that may be.

~Albert Einstein

Never had Pansy been so afraid in her life. She could hear them all in there; their loud, boisterous voices floating down to where she stood frozen at the bottom of the steps. But for once, Pansy wasn't confused by her actions. She knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Tired of kneeling down to the fate her parents had planned for her and sick of being pushed around by Draco Malfoy, for once in her life Pansy was about to do something she wanted to do. And despite the collectiveness set in her step, she was scared.

Oh, damn Potter for being so correct! The boy is absolutely incorrigible!

Pansy tilted her chin enough to show that she had pride, but was careful to keep it at a friendly level, and finally started the long trek up the stairs. Sure it was only three steps, but it felt like a lifetime until she reached the top and stepping into the room, let amazed silence surround her.

It was dear Ronald Weasley who broke the ice. "What the bloody hell are you doing back here!?"

"Ronald Weasley!" his mother scolded.

"She is here by my invitation, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said from his chair, a smile gracing his lips. "Glad to see you could make it."

Pansy nodded but decided to add a helpful, "don't let it go to your head."

Dumbledore's smile widened and he stood to address the room. "I'd like to introduce Pansy Parkinson. I expect she'll be treated with immense respect," he said, shooting a knowing glance at Ron.

Ron mumbled something incoherent. Dumbledore seemed to understand though and nodded in his direction. "Now, if you'll all please find seats we'll get started."

Pansy shuffled over to a lonely chair near Professor Snape, giving him a nod of recognition on the way. Sitting stiffly in the chair, she was very curious as to how her first meeting would go. Perhaps it would've been easier to pay attention if a set of cool green eyes hadn't been studying her the whole time.

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"Pansy, wait," a voice called after her when she was halfway down the hallway, glad to be out of that room.

The meeting hadn't quite been what she'd expected. She'd had the privilege of sitting in a Death Eater's meeting once, full of hateful words and talk of torture. But this meeting...they actually were doing things to get themselves ahead in the war. There was sincerity in all their voices as they spoke; the conviction as the oath to give their lives for this war was repeated several times.

Falling back to reality, Pansy turned to an all too familiar voice. He stopped his jog about two feet from her and nodded towards a joining hallway where they could talk. She showed her acceptance by stepping into it and wandering a ways down before she finally turned back towards him.

"What were you doing in there?" he asked, clearly unable to think of anything better to say.

"Doing something for me." She saw him smile. "Don't let it get to your head, Potter. Everyone's right once in a while. I would hate to inflate your ego when I've been working so hard to deflate it."

They fell into a comfortable silence and both walked until they found themselves leaning against the windowsill at the end of the hallway, a safe distance apart.

Pansy began toying with her ring, a habit of hers as of late, before she pulled it roughly from her finger and left it in the middle of her open palm. "Guess I won't be needing this anymore."

Looking at the ring, Harry reached out and closed her hand around it, letting his fingers linger. "Pawn it. Get the money out of it at least." He pulled his hand away. "It's brave what you did."

She scoffed. "Don't you dare go turning me into some Gryffindor."

"I won't."

Silence fell again and Pansy's forehead wrinkled a bit as she listened to a ferocious debate going on inside her head. A blonde chunk of hair was pushed roughly behind an ear. I can't believe I'm going to do this.

"Harry...."

Surprised she had used his first name at such a fragile moment with such a sincere tone, Harry turned and studied her intently, waiting for her to finish.

"What did you mean when you said you couldn't?"

The decisive boy hesitated. She could tell he was struggling with himself on whether to tell her the truth or not--she was a Slytherin. Eventually he settled on staring hard at her for a few moments. Pansy raised a questioning eyebrow and didn't break eye contact, knowing well by now how to get her way.

"I tried for a bloody month to forget you," he replied at last, turning to stare out the window at the Whomping Willow. "But there was something about you that wouldn't let me."

Pansy rested her elbows on the windowsill and avoided his eyes as she said; "I never thanked you for all the times you saved me from Draco."

He turned his eyes back to her and said with conviction, "you don't have to worry about Malfoy anymore. Just steer clear of him and I swear if he lays a hand on you...."

When Potter dragged off, Pansy smirked and responded in a doubtful, teasing tone, "you'll what? Kill him?"

Her words had been meant to be sarcastic and over exaggerating, but when Harry turned to look at her, the truth came crashing into her: he just might. Pansy closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Despite the completely new direction her life had taken today, she felt better then she had in a long time. The Light Side fought for something that Voldemort and his like could never possibly understand: the freedom to just be who they are. Pansy had heard the dedication in the small group of people in Dumbledore's office; she had seen the look in their eyes. Voldemort sought power, but they sought so much more. Pansy knew she was on the winning side, yet as war drew nearer, she couldn't help but think that the price of winning was the price of lives. Never before had she understood how painful it would be to see someone you care about put under the ground.

With this thought, Pansy turned to Harry.

"If you could bring them back, would you? Your parents, I mean? Maybe your godfather?" The question was awfully personal, but Pansy couldn't help but pry. She had asked it casually, as though she didn't care whether or not he answered her, but felt a tug of satisfaction when he did give her a response.

"I thought for a long time I would do anything to have them back. But if they had lived--my parents, Sirius--I might not be standing here with you right now. And to tell you the truth, I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be."

The words took her off guard, but she turned, an incredulous look on her face. "You're actually saying you enjoy putting up with me?" she asked sarcastically.

"I'm not putting up with you, Pansy. I'm enjoying the privilege of being in your presence."

Pansy smirked and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You've been around Malfoy's smooth talking too long."

Harry gave a one-sided grin. "Malfoy never meant it."

Though she tried to hold it back, a laugh escaped in her words. "Oh, and you do?"

"Yeah." Pansy was sure Harry was joking. Who would actually enjoy being around her? She was a stuck-up, prideful, discriminatory, little girl--not that she minded. But as she studied the caring glow in his pupils, the sincere rumble in his words, her mind tightened with the knowledge that Harry had just paid her an honest compliment.

"Thank you for not giving up on me, Po-Harry." Surprised, Pansy hadn't even thought the words before they'd jumped from her mouth. She was really starting to loathe this feeling of not having control over her emotions. Afraid at how he might react, she looked over at him, but he just nodded.

"You wanna head down to lunch?" he asked standing up straighter and facing her.

She hesitated, weighing her options. It would look a bit suspicious if she waltzed into the Great Hall flanked by Harry Potter.

"Not just yet. I think I'll stay here and watch the rain a while longer."

Glancing out the window once again, Harry noted it was a dreary day; the clouds were silver, but not gray and heavy with rain. There was still a pale streak of sun visible on the grounds, breaking through from somewhere above, and the atmosphere was all but ready to have a downpour.

Harry looked over at her and raised his heavy eyebrows. "But...it's not raining."

"It will be." She turned to look at him, a look of gratitude in her eyes. Holding his gaze for a few moments to ensure him that her thank you was real, though she would never voice it again, she turned back to the window. Harry left her and started down towards the hall.

Seven minutes later Harry took a long stride through the archway to the Great Hall and gave a small wave to a fuming Hermione and smug Ron. As he went to take his usual place next to Ron, he heard a distant pounding sound. Harry wearily glanced up to the enchanted ceiling above him and his eyes widened when he saw thick raindrops falling from a laden, sorrowful sky.